Bad Cruz

“The makeup artist is not coming.” Gabriella winced. “She got into a car accident.”

“Is she okay?” I asked.

“Oh, who cares?! It’s so like Nessy to always ask the wrong question,” Trinity huffed.

“Yeah, she’s fine, but the doctors think she might have a concussion, so she will be staying at the hospital through the night,” Gabriella replied mildly.

I nodded and went downstairs to get everyone refreshments. Bear was already at the church with my father and Rob.

Cruz was probably there, too.

I wasn’t ready to see him.

I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to see him.

I didn’t know what to make of Rob and Cruz’s blossoming new friendship. It seemed like I had once again been pushed to the sidelines of a social circle that I was supposed to be a part of.

I got back upstairs with a tray full of sparkling water, apple juice, and cookies, and set it on the edge of the vanity, as far as possible from Trinity, whose hair was almost done. It was coiffed elegantly and dramatically.

“My goodness, what are you doing, Nessy? The juice is literally four feet away from me. That’s an accident waiting to happen,” Trinity bit out.

“Nessy, why didn’t you bring the triangle sandwiches I made?” Mom complained, smoothing over the wedding dress hanging on Trinity’s closet door. “I don’t understand, they were right there on the counter.”

“And I still don’t have anyone to do my makeup!” Trinity flung her arms in the air.

“I can do your makeup,” I said quietly.

I might’ve chosen to look like a drag queen up until a few weeks ago, but I knew my way around a makeup bag. I had a steady hand and was very good at dramatic eyeliner and contouring.

Plus, my eyeshadow game was a killer.

Trinity gave me a scandalous look. “Hard pass.”

“Don’t upset your sister, Nessy. She is stressed as it is. Just go bring the triangle sandwiches.” Mom waved me off.

“I think you should let Nessy do your makeup, Trinity,” Gabriella said gently, putting her hand on her best friend’s shoulder. “She’s our best shot. We won’t be able to find anyone semi-professional at such a short notice.”

“She’s only going to ruin it,” Trinity moaned. “That’s her go-to. You know that as well as I do, Gabriella.”

I wanted to get up and leave. Not only the room, but the town. The state. The country.

The dislike I felt for and from the women in my life was so intense, so out of control, I could hardly breathe.

“You have to be practical,” Mom cooed at Trinity. “Maybe Gabriella’s right. There’s no other choice.”

“I’m still mad at her,” Trinity pouted.

I smiled cordially, suddenly completely and utterly exhausted from her casual bullying, “Guess what? I’m mad at you, too. So why don’t you shove your spoiled tantrum up your ASS and find someone else to try to make your UGLY beautiful, because lemme tell you, baby sister, this one’s going to be a challenge.”

Everyone in the room stared at me with shock.

Yup. I went there.

I cursed.

Trinity was the first to recover. Her mouth turned into an O-shaped, silent scream.

“See? She just called me ugly on my wedding day.”