Sometimes it’s hard to accept she’s the little sister. Not that she’s younger by a lot. Hell, we’re born in the same year, she arriving the day before New Years Eve. Irish twins. Most days she’s the wacky, wild sister who dances on bars and runs into oncoming traffic to get across the street. She never returns things she borrows and loves to sing karaoke, even when the establishment doesn’t have karaoke. It can get quite embarrassing.
Back in Cedar Ridge, Leah owns a bar called McConaughey’s. Yes, it’s named after the famed actor and has Matthew McConaughey paraphernalia all around. There’s no good explanation for why the bar exists, other than the fact she is a die-hard fan and the cliental love to get drunk and chant, “Alright, alright, alright.”
Leah is usually the crazy one getting the crowd riled up.
Yet there are times like this—like this entire year—when she shows more maturity and composure than you would expect from the wild child with the platinum blonde bob and sheared jeans. This year had to be hard on her as well, yet she gave up so much for me, for our family.
Pulling back from her, I let out a large sigh and am relieved to see a waiter approach us with a platter of prosciutto and a bottle of Prosecco, compliments of the hotel. We clink glasses and salute the start of our sisters sabbatical.
“Do you know how much sex can be had in a tub like this?”
Leah is sitting, fully clothed in the empty bathtub in our hotel suite. The large porcelain tub is yet another reminder of the honeymoon this was supposed to be.
“Too bad it will be sexless for the next week.” I say, putting my clothes away in the large wardrobe that sits opposite the massive king-size bed.
“Just because I won’t be getting foamed up in here doesn’t mean you can’t.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“No.” I shoot her an evil glare.
“What happens in Italy, stays in Italy.” Leah sings, resting her head on the back of the tub and kicking up her feet.
I let out a laugh knowing that is not true. My sister has the biggest mouth in Cedar Ridge. The fact she is marrying a state trooper means Leah not only knows everyone’s business from the bar, but she also gets the lowdown on every speeding ticket and arrest in town. If I hook up with a random Italian on vacation, everyone within a ten-mile radius will know, and I don’t need my dad hearing about my rendezvous. My poor dad. He still has a hard time believing I’m twenty-five-years-old.
“I didn’t travel five thousand miles for a random hookup.” Placing my sundresses delicately on each hanger, I look over at Leah’s suitcase, open on the sofa, in the seating area by the door. I’m sure that’s exactly where it will stay.
“I didn’t give up my honeymoon so you could wallow the entire trip.” Her head peeks up from the tub’s headrest, one eyebrow slanted up, her mouth in a lopsided smirk.
She’s a conniving one. In one breath she tells me not to worry about hijacking her honeymoon and in the next she’s guilting me over it. Nice to see she hasn’t lost her sense of humor.
I shake my head and grin. Leah catches my laugh and points it out. “You’re getting some action this week, lady. It’s your debt to me. If you don’t pick him, I will.”
I turn around from my place at the closet, placing my hands on my hips. “Why are you so hell-bent on getting me laid?”
“Because it pisses me off the last guy in your pants was that jerk Parker. He’s an asshole, he fucked with your head, and it’s been six months since you’ve been with anyone else.”
I can’t argue with her there. Six months ago I thought I was in love with Parker Ryles. We met at Carnegie Mellon, where he was studying the flute, and I was on the violin. He was smart and sweet and made that instrument look super sexy.
After four years of dating, I was practically picking out bridesmaid dresses. That is, until he dumped me because he wasn’t ready to settle down. That would have been fine and dandy if we hadn’t started having “the talk.” You know, the one where you discuss how many children you want and where you’ll live. We were on the same page, or at least I thought we were. Now I know there is no way I could have married someone so selfish. My life has been destroyed and I blame him every day for what happened.
At least it’s easier to blame him than myself.