“You said what?” It was the third time in two minutes Kristin had asked that same question with that same horrified lilt on the last word, and April was more than sick of it.
“I told him he was just so hilarious. That he wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him on the butt.” Maybe she hadn’t exactly worded it that way, but that’s what she meant. If he was a smart guy, he would figure it out.
Her sister ran the pad of her index finger across her eyebrow to wipe away a phantom drop of nonexistent sweat—there’s no reason to sweat when you’re not doing anything but giving orders to your personal slave of a sister—and glared at April. “Why would you say something like that? I need him to be in top form for the wedding, not worried that you’re going to have some meltdown in front of everyone while he’s up there trying to sing. For once in your life, think of someone besides yourself, April.”
A harsh laugh escaped before she could stop it. “Oh that’s rich coming from you. Think of someone besides myself? Kind of like you were doing when you asked him to sing in the wedding in the first place? Who were you thinking of then, Kristin? Who were you thinking of then?” April hated the way her voice had risen to such a high pitch, but there was no stopping it. Hysterical and whiny were sometimes her thing.
Like self-righteousness and arrogance were sometimes Kristin’s thing. “I was thinking of you. It’s way past time to put this whole grudge thing you’re holding against Jack behind you. It isn’t healthy. It isn’t smart. And unforgiveness isn’t good for the soul. Plus it causes wrinkles.”
“It does not cause wrinkles, and I’m twenty-two. Hardly at a place in life where I need to worry about them.”
“Sure, you say that now. But someday you’ll thank me when you’re in your forties and still look like you’re twenty-eight.”
April rubbed the space between her eyebrows, trying and failing to figure out how a conversation about Jack Vaughn’s jerkiness had headed south on a path that practically waved a pink banner endorsing Botox injections.
“Can we get back to the subject at hand, please?” she asked her sister.
“Sure. You need to forgive Jack.”
“This has nothing to do with forgiveness. This has to do with ethics and morals and taking things that don’t belong to you.”
Kristin sucked in a breath. “April, it was a song. You don’t even know if he took it on purpose, and besides, it’s not like he robbed a bank or something.”
And this was the response her family often gave, much like the jingles statement her sister had made yesterday. It was only a song. A song that just happened to be the song that skyrocketed Jack’s singing career. And sure, maybe she was jealous. Maybe she was angry. Maybe she was even a tad bit vengeful. But deep down, all she really wanted was an apology. Nothing elaborate; nothing grandiose. But it’s hard to move on and really make peace when an offense has never been addressed in the first place.
But it was pointless to talk about it with her sister. She didn’t understand. In fact, no one really did.
“You’re right, at least he didn’t rob a bank.” Sometimes it was easier to smooth the waters than to walk through a rising current of lectures. Today, April decided to aim for calm.
Kristin lowered her mascara wand and smiled at her through the bathroom mirror. “I’m glad you’re finally coming around.” She’d been practicing her wedding makeup for well over an hour—applying and removing and switching up color pallets only to apply and remove all over again. They were currently on round four, and in April’s opinion every single application looked the same. “And I’d like to hear your thoughts on that eventually, but first tell me what you think of this look.”
“I think it’s perfect,” April said on a sigh, swallowing any hopes for an understanding conversation.
“You’ve said the same thing about all of them,” Kristin pointed out. “I need your opinion, April. I’m not just doing this for the fun of it. I have less than seventy-two hours to find the right colors. How am I supposed to do that without your help?”
“Maybe Mom can help you when she comes tomorrow.”
Kristen just looked at her. “Dear Lord, is that tomorrow?”
“Yep.” April picked up a tube of lipstick and pulled off the cap. Gold. Gold looked good on her. “I’m sure she’ll be ready to give you all sorts of opinions, especially when she sees the church.”
Both girls grimaced. “She’s going to hate it. Every bit of it. She wants a high-society wedding on my very tiny budget. Even what they’ve chipped in isn’t going to give Mom the showpiece she’s dreamed of.”