Page 51 of The Wedding Twist

“Wait, this is the wrong—”

“Nope! It’s right,” Ava yelled gleefully in her ear over the music. “No love songs, right? Let’s alternateyeahs. Then you’ve got the first verse. Take it to the chorus.”

It was a good thing Celeste, Ava, and Elodie had spent much of their teen years choreographing dances, with Quinn and her stuffies as their audience, because Celeste barely had to look at the screen for lyrics.

The drinks had done their job, because Celeste was no longer feeling any iota of stage fright. In fact, with her new outfit and the confidence that came with having Ava beside her, she suddenly felt like a pop star, ready to tell the rest of the pub toride it, my pony. Ginuwine would be proud!

They sang. They danced, back to back and perhaps a little more raunchily than the Best Case Brewery karaoke crowd was used to. They laughed. The crowd cheered, although the room might have been echoey, but Celeste decided that she and Ava were just that talented. So much so that a few patrons had their cameras up, recording them. She was too drunk to care!

They stepped off the stage, bent over laughing. “Let’s do another!” Celeste proclaimed, stumbling and catching herself on a couple’s table and sloshing their drinks. “Sorry!” she proclaimed. Ava signaled to the bar for another round. “Let’s do Robyn!” Celeste said. ShelovedRobyn. And the pub wouldlovethem singing it!Tralala!

“One more, then home,” Ava said, and Celeste loved her sister even more than she ever had before.

*

The next morning,when Celeste woke up in a fully incapacitating nausea, a brick taking up space in her skull, and the foul remnants of ethanol in her mouth, she loved her sister much less.

By some kind of miracle, they only had three rooms booked at the lodge, so there was minimal work to do before she dragged herself to the salon, where the scent of hair dye and the warmth of the hair dryer were almost too much to bear, and even when she stepped out with a fresh cut, dye, and blowout, when she looked at the rearview mirror of her car, she still looked rough.

The only thing she could think about was Miss Vickie’s jalapeño chips, which usually did the trick, so on her way back to the lodge, she pulled into the parking lot near the IGA in Banff.

Under the bright fluorescent lights of the grocery store, she grabbed the chips and a bottle of Perrier and brought them to the checkout. The cashier blinked at her. “Great job last night,” she said, then grinned.

“Oh no. You were at Best Case?” Celeste said. She tapped her debit card on the machine, and then the girl passed her the receipt. From what she could remember, there had been around thirty to forty people there, and hopefully most of them were out-of-towners who she’d never see again.

The young woman cocked her head to the side and peered at her through her red-rimmed glasses. “No, I saw it on Keystone Konnection. I’m only eighteen.”

Celeste almost dropped the bottle. “You what?”

“I’m only eighteen. Everyone tells me I look older.”

“No, I’m asking about the video. What do you mean you saw something on Keystone Konnection?”

“There’s a video of you. And another girl, singing. Dancing. Looks like it was a great time.”

After mumbling something about peer pressure and alcohol, Celeste raced back to her car, threw the water and chips onto the passenger seat, and opened the Instagram app on her phone. Trying her best to steady the now-raging nausea, she navigated to the account that reposted anything that was taggedKeystone Ridge. Her stomach lurched when she saw a shaky video of her on stage, doing her very best Ginuwine impression, her provocative grinding nowhere near as impressive as it had been in her mind the night before.

Everyone would see it. Her friends. Her parents.

Jack.

Ugh. She slunk down in her seat and squeezed her eyes shut, the wave of embarrassment and regret colliding with her hangover in a perfect storm.

She took a deep, steadying breath, then replayed the video. How many people did she know that followed this account? Certainly everyone in Keystone Ridge. And probably the surrounding area.

Including Annie Flint.

*

When she returnedto the lodge, the couch was calling for a nap. But she had two things to do first.

Stephan answered on the first ring. “Hello, Stephan speaking.”

She swallowed. “Hello, Stephan, this is Celeste McCarthy calling.”

“Nice to hear from you, Celeste.”

She took a deep breath. This was it. She wanted to feel a sense of confidence. Excitement, even. But all she could muster up was enough resolve to say what she’d called to say. “I’d like to come and visit the island,” she said. “I’m strongly considering the position.”

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