Page 69 of If My Wishes Came True
I pick her up from the airport on Friday afternoon, and I almost don’t recognize her. My tightly wound little sister, who typically sports a sleek, high ponytail, along with a sensible outfit from her carefully-curated capsule wardrobe, looks happier and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. She has on a breezy floral sundress that shows off those new curves she acquired when she stopped marathon-training, and she’s wearing her beautiful auburn hair down, in loose waves.
“Christy, you look amazing!” I squeal when I see her. “Where did this gorgeous wavy hair come from?”
She laughs. “Apparently this is what happens when I stop flat-ironing.”
“Lucky you,” I say, threading my fingers through my stick-straight mane. “And the dress?”
“Post-breakup shopping spree,” she explains. “My entire closet was black and beige. I was so sick of it.”
“I like this side of you,” I say before I pull away from the curb.
We head back downtown, where I park in my building’s garage, then we walk to a nearby restaurant for happy hour. Christy orders a dirty martini—a far cry from her usual glass of pinot noir—and we have the best time catching up, just the two of us. Although we do get a lot of male attention. Typically I’d be annoyed, but not tonight…because my sister has been approached by three hot guys so far, and she’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Isn’t it great, Jenna? All I had to do was change my hair and wardrobe, and boom—men are finally noticing me,” she says before taking a sip of her martini.
I shake my head. “You’ve always been beautiful, Christy. You didn’t have to change a thing about the way you look. You’re just happier and lighter now. That’s what these guys are picking up on.”
She heaves a sigh. “I probably should have broken up with Kyle a long time ago. I’d been unhappy with our relationship for years.”
“But look at you now,” I say, reaching across the table for her hand. “You’re glowing. I have no doubt that you’re going to find an amazing guy who’s spontaneous, and fun…and will want to have sex with youanyday of the week.”
She giggles. “I hope you’re right. My chances seem decent based on tonight, at least. Maybe Ishouldmove to Chicago.”
My eyes go wide. “Would you really?”
She tilts her head, smiling. “Let’s see how the rest of the weekend goes.”
I can barely contain my excitement, but I try to play it cool. “Deal,” I say, clinking my glass to hers.
After taking Christy to my favorite neighborhood Italian place for dinner, we start heading back to my apartment. As we’re walking, I pull my phone out of my purse, and see a couple of sweet text messages from Charlie—and a voicemail from Tati Marie.
I’d left her a message earlier, letting her know I wouldn’t make it to class, because my sister’s in town. But why would she call me back? Curious, I listen.
“Jenna, dear…it’s Marie. I’m calling with good news. My friend who owns an art gallery reached out to me today. She’s hosting a show for local artists, and wanted to see if I had any talented students who would be willing to contribute a painting. I told her I’d speak with you.”
“Oh my gosh,” I say, my heart pounding and my head spinning.Is this really happening?
“Take the week to think about it, and let me know what you decide,” she goes on. “I know it’s sooner than you planned, but I think you’re ready.”
“What’s going on?” my sister asks when I hang up.
I let out a breathy laugh. “Christy…I think I just got the little nudge from the universe I was hoping for.”
As I walk Christy into my art studio, I have major butterflies—a mix of excitement and nerves. Well, mostly nerves. But if I’m going to take the leap and make a career out of painting, I’m going to have to show my collection at some point, and I’m grateful that the first person to see it will be my sister. As a literary agent, she has a gift for spotting talent, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it carried over to different art forms. When it comes to food, wine, and fashion, Christy’s always had discerning taste. But, even more than that, I’m over the moon that we’re getting closer, and showing her my paintings will only strengthen our growing bond.
Unless she hates them, of course.
Thankfully, the smile on her face says otherwise. “Jenna…oh my gosh!” she exclaims, wide-eyed.
The seven paintings that make up my collection are leaning against the wall, and I watch her gaze travel slowly across each of them. When she gets to the last portrait—the one ofher—her hands fly to her mouth, and her eyes fill with tears. I follow as she takes several steps forward and kneels to examine it more closely. My heart picks up speed, wondering what she’s thinking. With her fingers still covering her lips, I can’t tell.
Does she like it? Is she moved by it? It is possible she’s offended?
Oh god. Maybe she thinks I have zero talent, but doesn’t know how to tell me.
What was I thinking? I’ll never make it as a professional painter. Thank goodness I haven’t quit my design job yet?—
“Jenna.” My sister stands and faces me. Finally, she drops her hands to her sides, and I’m no longer second-guessing what I want to do with the rest of my life, because she’s beaming. “These are amazing.You’reamazing.”
