Page 54 of Heart Strings
“Sláinte,” we say in unison before downing the whisky.
Saoirse grimaces. Deirdre smacks her lips.
“Thank you,” Callum says earnestly. “Making friends has never been easy for me. It means a lot that you’re here. I love you all.”
“Now who’s being dramatic?” I clap him on the back and pull them both into a hug.
“Have we got a few minutes to spare?” I ask Saoirse.
“We don’t want to leave the bride waiting. Why?”
“I’ve an idea of how to show Lo that I’ve been listening.”
Chapter 20
Lo
Bong.
Aunt Sharon whacks the mallet against the crystal singing bowl again. With every strike, the makeup artist flinches. I hiss in pain as the eyeliner pencil jabs into my eyeball for the second time.
“Sorry!”
“It’s all right,” I assure her.
I cut a sidelong glare at Aunt Sharon, obliviously parading the thing around the room as the bridal party gets ready. This new age singing bowl ritual wouldn’t be so bad if she kept circling the rim of the quartz vessel with her mallet, but she insists on “banishing the negative vibes” every few minutes with a few random whacks. And it’s been going on for twenty minutes. Not to mention her headache-inducing cloud of patchouli. No wonder Rory and Anvi fled in search of champagne, and my mom slipped out to grill the caterer about their organic ingredients.
I’mthisclose to snatching that mallet away from Sharon and beating her with it.
The wide curlers in Lark’s bangs bounce a little as we makeeye contact. My cousin’s never been great at confrontation, and this is an emotional time for her and her mother, so no one wants to start an argument.
“Hey, Aunt Sharon,” I say casually as the makeup artist swipes some eyeshadow across my lids. “Have you cleared out the garden’s energy yet?”
She gasps and halts the mallet. The sound continues to reverberate. “I’ll be right back.”
Aunt Sharon dashes through the bridal suite, crystal singing bowl in hand. Lark smiles at me in gratitude.
The hairstylist starts to unfurl the Velcro rollers. Her hair will be down in loose curls, while mine is half-up, dusting my shoulders but pinned away from my face by a rose-covered comb.
“She means well,” Lark says with a shrug. “Even if she is a bit…misguided.”
“I know.” There’s a lot to unpack here, but I leave it at that. This is Lark’s day. “Check-in time: How are you feeling?”
She’s absolutely glowing. Taking my hand, she says, “I never thought I’d find love again after losing Reese. But I’m ready, you know? I’m crazy about Cal.”
Emotions swell in my chest.
“Callum’s a good one,” I tell her, squeezing her palm. “You deserve this.”
Lark gingerly dabs at a tear. “I sure hope this is waterproof.”
The makeup artist snaps her case shut and rises to leave. “Don’t you worry, that face is bulletproof.”
With a final blast of industrial-strength hair spray for each of us, the stylist offers Lark congratulations before also leaving. Now that it’s just the two of us, we decide to tackle getting Lark into the dress.
“How are you holding up with Aidan around?” She steps into a petticoat. “And your parents?”
“Surprisingly, Aidan’s not the problem.”
