Page 62 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
So I’m the lucky one who gets to explain to Dad and Susan why we only need a table for three at breakfast instead of four. Awesome. I hope and pray they’re serving mimosas. It’s the only thing keeping me going at this point.
When I get to the restaurant, my father and stepmom are already seated, because being early for everything is apparently their new hobby. They could have taken up golf or joined a book club, but no. This is what they went with instead.
It’s not that I don’t love spending time with them. I do. I love it a lot. I just prefer hanging out with my family when I’m not cheating in a national beauty pageant by pretending to be my sister.
“Hi.” I sit down and flash them a full-wattage, Ginnyesque smile. Our table is at the edge of the resort’s cabana, shaded by a large patio umbrella and swaying palm trees. “It’s so gorgeous out here. Gin... Charlotte and I have been eating mostly room service. We haven’t had much of a chance to see the rest of this place.”
“Good morning, honey.” Dad smiles, then looks past me as if my twin is going to materialize out of thin air. “Where’s your sister?”
“She’s not up to coming down for breakfast. I think she still feels a little self-conscious about her allergy situation.” I wave a hand at my face by way of explanation.
My father’s brow furrows. “That doesn’t sound like Charlotte.”
“What do you mean?” I know I shouldn’t ask, and the prickle at the back of my neck tells me I probably won’t like the answer, but he and Susan are looking at me, waiting for me to say something.
He shrugs. “You know. Charlotte doesn’t normally care much about her appearance.”
Oh. We’re going there.
I suppress the urge to ask him to elaborate. My dad thinks I don’t care how I look? That’s hurtful.
Icare. I just care a normal amount instead of a beauty pageant amount. Granted, I usually don’t wear makeup. And as Ginny so lovingly pointed out, my go-to hairstyle is a ponytail. But Idobrush it before I put it up. I’m not atotalmess, am I?
Susan chimes in, agreeing with him. “Exactly. Looks aren’t really high on her priority list.”
Et tu, Susan?
“She probably just wants to hole up in the room with her head in a book,” Susan adds.
Super. So the whole family thinks I ordinarily look like a train wreck and that I’m a loner. I’m really not. Deep down, I know all my efforts to downplay my appearance and rail against the pageant scene have more to do with missing my mom than anything else. The makeup, tiaras, and fancy clothes remind me of her, and sometimes it’s just easier to not have to see it all so I can forget a little bit.
A server swishes past our table and I silently beg for that mimosa I’ve been dreaming about. A pitcher of them would be nice.
“Well, thisisCharlotte’s vacation,” I say in defense of myself.
If you ever want to hear what your family truly thinks of you—and trust me, you don’t—have breakfast with them disguised as your sibling. It’s an eye-opener.
I pick up my menu, and my stomach growls. Once again, I’m starving. Everything listed on the smooth ivory pages sounds delicious. I’m trying to decide between Belgian waffles or an omelet stuffed with everything when my dad clears his throat.
He leans closer and lowers his voice. “Speaking of Charlotte, do you know if she’s seeing anyone?”
Oh goody. We’re not finished talking about me yet. And it definitely seems as if the conversation is about to get even more uncomfortable.
The server comes to take our order, and I think I’m saved from having to answer Dad’s question, but he still has an expectant glint in his eyes after she leaves.
I’m not off the hook.
And tragically, there’s still no mimosa sitting in front of me.
“I don’t think Charlotte’s ready to date quite yet.” I force myself to meet his gaze and do my best to pretend we’re talking about someone else—some pathetic, wounded girl who isn’t me.
“I still don’t understand what went wrong between her and Adam. She seemed so happy.” Susan sighs. “Do you have any idea? She never explained it to us.”
Of course I didn’t. I was too raw. Too humiliated. “I don’t know the specifics. But she made it clear he wasn’t the right man for her.”
My father snorted. “It would’ve been nice if she’d figured that out a little sooner.”
I reach for my water glass. It trembles slightly in my hand, and I take a sip.
