Page 5 of Heat Island
“So, will you do it? Please, Trin? It would mean everything to me.”
I look at my baby sister—trusting, optimistic, naïve Josie—and decide.
“Of course I will.” I force a smile that I hope is believable. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
TWO
TRINITY
My liquor cabinetis calling my name.
It has also left several voicemails and might be cyberstalking me.
After cancelling the rest of my day and going home early, I managed to get halfway through a bottle of cabernet before my brain could catch up with me.
I slouch deeper into my cream-colored sofa, surrounded by the wreckage of my afternoon panic spiral. Bridal magazines fan out across my coffee table like crime scene photos. Fabric swatches in blush and champagne tones spill from their folders. Look books for exotic destination weddings mock me from every surface of my immaculate living room.
“Immaculate until today,” I mutter, surveying the chaos I’ve created in my Carrie Bradshaw-inspired brownstone on the Upper East Side. Sex and the City reruns were my lifeblood as a kid, and I always dreamed of being one of the sexy, independent women I saw on television.
The irony that Ms. Bradshaw’s famous brownstone was actually in the West Village is not lost on me.
I twist the stem of my wineglass, watching the wine catch the light. Glass number three? Four? Fuck it, who’s counting?
A Heat Island brochure sits open on my lap, its glossy pages showcasing pristine white beaches, infinity pools overlooking turquoise waters, and honeymoon suites that cost more per night than my monthly mortgage payment. On any other day, landing a wedding at Heat Island would have me dancing around this apartment, calling every industry contact I have just to brag.
Six weeks to plan a Heat Island wedding, I think as I blow my nose and crumple another tissue, adding it to the growing pile beside me. For my baby sister. With my three ex-fiancés.
I grab my phone and pull up the photos Josephine sent. There they are—Egret, Brendin, and Saren. Still gorgeous. Still successful. Presumably still annoying ass alphas to their very core.
They could practically have their pick of any woman they wanted, and they chose my sister.
Josephine is beautiful, sweet and uncomplicated. Everything I’m not. The little girl inside me, who has never quite been good enough, understands completely.
See, that sad little voice whispers.Just like we always thought.
I flash back to that final fight.
Egret: “You’re impossible to take care of, Trinity. An omega should want to be provided for.”
Then Brendin: “Your career will always come first. That’s not how this is supposed to work.”
And finally, Saren: “I need someone who’ll be waiting at home, not the party girl who wants to be out all night.”
Working, I want to scream at the echo of his voice in myhead.I was out all night working.Club promotion was how I got enough experience to land my internship in college.
I throw my phone across the couch and it bounces into a pile of fabric samples for a client appointment tomorrow. My career. Always my career. The thing I built from nothing, the thing that gives me purpose and pride and financial independence. The thing that apparently makes me unlovable.
“I could just say no,” I tell the wedding cake catalogue mocking me from the end table. “Tell Josephine I’m too busy.”
But my sister would never forgive me. She looked so happy today, so excited. And besides, turning down this job would look like I still care about alphas I haven’t thought about in years. Like I’m still hurting. Like they still matter.
“I could claim a scheduling conflict. Maybe something for a big corporate client with an emergency event.”
But Josephine knows my schedule better than I do sometimes. She’d see through that in a heartbeat.
And what am I going to do—miss my baby sister’s shotgun wedding? My family would never let me live it down.
I pick up the Heat Island brochure again, running my fingers over the embossed lettering. This resort is the crown jewel of destination weddings. Celebrities, royalty, titans of industry—they all flock there for privacy and luxury. Having a Heat Island wedding in my portfolio would open doors I’ve been knocking on for years.
