Page 162 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
I walked over to the bar cart that had been set up, uncorked a bottle of wine, and poured two glasses. I carriedthem to the bed and sat down next to Hazel. Gently, I handed her the glasses, and she took it, gripping the glass and staring into it.
“I don’t hate you,” I said softly, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her against me.
She rested her head on my shoulder. “You don’t hate me?”
“Of course, I don’t. You’re my sister. I might not like you very much at times, but I’ll never hate you, Hazel.”
“Okay,” she mumbled into my glass.
“And yes, you’ve been incredibly selfish, but most brides are. To be perfectly honest, most people don’t fully understand what goes into planning a wedding, and that’s why they hire a wedding planner. My entire job is to make sure nothing is forgotten.”
“But you let me get away with so much before you snapped.”
“Because you’re my sister. I wanted this day to be perfect for you, and that means putting up with your bullshit. I’ve done it for years, after all.” I sipped my wine and gave her a little squeeze. “This was a new experience for me, too. I’ve never been emotionally invested in a wedding the way I am in yours. So… I’m not sorry for what I said to you that day, but I am sorry forhowI said it. I shouldn’t have exploded like that, but I still stand by what I said.”
She nodded, snuggling in closer to me. “You were right. About everything. When everything went to shit… God, Sylvie, I remember sitting here as Thomas told us what had happened and do you know what I thought? I thought, ‘Oh, my God. What about all Sylvie’s hard work? Now what?’ I didn’t even care about the wedding being off, I cared that everything you’d worked so hard on was ruined. Then we looked at everything that needed to be sorted… That was when I realised how terrible I’d been to you. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” I said softly, resting my cheek on top of her head. “Even if that’s notentirelytrue. I know how worried you were about the wedding not going forwards.”
“Well, maybe a little.”
I smiled. “Whatever it all is, it’s done now.”
“I know, but… Thank you, Sylvie. Not just for the wedding, but for everything. Since we were kids.”
Warmth rushed through me, and I sighed, swirling the wine in my glass. “Just remember, as of twelve p.m. tomorrow, you’re a married woman. You can’t be acting like a little bitch anymore.”
Laughter bubbled out of her, and she sat up straight, pushing me away from her. “Is that sister Sylvie speaking?”
“Damn right. Unless you’d like to spend the night going over wedding plans again?”
“I’d rather stab thirty cocktail sticks into my eyes.”
“With the cheese and pineapple attached?”
Hazel tilted her head to the side. “Hmm. Maybe not. The pineapple would sting, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, as opposed to the literal wooden pin going into your eyeball, which I imagine is barely a scratch.”
She grinned at me, the sparkle finally returning to her eyes. “Barely a papercut.”
I shook my head, but I was smiling. “One final warning: if you act like a bitch tomorrow, I will hit you with your bouquet. Or my bouquet. Whatever I can get my hands on.”
She held out her pinkie finger. When I didn’t move, she looped it around one of mine and raised our hands. “I pinkie swear that I, Hazel Harding, will not be a little bitch on my wedding day, nor will I do anything that will cause the best big sister in the whole world any stress.”
“All right, there’s no need to over-promise. We both know you’ll do something.”
She pouted but released our pinkies with a laugh. “Fine. Then, I solemnly swear totryand not stress you out so much.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Okay, now we’re being realistic.”
She swatted my leg and looked into her wine glass. “Oh, dear. It’s empty.” She got up and walked over to the bar cart, filling her glass. She glanced back at mine and, seeing I’d barely touched it, put the bottle back into the ice bucket and rejoined me on the bed.
“So much for not drinking alcohol because you don’t want a puffy face,” I quipped.
“It’s for my nerves.” She sipped. “And because I need something to keep me sane while you fill me in on whatever the hell is going on with you and Thomas.”
I set my glass on the bedside table and got up, clearing my throat. “You know, we have a long day tomorrow. We should really think about an early ni—iiiiight!”
