Page 14 of The Fling (Close Quarters 2)

“Just peachy. Everything is fine.”

It’s a total lie and Presley shoots me a look across the room. She’ll try on her dress after the bridesmaids are done, so she’s still wearing her blue skinny jeans and a cream silk blouse. I’d told her all about the GPITA—Giant Pain in the Ass—who is the best man.

“Why do I not feel confident about that?” Annaleigh asks with a crease between her perfectly plucked brows. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” I wave a hand and get a slap on the thigh from the dressmaker, who tells me to stand still. “We’re currently...aligning our approach for the party.”

“He’s being a disagreeable bastard,” Presley chimes in, and I snort. It’s funny hearing my sister swear in public, since she always seems so prim and proper unless it’s only the two of us.

“I’ll work it out,” I reassure the other women. “I don’t care if I have to track the guy down personally and beat him over the head. We’regoingto have the costume party.”

“I thought it was such a fun idea,” Sherilee says. I’m surprised I have her support. Something told me the Stepford bridesmaids wouldn’t be into dress-up parties, but Presley and Ilivedfor them as kids. It’s a nostalgic thing. “The wedding itself will be very formal and we can all get our party dresses out for the hen’s night. This is a chance to do something different. It’s a good idea, Drew.”

My heart warms for a second at Sherilee’s firm nod of approval, her expression serious as always. “Thanks.”

“Ugh, men. I swear to God, they’re terrible at organising anything until we do something they don’t like and then all of a sudden they want to be hands-on.” Pauline snorts. “Typical.”

“Whoisthe best man, anyway?” I ask. “One of Mike’s friends?”

“His cousin, actually. Some corporate bigwig.” Presley shrugs. “I’ve never met him.”

“You’ve never met him?” I blink. “Does he live in another country?”

“No.” My sister shifts her position, turning away ever so slightly so I can’t see her whole expression. A bad feeling settles in my gut—we’ve never been the kind of twins who had that whole “twintuition” thing, but Iknowher. Better than anyone. Something is off. “He lives in Melbourne.”

“How come you’ve never met him?” I ask.

There’s an awkward silence in the room now—so thick it’s like soup. Hot, awkward, gross soup. “Mike’s family has a lot of drama. I’ve never met his stepbrother, either. They’re...estranged, I guess you could say.”

I raise a brow. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah. His parents had a nasty split years ago and it made things super uncomfortable for the family business—Mike works so hard but he’s constantly stressed that his stepbrother is going to come home one day and take the company from him, because he’s the ‘real’ son.” She shakes her head. “And I think he asked his cousin to be his best man because he wantedsomeonefrom the family to stand next to him, but he doesn’t want his stepbrother there.”

“That’s sad,” Sherilee murmurs.

I have to agree. My family isfarfrom perfect. It was just Presley and me and our mum growing up because our dad was never in the picture. Who has twins off a random one-night stand? Talk about bad luck. So our mum was young and she probably wasn’t very well equipped, and our grandparents didn’t speak to her for a long time after it happened. They only came back into our lives when we were in high school. There’s still tension and hurt there. But we make do. They’reallcoming to the wedding, because our family rallies, even if it takes them a while.

“Yeah. I guess it’s that whole thing about money not buying happiness.” She sighs. Her fiancé’s family are rich—proper rich. And we grew up aspiring for middle class. But Presley has worked hard in her career, as I’ve done in mine. We take care of our mum as best we can and we’re happy. Mostly. “They seemed so perfect the first time I met them, but it was like an onion of drama. Every time you peeled back another layer there were more family secrets. More scandals or affairs or feuds.”

I don’t like the sound of that. Presley is a lover, not a fighter—she’s sweet and liked by all and I can’t see her being happy in a family like that. But I bite back the urge to say so, because ultimately who she marries is her decision. Maybe she won’t end up having much to do with his family.

“All right.” The brusque dressmaker gets slowly to her feet. “It’s the bride’s turn.”

She whisks Presley into a change room, and I stare at myself in the big section of curved mirrors that frames the room. Objectively, the dresses are pretty. And on the other women with their beautiful hair and tanned complexions, the design is perfection. But on me...hmm.

I’m sure it’ll be fine on the day. Having a pair of high heels on instead of Docs will do wonders.

“You’re very different, you and Presley,” Sherilee says as we stand around, waiting for the bride’s big reveal. “Especially for identical twins.”

“Maybe that’s exactlywhywe we’re different.” I shrug. “At some point after years of comparison, it’s appealing to stand out as an individual.”

She nods. “I can see that. My parents always compared me to my older brother—nothing I did was ever good enough.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Seriously. I felt like I was the dud child until I married my husband and then suddenly I was legitimate in their eyes.” She shoots me a rueful smile. “And that’s only because they want me to start popping out kids. They’re desperate to be grandparents.”

“And you’re not ready?”

---