We spent almost every holiday with Grandpa, since he lived in Italy at that time. A world-renowned artist, he painted our portraits when we turned eighteen. They were how he saw us…in our youth, at the height of our potential. Every loving brushstroke spoke of his high regard and hopes for us, and I want mine so bad it hurts. It’s the only thing I’ll have of him.
“Don’t you want them?” I ask.
“Of course I do. It’s just…” She takes a moment. “I can’t help but wonder if this is the way to do it.”
“There is no other way, unless Dad keels over before he can change his will.”
Assuming he’s even left the portraits to us in his latest version. He could’ve very well left instructions to have them burned, for no other reason than to spite us. Dad isn’t just an asshole…he’s the entire fucking lower intestine.
A moment passes before she says, “You sure you don’t want me to attend the ceremony?”
“Yes. We’re going to do it the fastest and easiest way. It’s all a formality, nothing special.” I stretch out on the couch. “If I do find the woman of my dreams, I’ll have a grand ceremony and invite you. How about that?”
She lets out a short skeptical puff of air, but still says, “Deal.”
* * *
Annabelle
Despite her promise, Nonny’s still up. Technically she’s in bed, but she’s wide awake, so I consider that breaking the spirit of the promise.
“But it’s not my fault!” she protests. “I was in Ryder Reed’s Ferrari! It even smelled like him inside.” A dreamy smile curves her mouth, and she sighs softly.
“And how do you know what Ryder Reed smells like?”
“Because! Who else could it smell like?”
“Some Italian guy named Ferrari?”
She makes a face. “You’re no fun.” Then she suddenly sits up. “So why did Elliot call you Gigi? That’s not your name.”
“It’s a long story.” How can I tell my sister I’m going to pretend to be some woman named Gigi so Elliot can marry me and get his kicks in return for a million dollars?
“I’ve got time,” she insists in that stubborn tone of hers. It reminds me of my younger self…before everything came crashing down and I had to grow up.
“No, you don’t. You have school tomorrow.”
She pouts. “Fine. Then how come you never told me you’re dating Ryder Reed’s half-brother?”
I roll my eyes, but at least this is something I can answer without lying. “It never came up, and I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know?”
“Do you ask boys in your class if they’re related to somebody famous when you first meet them?”
Nonny’s mouth purses.
“Right. And Elliot didn’t volunteer the information. So…”
“Well I’d sure volunteer the information! I’m going to tattoo I’m related to Ryder Reed on my chest after you marry Elliot.”
“Agh! No!”
“Why not?”
“My gosh, Nonny. You’re too young for that. Besides, what if…uh…Ryder loses all his hair prematurely? You still going to be okay with the tattoo?”
“The men in his family don’t really go bald. I checked.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “There will be no talk about tattooing in this household until you’re at least eighteen.” I give her my sternest look. “I’m serious.”
She huffs. “Fine.”
“And Nonny… Don’t breathe a word about Elliot—or Ryder—to anyone.”
“But—”
“Please.”
Her stubborn look says she won’t give in so easily.
I wrack my brain for something, and finally say, “Talking about good things too early can jinx them.”
She frowns. “You think so?”
“Yes. That’s why you don’t even think about it until it’s a done deal. It would be really bad if you didn’t get to meet Ryder Reed because you talked too soon.”
“No way! A jinx? That’s just a silly superstition.”
I shrug. “Fine. Jinx it. It’s only your chance to meet the Ryder Reed…”
“Oh my god, that’s so evil!”
I hide my smile. She wouldn’t talk even if a thousand flying monkeys came after her. “Now go to sleep. I’m going to take a shower.”
She sticks her tongue out, but drops back on the mattress and pulls the sheet up. “By the way, a bunch of boxes came for you. I put them in your section of the closet.”
They must be from the store Josephine and I went to. “Did you see what they were?” I ask.