Page 73 of Only and Forever

“Well?” My sister’s eyes search mine.

Pushing up from my seat, I walk closer, a real, wide smile lifting my mouth. “Char. You look... stunning.”

Charlie blinks. Sniffles. And then she bursts into tears.

The seamstress’s eyes widen. I turn toward her. “Would you mind if we just had a minute?”

“Of course.” She’s out of there in no time, leaving us alone.

I wrap my arms around Charlie, who buries her face in my neck and sobs. I do what I have so many times before, when she’s fallen apart. Slowly, I sway her, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, Char. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobs.

“Shh, no sorries from you.”

“I’m such an emotional mess.”

“You’re getting married,” I tell her. “It’s understandable to be emotional—”

“No. Not that. I mean, yes, that, but it’s just Mom and Dad. I’m relieved. I’m angry. I’m tired.”

I’m about to do what I always have. Swallow my own feelings, focus on hers. Reassure her, tell her she’ll be okay. But then I remember what Viggo said earlier this week, earnest and kind.

We’ll be brave together. Little bit by little bit.

“Me too,” I whisper. “I’m feeling all of that, too.”

Charlie pulls away, frantically wiping beneath her eyes. “You are?”

Taking a deep breath, I clasp my sister’s hand. “What do you say we grab ourselves some ice cream?”

TWENTY-ONE

Tallulah

Playlist: “You’re Not Special, Babe,” Orla Gartland

While my favorite place I’ve ever lived was up in the cool, moody beauty of Washington State, there are definitely perks to calling LA home. Fashion. Great weather. And a plethora of kick-ass ice cream shops.

Charlie and I sit beside each other, ice creams in hand, facing the Pacific, toes in the sand as we watch waves break on the shore.

“I really needed this,” my sister says before taking a big bite of her rocky road.

I lick my mint chip and nod. “Me too.”

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, but it isn’t easy, either. We’re in new territory, outside the roles we’ve always occupied. I think we both feel a little lost.

Charlie glances my way, her eyes searching mine. “So,” she says. “What you told me, back at the dress shop... Can we talk about it?”

I clasp her hand and squeeze. “I want to try.”

She nods. “Okay.”

I stare at my sister, debating how to talk about this. “I’m just... trying to feel my feelings, Charlie, silly as that sounds. I’m realizing everything with Mom and Dad messed me up more than I wanted to admit. I might not be very good at talking through this, but I want to work on it.”

“Haven’t you...” Charlie bites her lip nervously. “Haven’t you talked to your friends about this before? I figured you just didn’t talk tomeabout it.”

I lick a drip of my ice cream from its waffle cone, then shake my head. “No. I haven’t.”