“No,” I argue. “He totally gets love, Wren. He embraces that it’s messy and complicated and imperfect, and he’s exploring that. He’s trying to figure out why he loves this woman so much and if it’s possible to let her go because being with her would hurt people he cares about.”
“I’m seriously second-guessing your decision to follow in my footsteps, little sis.” Wren unsnaps a cream blush compact and dabs some peachy-pink on the apples of her cheeks. “Sure you don’t want to go back to school to study literature? I mean, you’re digging pretty deep here. It’s just a notebook full of ramblings from some deranged guy, and you’re painting it like it’s the second coming of Romeo and Juliet.”
“Don’t burst my romantic little bubble. I want to believe this is legit.” I clasp my hands over the front cover of the book and exhale, shoulders falling. “I have this image of him in my mind, dashing and broad-shouldered. Dark hair. Brooding stare. The kind of guy who brings you flowers for no reason and leaves love letters on your pillow and loves you with an intensity so fierce it physically hurts.”
“I love how you’re inserting your ideal man into someone else’s love story.”
“Oh, now you’re admitting it’s a love story?”
My sister rolls her eyes, fighting a smile. “Whatever.”
“I just hope they’re together now, you know? I hope they figured things out and they’re happy and that love won. Because it should. Love should always win.”
“Tell that to my ex,” Wren mutters before glancing at her phone and pressing the button to light the screen. “Shit. I’m running late. If I’m not done by three, can you pick Enzo up from St. Anthony’s?”
“Of course. Just text me and let me know.” I love picking my nephew up from school. He’s eight, so I don’t embarrass him yet, and he’s still so full of wonderment and adorable little boy smiles, and his freckled face always lights up when he sees me despite the fact that we live together twenty-six days of the month. Enzo knows when Aunt Aidy picks him up from school, we stop at the pretzel cart and the park on the way home. “Good luck today. Not that you need it.”
Wren slides her palms down the front of her high-waisted dress before stepping into a pair of Kelly green ballet flats. She’s highlighted and contoured to perfection, her skin dewy and her lashes on point. My sister is one of those people who look flawless no matter what, makeup or no. I like to think it’s her inner beauty that does most of the work. She can be tough on the outside sometimes, her exterior resin-like and hard to crack, but inside she’s chock full of little rays of gentle moonbeams and glittery stardust, and she’d do anything for anyone.
My phone dings from the nightstand, and I stretch across the bed to grab it. “Awesome. Just got a new appointment from the app. Twelve-thirty next Friday.”
Wren gives me an air high five and scans the room for her bag. Last year, we launched an app, Glam2Go, where local clients can schedule their own personal makeup artist to come to their home and get them all gussied up for their big event or date night or whatever they’re doing. We’re growing in sizable increments, building up a solid base of clientele with a few B-list celebrities peppered in.
It’d be nice to have something steady and consistent, but we do pretty well for ourselves. Wren tends to take the daytime appointments so she can be with Enzo outside of school hours, and I take the nights and weekends. Twice a month, Enzo stays with his dad in Brooklyn, and Wren helps me out. We’re starting to book out a couple weeks at a time now, and soon we’re going to need to hire more artists.
“Any plans today?” Wren asks, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“The usual.” I shrug. “Probably go to the gym. Check the blog. Plan my next tutorial. Order supplies. Maaaaaybe take a nap . . .”
“Must be rough,” she teases, tossing me a wink. Standing in the doorway, she turns back to me. “Why don’t you take that notebook back, okay? It doesn’t belong to you. Go put it back where you found it or else . . . karma.”
Last week I was strolling down Lexington Avenue on a gloomy Monday afternoon when it began to sprinkle. Within seconds, the wind picked up