Stay With Me (Come Back to Me #2)

Chapter 11

Adelaide

With a dark wig covering my dirty blonde hair, I almost look like a carbon copy of my mom. Though my skin is a couple shades darker than her pale skin and I definitely have my dad's nose, I look like Mirabel Levesque more than I look like Adelaide Levesque.

And my point is proven when I complete my makeup and head downstairs to joining the bourgeoning party only to have my dad stop in his ridiculously outdated hockey gear that he's using as a costume and blink rapidly at me.

"Thank God you didn't inherit her black hair," he finally says, "or else I'd be awfully confused between my daughter and my wife."

I giggle, imagining Dad yelling at Mom, thinking it's me, for leaving my socks in the middle of the living room like I usually do. "Well, you get the twins mixed up enough and they have different coloured hair," I tease. "I can't even imagine how hard it would be for you."

"Yes," Mom interjects. "It would be extremely difficult for him."

"Please," Aunty Elle snorts. "For Brett, it would be a 'woe is me' situation. Poor big brother." She gives Dad a mocking look that only makes me laugh harder.

Aunty Elle and Mom begin to snicker as Dad shoots them an annoyed look. But we all know he's joking around – he secretly loves it when Mom and Aunty Elle tease him. Actually, him and Uncle Hart love it.

"Well," Uncle Hart says. "You can't blame Brett. Addie does look like a spitting image of Mira."

Everyone turns to inspect my costume, and I instantly feel the weight of the spotlight. The truth is, the only time I can ever excel in the spotlight is when I'm on the court. It's like I have this ability to separate the game from reality – I'm only present in one universe when my feet are on the court. But this? This kind of stuff makes me nervous. I begin to pick at the fraying fabric of my emerald green gown I dug up from one of the Halloween bins we have. It's a beautiful gown – gold thread lines the neckline that stoops low enough to show some shadows, it reaches my ankles, and the sleeves have a gauzy texture. At the front, there's a thin slit that shows some leg. On my feet, I'm wearing socks. Maybe it doesn't go with the costume, but I hate it when my feet are cold. So I guess that's that.

"Yeah, maybe she does," Sophia says. I look at her. She's sitting on the couch dressed as Belle from Beauty and the Beast. She looks, well, beautiful – no pun intended. But the dress is a little short. In fact, all the girls' outfits are short – Nadira as Jasmine and Jacey as Merida.

That was another reason why I didn't want to partake in their costume schemes; I didn't want to fall into that cliché Halloween category of turning childhood wonders into adult versions. And though I accept my body and the way it is, I'm still not a fan of showing it off any other time than swimming during the summer.

Soph eyes me carefully. "You look like a princess. Minus the weird markings on the left side of your face."

"I think it's cool," Jacey offers. "It gives your costume another dimension."

Feeling overly defensive, I say, "Lysandra can turn into a ghost leopard in the novel. That's why I have these black and white markings on my face. She may be a princess, but she's also a warrior that does damage on the battlefield because she's a shapeshifter. I wanted to embrace both parts of her – the princess and the warrior."

My friends look at me like I'm crazy. Mom is smiling at me because she read the same books I'm referring to when she was younger and she's happy I'm defending my reason for choosing this costume. Dad is the same. Uncle Hart is still trying to get over me looking so much like Mom. And Aunty Elle is staring at her daughter, a small frown on her face.

Reactions aside, I'm suddenly wishing Justin were here already. Though Lysandra is a strong character and doesn't actually need a man in her life, I feel like my costume isn't complete without my Aedion – Justin, not his cat. But maybe I'm a little biased – the characters were my OTP; I was totally rooting for them.

Tired of being in the spotlight, I excuse myself and say I'm going to get some water from the kitchen.

Everything goes back to normal after that. Well, normal for everyone else. As I head to the kitchen, I can't help but worry that Justin isn't going to come. He never really clarified if he was coming or not.

I guess so.

That's what he said to me.

Standing in front of the sink to fill up the glass I retrieved, I begin to gnaw on my bottom lip, hoping that he shows up in the costume I gave him this morning.