The Stepbrother // Luke Hemmings

The Easiest Part

Let's finish this, shall we?

47

"Oh, Annie. I wish you'd loosen up," my mom states from where she's positioned in front of her bedroom vanity mirror. Leaning closer towards her reflection, she fluffs her hair out around her shoulders and then turns slightly around in her seat to glance at me. "It's just the rehearsal dinner, dear. Believe it or not, this is the easiest part."

Her hair has grown considerably since the beginning of the summer and it falls around her small shoulders in beautiful, bronzed layers. I'm sitting on the edge of her bed, sullenly chewing my fingernails, and instead of offering her a response, I watch as she expertly tucks her flyaways behind her ears. She twirls a strand around her freshly manicured fingers and carefully drags them down the length of her hair until they stop to rest against the thin strap of her dress.

"I told Liv I wanted simple, but now I'm starting to think I should've gone for a dress fancier." Her eyes find mine, "What do you think?"

I twist my lips into somewhat of a smile. She's dressed in a gorgeous, ivory, satin slip that stops right above her knees. From the front, it appears to be nothing out of the ordinary, but, once she turns around, elegant, jewel-encrusted straps criss-cross beautifully over her back. Against her honeyed tan, it truly does look stunning.

"That dress is perfect," I admit. "You look amazing, Mom."

A slight smile lifts the corners of her mouth and she tilts her head. "I feel amazing." She smoothes her hands down across the thin fabric covering her thighs and stands from her seat; approaching me. Reaching out, she presses her fingers against the underside of my chin and tilts my head up so that I'm forced to meet her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm not the one getting married." I tease, "I should be asking you that." We're a mere two hours away from the rehearsal dinner and even though I'm not the one getting married, I have to admit, I'm pretty nervous. With everything being finally solidified and the end of the summer coming to a fast close, it's getting harder and harder to ignore reality. My mom is marrying Andrew and soon enough Luke will be my actual stepbrother.

"Seriously, Annie. How are you feeling about everything? The wedding, Andrew, this new life."

I hate it. All of it. Yet, "I feel fine, Mom."

"You're lying."

I am. Yet, "I'm serious. Everything's totally fine!"

"Talk to me, Annie. You've been quiet all week, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," I insist, forcing myself to laugh. Maybe then, she'll believe me.  "I'm fine. Really." It's a lie, of course, but what else is new?

The bed dips as she takes a seat beside me. "What, do you think I'm blind? I'm your mother, I know when you're upset, Anastasia." Her observation doesn't shock me. Of course, she's noticed. Andrew's noticed, Bryana's noticed, and even 'too busy to stop and smell the roses' Liv has noticed. I haven't been myself. Only, it has nothing to do with the wedding and I can't tell her that.

It's been exactly two weeks since the dress fitting and my fallout (and in?) with Luke. It's also the last time I've spoken to him, let alone anyone else in the house. It's been exhausting these last several days. Between the constant errands, last-minute fittings, and finalizations of wedding plans, there hasn't been any time for anyone to stop and take a breather. When I'm not sleeping, I'm with Liv taking another several hundred measurements of the venue. When I'm not showering or trying to scarf down breakfast in ten minutes, I'm yaying or naying floral arrangements.

I hate myself for it, but I miss him. I hate myself even more because I'm the one who sent him away. And I hate myself even more because truthfully, he should be the last person on my mind. With a sigh, I lean over and rest my head on my mother's shoulder. Her arm wraps around me, urging me closer against her, and fingers weave themselves through my curls. "I'm just tired, Mom."