Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“Oh. There you are.” When we’re within a few feet of each other, his steps slow down significantly. “Jesus, man. What happened to you?”
“Petra and I went for a walk,” I enunciate, daring him to make a smart-ass remark.
Amusement twinkles in his eyes. “Oh.” He clears his throat, the mirth dying as quickly as it appeared. “We’re having a bit of a problem back at wedding headquarters.”
I arch a brow, barely able to concentrate on what my brother is saying. All I can hear is Petra telling me she’s lonely after we have sex. “What is it?”
“Karen’s makeup artist got Covid. She just called to cancel.” Craig paces away, raking ten fingers through his hair. “Karen is losing her shit, dude. She doesn’t have a makeup artist on her wedding day.”
“Did somebody say makeup artist?”
Every muscle in my body goes on high alert when Petra comes stumbling toward us, out of the woods and onto the path. She’s fully clothed, if you can call a sports bra and shorts “fully clothed” (I don’t), but she looks like she’s been attacked by a pack of roving wolves. Mud streaks on her arms, legs and back. Twigs in her hair. Chafe marks everywhere. My God. I did that to her. A girl I outmatch in strength and size.
Thankfully, she’s found a way to wipe the come off her stomach.
Probably with the use of my sweatshirt, which she’s holding in her hand.
Craig’s jaw drops and he looks at me, horrified. Accusatory.
Can I blame him?
“Uh…” Craig begins.
“I know. I know. I look a little worse for the wear. It’s my fault. I slipped down an embankment, and it must have rained overnight, because hello mud.” Petra whips a phone out of the pocket of her shorts. “What is Karen’s phone number? I’ll text her some of my work. Mainly, my subjects are my sisters, but I am way better than nothing.”
Craig rattles off a number.
Petra fires off a few pics and gets a response within fifteen seconds.
Her chest inflates and she does a little dance, beaming at me, causing my pulse to skitter. “She loves the pictures I sent. She’s going to let me do her makeup. Bridal makeup.”
Craig doubles over, planting his hands on his knees. “Oh, thank God. Crisis averted.”
Petra is already running up the path, toward the resort entrance. “I’m just going to take a quick shower, grab my bag of tricks and go have a consult.” She leaps into the air, doing a full three sixty. “I’m doing the bride’s makeup!”
I stare after her retreating form with a lodgment in my throat.
How can I only have one more day with her?
“Hey, man,” Craig says, shaking me by the shoulder. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
He laughs. “Everyone loves her. Especially Grandma.” He claps me on the shoulder. “But I know she didn’t fall down an embankment. Be a little more aware of your own strength. You could hurt her.”
My stomach roils and now, I’m doubled over, too, alongside my brother.
“Women, right?” Craig laughs, shouldering me.
I shoulder him back, and in that moment, I’m amazed how Petra has brought me closer to my family, simply by existing. Is there a possibility that she’ll allow me to see her past this weekend? In a way that isn’t a paid job?
If not, I fear I’m going to go broke trying to stay in her life.
To keep her in mine.
Yes. I’m starting to think I have no choice.
Now that I’ve been with Petra, being without her is impossible.
Petra
Karen asks for an understated summer glow.
I blend a touch of cream bronzer with highlighter on her cheeks, giving her the perfect balance of warmth and luminosity. A metallic champagne eyeshadow brings out her eyes. A rose petal pink gloss on her lips later, Karen is so thrilled with her look, I’m being asked to do makeup on all the bridesmaids, too.
I lose track of time going from one woman to another, then touching up Karen. The mother of the bride gets curious about my tools, then suddenly I’m doing her makeup, too. In one sense, I’m in total heaven. In another, I’m hungry and thirsty and…missing Barry.
I’m starting to feel dizzy when I hear a firm knock on the door of the bridal suite, but I don’t glance up from the liquid eyeliner I’m applying to a girl named Robyn.
“Who is it?” sings Karen, sipping from a teacup.
“Barry.”
Karen laughs. “No men allowed in the bridal suite, Barry—”
“I’m coming in, like it or not. Petra didn’t even have breakfast.”
“Oh.” Karen sits forward, frowning at me. She points to the small buffet set up on the other side of the room. “Why haven’t you eaten anything?”
“Well…” I gesture to the table full of brushes and creams. “I’ve been busy.”
A tuxedo-clad Barry throws the door open and stomps inside carrying a covered dish in his hand, causing more than a few shrieks. He beelines straight for me where I’m applying makeup to the mother of the bride and observes my handiwork. “She looks finished. You’re going to eat.”