Three years later

“I just don’t see why it matters,” April said, trying to remain diplomatic. Trying not to unleash a torrent of words all over her sister’s head. “The dresses are yellow, Kristin. Yellow. It’s not like pink clashes with it, so who cares?”

Her sister’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed to resemble hot, burned pumpkin seeds. April had never seen eyes shrink and change that fast. Clearly one of them cared.

“Who cares? Doesn’t matter?” Her sister’s arms flew upward, automatically tossing the volume of her voice higher with it. “I asked the wedding coordinator to keep the color pink out of this wedding, and I meant out of it. It’s so cliché. It’s so overdone. It’s so generic.”

April didn’t think now was the time to point out that all those words meant exactly the same thing. She bit her lip and commanded the grammar nerd inside her to shut up.

“When we were little, pink was your favorite color, so maybe it’s a sign.”

Kristin glared at her. “A sign of what—that I’m no longer four years old? Thanks a lot for pointing out that I’m getting old.”

One—Kristin was twenty-five. Exactly three years older than April.

Two—this conversation was stupid.

But Kristin didn’t think so. “I’m so angry with her right now I could scream!”

Which was exactly what she was doing. April glanced behind her to see people all over the Target parking lot staring at them. She gave a little wave and a pathetic smile and turned back to her sister.

“Well then, the good news is the coordinator quit so you’ll be able to avoid any more screaming for today. There’s always an upside.”

“You’re not helping, April.” Kristin’s head came down to rest on the car door. April heard a sniffle, then another. Yelling and crying—this day just kept getting better and better. “How could she quit on me four days before the wedding? It’s four days before the wedding!”

April stepped forward and patted her sister’s back. What else could she do? She was trying to give comfort, trying to be supportive, trying not to think of the fact that it was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon and she had lyrics to write and coffee to drink and a pedicure appointment in an hour, and of all the things on her list of things to do she could not miss that. Her feet were embarrassing, her toenails chipped and jagged, and she would not walk down the aisle as the maid of honor with gross feet. She would, however, rethink the color she’d already mentally chosen. Pink was not the way to go in this situation.

“Because she’s rude and thoughtless and completely unprofessional, that’s why,” April said. She didn’t add that her sister was also rude and overbearing and ridiculously demanding and if she, herself, had been the wedding coordinator she would have quit months ago. There was nothing wrong with the color pink. Or with omitting the receiving line—no one liked those anyway. Or with doing away with the traditional cake and replacing it with cupcakes. But her sister had dismissed every creative idea the lady came up with. Not surprising since Kristin was currently studying for the state bar exam, and lawyers were some of the most unimaginative people April had ever met, if her father and his friends were any indication.

So, truthfully, April was a little proud the coordinator quit. Still, she had to help somehow, if only to make her sister feel better.

“If there’s anything you need me to do, just let me know.” She checked the time on her phone. Forty-nine minutes and counting.

She almost didn’t notice when her sister’s head snapped up. “Really? Because you could do it.”

April squirmed against the tightness in her chest. It squeezed her like a snake intent on swallowing her for dinner. “I could do what?” Denial. Denial was her friend.

“You could be the coordinator. It’s just for four days.”

Just four days. That was like saying the Battle of the Alamo was just four days. Like saying God created the heavens and earth in just four days. April wouldn’t survive. She couldn’t work as fast as God, and even if she could, she would end up killing her sister. And as much as she needed some alone time to write, solitary confinement in a prison cell wasn’t currently on her bucket list of things to do.

“Um . . .” she studied her fingernails. “I don’t know. I’m a little busy right now and—”

Kristin huffed. “Busy doing what?”

“Busy working. Writing songs. Trying to land a record deal. It all takes time, and I just don’t see how—”

“You’ve been doing that for over three years now.” Kristin made a disgusted sound. “It’s about time you accepted the fact that it will probably never happen. I need your help. You can go back to writing your little jingles on Monday after the wedding.”

Jingles. And this is how her family saw her, every last one of them. As if it was her fault she hadn’t yet been discovered. Her fault that the right place and right time hadn’t yet surfaced for her. Her fault that a guy she worked with had ripped off one of her lyrics three years back and made a huge success of himself while she still passed out drinks and peanuts at the same stupid dive bar.

April took a deep breath and forced herself not to hate Jack Vaughn. As always, it took work, especially considering she’d heard a rumor he was in town for a few days. The idea alone sent a ripple of anger up her spine, one she quickly commanded to go away. To think she once had a ridiculous crush on him. April nearly gagged just thinking about it. Besides, Kristin needed her. They were sisters—and friends. And despite their differences in opinion, they really did love each other.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

The relieved look on Kristin’s face made relenting worth it. “Thank you. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“What do I need to do?” April asked.

For the first time all day, her sister smiled. “Really, not that much.”