Kamille
Kamille studied her reflection in the mirror, at the way the shimmery ivory fabric clung to her figure in a sexy-but-not-slutty way.
“I looooove this dress!” she squealed. “It’s a Vera Wang. What do you think, Kassie?”
No response. Kass was sitting on a chair flipping through a bridal magazine. Actually, it wasn’t even a bridal magazine. It looked like a workbook from school.
“Kass? Kassidy Marie Romero? Hellooooo? Um, Kass? It would be nice if you could join us today,” he added irritably.
“What?” Kass glanced up from her workbook and adjusted her glasses. She had started wearing them a couple of months ago, and they made her look even more egghead-y than she already did. “Oh. Sorry. Spanish homework. Yeah, that dress is fine, Kam.”
“That’s what you’ve said about all the dresses I’ve tried on today,” Kamille pointed out. “Kassie, you’re my maid of honor. I really need you to step up here.”
“Sure. No problem.”
Kamille ran a hand over the ruffly bodice, making sure the tiny microphone was still securely taped to her boobs, and turned her attention back to the mirror. Being filmed was her new “normal” ever since Hank and his crew had started following her (and her family and Chase) around Los Angeles and documenting the wedding preparations.
She still had mixed feelings about selling the TV rights to her and Chase’s wedding to the Life Network, which was producing a reality series called Happily Ever After. When Giles had pitched the idea to her back in January, she’d said no at first. But the money was good—no, great—and Chase had really been into the idea. So she’d finally agreed, and she’d gotten the rest of the family on board, too.
The rest of the family except for Kass. Sure, Kass had technically signed on. She had said she was willing to go along with the shoots, which took up a lot of time and energy and were a new and bizarre kind of intrusion into all their lives. Kamille still wasn’t used to having cameras present during meetings with her wedding planner (the fabulous Courtney Powell) . . . heart-to-heart talks with her mother about the ups and downs of marriage . . . and dates with Chase. Especially the dates with Chase. Kamille felt so self-conscious arguing or making out or whatever in front of the cameras, knowing that a TV audience would be seeing the footage in just a few months.
But. Kass was Kamille’s maid of honor. Not to mention her best friend in the entire world, and, of course, her big sister. So why couldn’t she make more of an effort? If Kamille could get over her camera shyness, so could Kass.
Instead, Kass had been acting like a zombie ever since production began . . . frankly, ever since Christmas, when Kamille and Chase announced their engagement. Kass was supposed to be superhappy and supportive, all giggly and girlie and throwing Kamille lingerie showers and such. Instead, she was basically sleepwalking through her role as maid of honor, on and off camera. And it was already April. The wedding was only two months away! Kamille needed Kass more than ever now, since Chase was so busy with the start of the baseball season.
Could Kass get over her Inner Envy Bitch or whatever and be there for Kamille, already?
Hank gave a signal. “And . . . we’re rolling!”
Kamille beamed at the mirror. “This is my favorite dress so far. What about you, Kassie?”
But Kass was scribbling away in her Spanish notebook, oblivious.
“Stop, stop, stop!” Hank rubbed his eyes. “Why don’t we take a break? Meet back here in fifteen? We’ll go grab some coffee, and . . . Kamille? Can you talk to your sister, please?”
“Um, sure.”
As soon as Hank and the crew had left, Kamille sat down next to Kass, being careful not to wrinkle the dress, which cost more than all the dresses in her closet at home put together. She took a deep breath, trying to channel “calm” and “patient,” which were not exactly natural to her.
“Kass, what’s going on?” she said, calmly and patiently. “You’re totally not into this. The wedding, I mean. And every time I try to talk to you about it, you just get all weird and quiet.”
Kass said nothing.
“Kassie! Talk to me!” Kamille’s voice grew more shrill. So much for calm and patient. “I can’t stand this anymore! What is wrong with you, anyway?”
Kass lifted her head. “You can’t marry Chase,” she stated simply.
“What?”
“You can’t marry Chase. He’s no good for you.”
Kamille balled up her fists. Was her sister out of her mind? How dare she? “What kind of horrible, bitchy thing is that to say?” she shouted. “You’re just jealous because Chase and I are madly in love and you don’t have a boyfriend! That Eduardo guy dumped you because you’re totally uptight about sex! You need to see a shrink! You need to—”
“I’m pregnant,” Kass blurted out.
Kamille started. “W-what did you say?”
“I’m pregnant. I’m five months along.”
Kamille’s gaze dropped to Kass’s stomach. She couldn’t make out a baby bump. On the other hand, she had noticed that Kass was into even baggier-than-usual clothes recently.
“Oh . . . my . . . God!” she gasped. She reached over and hugged Kass, then immediately backed off. “Ohmigod, I’m sorry! Did I hurt the baby? Ohmigod, congratulations! Why didn’t you say anything before? Are you happy? Is Eduardo happy? I’m such an idiot, I thought you guys had broken up, but obviously I was—”
“He and I aren’t together. And he’s not the father,” Kass interrupted.
“He’s not? Then who is?”
Kass shook her head. “Never mind.”
Kamille stared at her sister. Her head was reeling. This explained so much about Kass’s behavior lately. It was the pregnancy hormones. Kamille had heard that they were way, way worse than the usual period ones.
“Does Mommy know?” Kamille asked her. “And the rest of the family?”
“Nope. Not yet. You’re the first.”
“Wow, really?”
“Really.”
Kamille smiled and hugged Kass again, more gently this time. “Sweetie, I’m so glad you told me. And I’m totally going to be there for you! I’ll be your labor coach. Can I be your labor coach? And I’ll go to Lamar classes with you!”
“You mean Lamaze?”
“Yeah, Lamaze! And we can go shopping for baby stuff together! There’s that supercute baby store next to the Starbucks in our neighborhood. You’ll need a crib and a high chair and a stroller and lots and lots of baby clothes. And all those random little things, too, like bibs and sippy cups, and what did Kyle used to call them when she was a baby? Kikis and nanas and babas.”
As Kamille babbled on, she was vaguely aware that Kass didn’t seem all that psyched about Lamaze classes or baby clothes or kikis or nanas or babas. But that was okay. Kamille understood now why her sister seemed so out of it. Single motherhood, raging hormones, getting fat . . . it couldn’t be easy.
Kass had always been there for her, the perfect big sister (except these past few months . . . but she had a good excuse). Now it was time for Kamille to take care of Kass. She would see her through this pregnancy, even help her raise the baby as much as she could. Of course, Kamille would have a new husband and their children to think about soon enough. But for the moment Kass would be her priority. Kass and her beautiful new baby. Kamille’s niece or nephew.
Unless . . . the father planned to be in the picture? But Kamille didn’t think this was the right time to ask. She would wait for a better opportunity, when Kass wasn’t acting quite so moody.