“I know, I know,” Andrew says, flinching away when Sabrina smacks him on the other arm. He shoots puppy dog eyes my way. “I’m so sorry, Lizzy.”
“It’s fine,” I say, easily. Truly. “Snakes under the bridge. Oh, look! Zan, I forgot you dressed as Godzilla for the festival that year. You’re adorably ferocious.”
“Cutest deadly lizard I’ve ever met,” Nick says congenially, somehow still oblivious to the fact that Zan wants to murder him. Slowly.
Probably with that fork she has poised over his bent head as he sits cross-legged at the coffee table in front of her, shoveling cake into his mouth.
Kicking her foot, I mouth, “Stop it,” waiting until I’m sure she’s going to spare Nick’s life before turning back to the screen in time to see a shot of Jeffrey, Andrew, and I as teens, all dressed up for their parents anniversary celebration.
My heart squeezes in my chest. “Aw. That’s the night I knew.”
“That you were going to send your twin sister to marry me in your place?” Andrew teases, making Sabrina laugh.
“No.” I turn to Jeffrey, who’s already finished his cake and sitting in the armchair beside the couch, his hands folded together. “That I had a thing for the wrong brother.”
Jeffrey winks. “The right brother. Nine out of ten reasonable adults agree I’m the superior specimen.”
“I don’t know where you got that polling data,” Andrew says around a bite of cake. “Because my approval rating is through the roof these days. I told you all from the beginning, the people can’t stay mad at me for long. They’ve totally forgotten I was stupid enough to be tricked by my fiancée’s twin sister.”
“I’m sure seeing firsthand how much they look alike has helped.” Nick glances between Sabrina and me as he licks chocolate icing from his fork. “Seriously. I still sometimes get confused, and I’ve been living with you creepy, matching people for months now.”
“Then you’re an idiot.” Zan snorts. “There are literally dozens of differences, all obvious to anyone with eyes.”
Nick laughs. “Sure, if you’ve grown up with them your entire life.”
“I could always tell them apart,” Jeffrey says, nodding subtly toward the door when I glance his way. I nod and point to the screen, signaling that we’ll make our escape as soon as the montage is over.
When it is, I stand, brushing a few stray crumbs from my dress. “Jeffrey and I are going downstairs for classic movie night in the lobby. Anyone need anything while we’re out?”
“More champagne from the hotel shop,” Sabrina says, narrowing her eyes at the room service cart. “We’ll be through the first two bottles by then and ready for reinforcements. I’m not going to bed until sunrise. It’s been too long since I’ve stayed up all night and had too much to drink.”
“Same,” Andrew says, holding up a finger that he points Jeffrey’s way. “Get another bottle of white wine, too. And some of that electrolyte water for hangover treatment tomorrow. Just in case.”
“And popcorn,” Nick adds. “If they have any left at the end of the movie. A big bucket, lots of butter.”
“All you do is eat,” Zan grumbles beneath her breath as she cuts herself a second slice of cake.
“Pot, have you met kettle?” Sabrina asks. Then she wiggles her fingers my way. “Goodbye, you two. Have fun. We’ll keep the babies of the family from killing each other while you’re gone.”
“We don’t want to kill each other,” Nick says at the same time Zan grunts, “That’s what you think.”
“Do you want us to stay?” I ask, wondering if my buzzed sister is up for the challenge of keeping our other sister from murdering her brother-in-law.
Sabrina laughs and waves us on. “It’s fine. Go. Enjoy.”
Jeffrey takes my hand, murmuring as we turn to go, “Don’t worry. Nick isn’t as innocent as he pretends to be.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper outside the hotel room door.
“He’s well aware that ignoring your sister’s attitude is driving her round the bend. He’s got his eye on her.” He shrugs, starting the long trek toward the elevator. There are only four suites on this floor—all as massive as ours—so the hallway is almost always quiet. “And she wouldn’t really hurt him.”
I arch a brow his way, muttering, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
I haven’t told Jeffrey about my strange call with Zan that night last summer—she made it clear I’m still sworn to secrecy—but I have told him that I’m worried about my littlest sister. She hasn’t been herself lately.
Or rather, she’s been more of herself. More intense, more short-tempered, more likely to tell you exactly what she thinks of you first and worry about hurt feelings later.
But even the crankiest version of Zan thinks Jeffrey and I are a brilliant match.
And we are.
I lean into him. “So, what masterpiece are we going to be enjoying tonight?”