about meeting Nicolette’s new boyfriend. She had never known Nicolette to be in a serious relationship with anyone. Normally she went from one man to the next, getting out before the relationship turned serious. Trista thought her sister secretly sabotaged her own relationships so she wouldn’t get hurt. She imagined it had something to do with her own parent’s fucked-up relationship.
Trista’s bedroom had a panoramic view of the Gulf of Mexico with floor-to-ceiling windows. A custom-made, king-size, round bed took up the middle of the room. Trista’s decorator spared no expense when it came to decorating her house, especially the master suite. Everything was made just for this room, including bedding worth four thousand dollars: silk comforters and throw pillows, five-thousand-thread-count sheets of Egyptian cotton, all done in soft hues of lavender, grey, and yellow. Handmade furniture and local artwork by Carl Coleman adorned the walls. She wondered why Nicolette had never moved into the master bedroom after her long absence. Trista had been gone for two years, with only the occasional visit. Yet her sister stayed in one of the guest rooms on the second floor.
She glanced in the mirror and applied her favorite Urban Decay lip gloss. She had the hairdresser at the spa do a blowout on her honey-blonde hair, making it shiny and smooth. The facial and body scrub she received made her complexion glow from head to toe. Her toenails had been applied with OPI Cajun Shrimp, to complement the coral maxi was she wearing, and her fingernails had a couple coats of Essie Tennis Corset, a white polish with a touch of glitter. She felt more like herself than she had since her split with Blake. Trista didn’t know if it was the day at the spa and new clothes or the great sex. Either way, she planned on more of all of it in the coming weeks—her self-prescribed medicine.
Trista took a deep breath. “It’s now or never,” she said before heading out. Once downstairs she found around fifty people gathered in the open living room. Nicolette had hired a party planner to help with the event. The whole place was decorated festively with silver and white balloons, glittering candles, and fresh white roses. Everyone stopped in mid-conversation and stared at Trista as she entered the room. Nicolette looked up from her conversation with a group of girls, her eyes on Trista as she walked toward her. Nicolette cleared her throat. “Um, everyone. We have a special guest tonight. This is Trista Carmichael. My sister.”
Trista blushed uncomfortably. She registered the shocked look on the guests’ faces and heard the murmuring of the crowd. So Nicolette hadn’t told her friends about her. That was typical. Her sister didn’t want Trista to steal her spotlight.
“I didn’t know Trista Carmichael was Nicolette’s sister?”
“What? How is that possible? I thought she was an only child!”
“Didn’t she get fired from that show?”
“Hello, everyone! I look forward to meeting all of you personally. First, I need a drink!” Trista gave an awkward laugh before heading into the kitchen. The caterers were setting up a large buffet with fresh Florida seafood, corn on the cob, cheese grits, and a variety of desserts. Trista grabbed a champagne flute from a silver tray sitting on the kitchen counter. She took a hearty gulp, trying to steady her nerves.
“You handled that well,” Nicolette said from behind her.
“You never told anyone that we were sisters? Are you that ashamed of me?”
“No, it just never came up.”
“Will we ever be able to put our differences behind us?” Trista asked.
“This is not the time to discuss our differences . James will be here any minute now, and this is supposed to be his surprise party. The key word being surprise .”
“Okay Nicolette. But we can’t kept putting this off forever.”
“He’s coming!” One of the girls shouted from the living room. “Everyone hide!”
“Tomorrow
Trista’s bedroom had a panoramic view of the Gulf of Mexico with floor-to-ceiling windows. A custom-made, king-size, round bed took up the middle of the room. Trista’s decorator spared no expense when it came to decorating her house, especially the master suite. Everything was made just for this room, including bedding worth four thousand dollars: silk comforters and throw pillows, five-thousand-thread-count sheets of Egyptian cotton, all done in soft hues of lavender, grey, and yellow. Handmade furniture and local artwork by Carl Coleman adorned the walls. She wondered why Nicolette had never moved into the master bedroom after her long absence. Trista had been gone for two years, with only the occasional visit. Yet her sister stayed in one of the guest rooms on the second floor.
She glanced in the mirror and applied her favorite Urban Decay lip gloss. She had the hairdresser at the spa do a blowout on her honey-blonde hair, making it shiny and smooth. The facial and body scrub she received made her complexion glow from head to toe. Her toenails had been applied with OPI Cajun Shrimp, to complement the coral maxi was she wearing, and her fingernails had a couple coats of Essie Tennis Corset, a white polish with a touch of glitter. She felt more like herself than she had since her split with Blake. Trista didn’t know if it was the day at the spa and new clothes or the great sex. Either way, she planned on more of all of it in the coming weeks—her self-prescribed medicine.
Trista took a deep breath. “It’s now or never,” she said before heading out. Once downstairs she found around fifty people gathered in the open living room. Nicolette had hired a party planner to help with the event. The whole place was decorated festively with silver and white balloons, glittering candles, and fresh white roses. Everyone stopped in mid-conversation and stared at Trista as she entered the room. Nicolette looked up from her conversation with a group of girls, her eyes on Trista as she walked toward her. Nicolette cleared her throat. “Um, everyone. We have a special guest tonight. This is Trista Carmichael. My sister.”
Trista blushed uncomfortably. She registered the shocked look on the guests’ faces and heard the murmuring of the crowd. So Nicolette hadn’t told her friends about her. That was typical. Her sister didn’t want Trista to steal her spotlight.
“I didn’t know Trista Carmichael was Nicolette’s sister?”
“What? How is that possible? I thought she was an only child!”
“Didn’t she get fired from that show?”
“Hello, everyone! I look forward to meeting all of you personally. First, I need a drink!” Trista gave an awkward laugh before heading into the kitchen. The caterers were setting up a large buffet with fresh Florida seafood, corn on the cob, cheese grits, and a variety of desserts. Trista grabbed a champagne flute from a silver tray sitting on the kitchen counter. She took a hearty gulp, trying to steady her nerves.
“You handled that well,” Nicolette said from behind her.
“You never told anyone that we were sisters? Are you that ashamed of me?”
“No, it just never came up.”
“Will we ever be able to put our differences behind us?” Trista asked.
“This is not the time to discuss our differences . James will be here any minute now, and this is supposed to be his surprise party. The key word being surprise .”
“Okay Nicolette. But we can’t kept putting this off forever.”
“He’s coming!” One of the girls shouted from the living room. “Everyone hide!”
“Tomorrow
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