“But . . . but . . .”

“No buts. I’d just trip over that dress you got me anyhow.” Apparently Bianca had thought that Edie could wear a glittery green slinky mermaid costume, complete with red wig and seashell bra. And while it would have been hilarious to be the mermaid to Gretchen’s Ursula, it also would have meant a lot of attention and a lot of walking and mingling, and that was not her idea of fun. So she’d hit up a thrift store and made her own costume out of a ragged black asymmetrical skirt, a few plastic Halloween props, and a red-and-white striped blouse that hung off of one shoulder and was probably from the eighties’ Flashdance era. A retro pirate was still a pirate, after all.

“Can’t we at least glitter up your cheekbones?” Bianca asked, holding up her makeup brush.

She resisted the urge to slap the brush out of Bianca’s hand. “No glitter.” When Bianca tried to glitter her face anyhow, she jerked away. “Fuck off with the glitter! Seriously!”

“Don’t you want to be sexy? There’s going to be a lot of hot guys there tonight.”

“Then they can look at your glittery tits all they want,” she said, gesturing at Bianca’s impressive cleavage. “And I’m going to sit in a corner and drink.”

“Party pooper,” Bianca said with a pout. “Magnus will be there.”

“Good for him.” All the more reason she didn’t want to go. “He can look at your glittery tits, too.”

“I thought you liked Magnus,” Bianca said, her eyes going wide.

“Nope. He’s a dick.”

Bianca gave her a narrow-eyed look. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing at all, actually. And we’re going to be late to the party if you don’t finish tarting up your boobs,” Edie said. She really did not want to talk about her dating life—or lack thereof—to perfect Bianca. “Now come on. We need to get decent parking because those cobblestones are going to be hell on a peg leg.”

“You’re the worst,” Bianca said dramatically. “The worst.”

“I know. But you’re my sister so you’re stuck with me.”

***

A short time later, Bianca was glittered up, her smooth hair curled to perfection, and Edie submitted to a bit of lip gloss—no more!—and the sisters were on their way. They spent a few hours in the car and then pulled up to Buchanan Manor, the long, winding driveway lined with limos and expensive cars.

And Edie’s stomach sank a little at the sight of the crowds. She hated parties. And even though the manor house was lit up with glowing lights dotting the walkways and white strings of additional lights hanging from above, she couldn’t muster enthusiasm for the party. Just the sight of the people crowding at the door made her stomach clench unhappily.

Bianca made a happy squeal of excitement. “Look at all the lights on the grounds! It’s so beautiful.”

“It is,” Edie agreed unenthusiastically.

Parking ended up being easier than they thought—Hunter and Gretchen had valets handling all the cars. Of course they did. Money was no object for Hunter, and Gretchen was all too happy to spend some of it on his behalf. They handed off the keys to their car and headed up the long, light-festooned walkway to the doors of the manor, and with each step, Edie regretted the peg leg a little more. The padding she’d put in the knee already felt as if it were non-existent, and it was already hurting. Figured. All the more reason to find a nice, quiet corner and hide for the rest of the evening.

Two men in tuxedos and wearing headsets waited at the doors, checking invitations. Edie passed hers over and waited. “I already cleared with Gretchen that my sister Bianca could attend.”

The man ran his pen down the list, then nodded. “I see her name listed here. Do both of you have masks?”

They received their masks, and then the doors opened and they were enveloped by the party.

Inside the house, the manor was packed from wall to wall with people. Colorful banners of teal and white streamed through the bannisters of the double staircase, and flowers overflowed on every surface. Maids walked past with trays of food and waiters passed out stemmed drinks. Everywhere there were people in elegant costumes and plain black masks.

And . . . here she was, dressed as a pirate. Well, so much for subtlety. At least Bianca would blend in.

“Yeah, this party looks wild,” Edie said. “I’m going to go find me a nice bench to hide out on. I’ll text you when I’m ready to go, okay?”

“Don’t text too soon,” Bianca said excitedly. She gave Edie a quick hug and then wandered off into the party.

Edie wiped off leftover glitter from Bianca’s hug and began to weave her way through the crowd. She’d find Gretchen, say her greetings, claim a bench, and play games on her phone until it was time to leave. Yep, a life of excitement.

A half hour later, she’d greeted Gretchen, who looked utterly fabulous in her costume and was glowing with excitement. She’d spoken for a few minutes with Hunter, who made a dashing figure as the Phantom of the Opera, his mask covering almost all of his scars. The poor man looked almost as uncomfortable as she was, stoically enduring out of love for his fiancée. That was sweet, Edie decided. She chatted with them for several minutes, said hello to a few other bridesmaids, and when her knee protested a bit too long, made her excuses and went off to find that bench she’d been promising herself.

She skirted the edges of the party, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sipping it as she hugged the curtains. There was a small side-hall nearby and a Restrooms sign posted on the wall, with an arrow for party guests. As Edie leaned against the wall, Gretchen strolled past, all purple and tentacles, talking with another bridesmaid. Her literary agent, Edie vaguely remembered. Kat.

“If we start rehearsals now, we can have an amazing dance number as we come down the aisle,” Kat was saying, and Edie stiffened, pushing closer to the curtains so no one would see her.

She could hear Gretchen’s groan. “Absolutely not, Kat. Even if Hunter would agree to something like that—and he won’t—it’d be unfair to Edie.”

Kat gave a gusty sigh of disappointment. “She’s the bitchy one with the bad leg and the clingy sister, right?”

“That’d be her.”

Kat shook her head, her brown ponytail bobbing. She was dressed in a green schoolgirl costume that looked like something from an anime. “It’s a shame that her injury has made her so bitter and unpleasant.”

Gretchen just laughed. “Uh, you do not know Edie very well, do you? Her flawlessness was born to her. She can cut a basic bitch down to size from across a room. It has nothing to do with her leg. She’s always been like that.” She gave a small sigh. “And that’s why I adore her.”

From her hiding spot, Edie smiled to herself. It wasn’t the first time people had assumed she’d become a bitch because of her leg injury. It wasn’t the case. She’d always been impatient with others and quick to judge. Having the leg injury just made her slightly less patient with stupidity than normal. And she was about to tell Kat she could go fuck herself, but stopped.

This was Gretchen’s night. Even she wasn’t enough of a bitch to destroy the engagement party by throwing down with one of the other bridesmaids over an offhand comment. She downed her champagne, set the glass on a nearby rose-covered table, and decided to find someplace else to hide.

Buchanan Manor had a lovely set of terraced patios covered with potted plants of all kinds and a few artistic stone benches. Several sets of doors to one of the larger party halls had been opened to allow guests to explore the patio, and more of the small, sparkly lights strung overhead glimmered, creating a lovely effect outside. There was a chill in the air, though, and so the patio wasn’t very populated . . . which suited Edie just fine. She suspected her pirate costume was warmer than a lot of the other costumes. Other than Gretchen and her very-pregnant sister, most of the women were dressed in skimpy costumes that required a bit of a silky dress and not much else. She’d seen a slutty-looking Cookie Monster stroll past and it made her wonder how someone thought that was appropriate for an engagement party. When you were sexy, though, you could get away with a lot, Edie supposed. She sat down on a bench between two potted evergreens and removed her peg leg, then rubbed her knee. Six years ago, she’d have probably been dressed as a slutty Cookie Monster herself, she thought wistfully. Nah. She’d probably have been a slutty Oscar the Grouch. That was more her style.