I sink the last of my tequila as Mum finishes pinning up the final curl on the bun at the top of my head. My hair’s half-up, half-down—curls falling from the bun as the rest of it cascades down my back. As usual, it looks perfect. Because Mum did it. Fiona handled my makeup.It’s simple. Just a little concealer, mascara, brow gel, and a subtle contour around my cheeks and jaw. They always make me feel like me—just an elevated, classier version.“You just look so perfect,” they whisper at the same time.They’ve done May and me in similar, but not identical, styles. We wear the same dress, but I’ve chosen black heels while she’s gone with bright green ones that match her emerald eyes.“Are we done? I’m out of booze, and I’m guessing I’ll need more if I have to sit through picture time,” I snap, still salty that everyone keeps making decisions about my life without actually asking me.“Yes, you may go. But you have fifteen minutes, then we’re taking photos!” Mum warns.I roll my eyes and
Last Updated : 2025-08-01 Read more