I was surprised to see the three Pollard brothers standing in the lobby, greeting some employees and chatting with a small group of men and women I didn’t recognize. My sister was holding onto Jonas Pollard’s arm with her head resting on his shoulder as he talked.

“The golden goose,” Marley whispered.

I grinned. “The happy bride.”

“Why did she even come to this thing? It’s just a work conference.”

“Because Lizzie is the perfect girlfriend and the perfect wife-to-be. If her husband cares about it, so does she. I’m sure she didn’t want to miss this.”

“Barf. You should go say ‘hi’.”

Marley was goading me, but I thought she was probably right. I just didn’t want to be anywhere near the Pollards or my sister when Dean made his arrival. I’d decided our best course of action was to stay under the radar. For all I knew, nobody would even realize both of us were going to be at the conference together. Sure, Dean was one of the speakers we were all supposed to listen to, but it was possible nobody would make the connection, right? It wasn’t like he was a true employee of Pollard, at least. He just came in to do consulting work with the eldest Pollard brother, Maxwell.

“Maybe we should just find our rooms,” I said.

Marley gave me a tug. “Oh, come on. It’d be weird if you don’t at least go say something to your sister. What do people say to brides? Happy wedding? Or is there no catch phrase for that one? Merry Christening? You know, like–”

I rolled my eyes. “No need to elaborate. If I go talk to her will you stop?”

“Yes.”

“You stay right here.”

Marley gave her eyebrows a little wiggle and waited, arms crossed.

I gathered my breath. The anxiety was doing its work. With the speed of a quantum supercomputer, I calculated every horrible outcome of walking up to that group and trying to say something to my sister. I imagined them all laughing at me uncontrollably. I imagined one of the bosses calling me a broke ass loser and smashing a pie in my face–because you never knew when people were hiding pies behind their backs. I even had one image of Lizzie dumping a bucket of pig’s blood all over me, Carrie style, and laughing with everybody in the lobby at my misfortune.

Was any of it logical or likely? No.

Was any of it as mortifying as what was actually about to happen? Definitely not.

I approached the group. Lizzie saved me the embarrassment of having to get their attention. She spotted me and let go of Jonas to come over and intercept me a few steps away from the bosses, wrapping me in a hug.

As usual, she looked vomit-inducingly radiant. Blonde, naturally curly hair that was just curly enough to be stylish and not so curly that it needed tamed. She had skin so perfect she could’ve passed for a sculpture, eyelashes long enough to hang your laundry on to dry, and those boobs. I know it might not be kosher to notice your sister's boobs for any length of time, but hers were just so… there. It was also offensive, considering nature had decided to borrow big boob genes from me and Steph, leaving us with barely a handful while she got buckets of boobs.