Mila

 

Dressed in a silk camisole and matching pajama pants, Mila flung the bottle of wine against the bedroom wall. It smashed into pieces. Not in her right mind, she couldn’t find Yasmin and assumed that she had disappeared into the bathroom. Their hotel room shrunk, confining her to an even tinier space.

“Where is she?” Mila asked Veronica and her twin. Wait, was there double the dose of blond hotness beside her?

Just as quickly as Veronica parted ways and became two supermodels, her frame merged back together as she placed her hand on Mila’s shoulders. Her baby blues were wide with concern. “Just take a deep breath.”

Veronica had a bewildered look on her face. The shower had just turned off, and Yasmin was questioning them. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice muffled through the door.

At the sound of her sister’s voice, Mila glanced around.

“Um, who were you on the phone with?” Veronica asked, searching the closet for extra towels. Mila could only presume it was for the wine mess.

Mila’s eyes narrowed. “Nobody yet.” She seemed to remember that she was holding her cellphone in her other hand and placed it to her ear. Yes, she was about to make a call. About to threaten and shout and scream.

“Sweetie, what is going on?” Veronica asked. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“Nope, I need to be up on my toes. Prepared to—Oh you wanna know why I’m . . .” Mila held up her index and thumb in a measurement, lips tensed. She wondered if she was gauging it correctly. “Why I’m two seconds away from snapping. You wanna see me on the news?”

Just then, Mila sagged onto the marble floor, near the spilled wine and glass, hugging her legs to her chest. The threats she just made dried up, leaving only a gorgeous shell of sadness.

Veronica eyed her in shock. They had just come back from dinner. They were all drunk off Grenache-Syrah-Mourvèdre, one of the strongest wines in Napa Valley. Dinner had started off well enough. The girls flirting with the waiter and receiving a free dessert and a wink. But Mila wasn’t a drinker.

And she sure as hell wasn’t a happy drunk under the circumstances.

Veronica kneeled down before Mila. “Sweetheart, you are too close to the glass. You have to get up.”

“What in the world?” Yasmin said from over Veronica’s shoulder. She was dressed in fuzzy pajamas, and a plume of steam trailed after her as she exited the bathroom.

Veronica gave her a confused look. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I am so damn angry with you, Yas!” Mila pointed a stiff finger at her, standing up on shaky legs.

“Because I got to the shower first?” Yasmin’s eyebrows pulled together.

Mila teetered. “You invited Lido to plan my wedding. You offered her the chance to screw me. And she did that! She screwed me out of a million dollars. A million dollars!”

Yasmin and Veronica exchanged glances.

“Huh?” Yasmin asked. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.

Mila held up her cell phone. On the screen was a photo of the wedding dress that Madame Renee had designed for Mila.

“Honey, why is your dress olive green?” Yasmin murmured.

“That’s not my damn dress, Yas! My dress cost a million dollars, and guess what, that bitch spent a million dollars of Blake’s money on her dress as well!”

The story still did not click for her sister. Yasmin continued to blink. Normally, the one arguing and complaining, she was now comfortably swaddled in warm pajamas, good and drunk, having a hard time following Mila’s conversation.

“Oh no.” Veronica understood. “Lido must have called Madame Renee and had her redesign her bridesmaid dress to mimic Mila’s. But how? Why?”

“Forget how. We can imagine why.” Mila rolled her eyes. “We know who just screwed me! I never felt comfortable splurging with Blake’s money and for her to blatantly use him like that.”

Mila’s chest heaved. A vein in her neck pulsed.

“We can’t do anything about it now.” Yasmin rubbed her forearm. “Let’s have another glass of wine. We’re still going to the spa courtesy of Lido. Just tell Blake when you two are happy . . . and maybe pregnant. Men are nicer when you’re carrying their son.”

Mila tried to pull away. Her sister’s attempts to cheer her up were not working.

Yasmin stopped smiling and became serious. “Girl, at the end of the weekend, we are going to go tear that French bitch a new one for allowing Lido to change up the design of her damn dress!”

“What about Lido?” Mila asked. For the first time ever, her gaze twinkled with the same darkness that always seemed to consume Lido.

“We leave her alone, Mila. She is our sister, but there comes a point in time where we cannot work harder than someone else for them to love us. Fuck her, once and for all!”

Mila’s eyes glossed over, and tears fell like the Niagara Falls. She started for the bathroom, and Yasmin followed her. “Just—Just give me a minute.”

“But . . .” Veronica spoke up.

“But my sister is supposed to love me. We share the same blood, Veronica. I want Yasmin and Lido standing next to me when I marry Blake. I want my family there. That’s something that shouldn’t be necessary to ask!” Mila shouted. The room receded. The walls felt like they were damn near squeezing into her now. She stalked to the bathroom. Inside, she sat on the chaise lounge and laid her head on the table and began to cry. That’s a damn lie. I don’t want her in my wedding anymore. I don’t want anything to do with . . . my blood. But who says shit like that!