Lily and the Wedding Date Mistake Read online

  Seven Steps

  Copyright © 2019 by Seven Steps

  All rights reserved by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is wholly coincidental.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, recording, by information storage and retrieval or photocopied, without permission in writing from Seven Steps.

  Edited by Emily Lawrence

  Proudly Published in the United States of America

  Created with Vellum

  Also By

  St. Mary’s Academy Series (Clean YA Romance)

  The Boyfriend Agreement (Book I)

  Chasing Mermaids (Book 2)

  The Golden Boy (Book 3)

  Stealing Hearts (Book 4)

  The Secret Lives of Princesses (Book 5)

  The Trouble With Kissing Frogs (Book 6)

  Rebels, Love Letters, and the Secret Crush (Book 7)

  Clean New Adult Romance

  The Last Rock King

  Clean Adult Contemporary Romance

  Peace in the Storm

  Clean Historical Western Romance

  Adam’s Bride

  A Touch of Grace

  Clean Sci-Fi Romance

  Venus Rising

  The Escape

  Fire In The Sky

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

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  Also By

  Let’s Connect

  1

  “Keep that torture device away from me!”

  I backed myself into the corner of my room while my sister, Rose, approached me like I was an angry lioness ready to strike.

  Honestly, I kind of was.

  “Lily, you have to put it on.”

  I glared at the push-up bra she thrust in my direction. “No way!”

  I’d only worn a push-up bra once in my life. It was at my parents’ anniversary party last year. I dealt with the poking and tightness through the appetizers and main course and was so irritated that I tossed it in the trash before dessert. Rose was furious. Understandable, seeing as it was her bra.

  My sister sighed, still holding the padded atrocity out to me. “Come on, Lily. Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘beauty is pain’?”

  I switched my glare from the bra to Rose. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression, ‘If you try to put that thing on me, I’ll bite you’?”

  Rose crossed her arms and gave me a stern look. “Lily Bell.”

  Uh-oh. I knew that look. Rose was at the end of her patience. I could see it in her fiery blue eyes. But I would not be persuaded. Rose may have wanted her boobs to touch her throat, but I surely didn’t.

  I pushed my glasses farther up my nose and eased out the corner, ready to run back to the safety of my bedroom.

  Rose’s room was the embodiment of her personality. A princess-y four-poster bed, pink everything, heart-shaped pillows, a million pictures of her and her friends tacked onto the wall, decorative notebooks stacked up to the sky, and a yoga mat rolled up in the corner. It was neat and orderly and clean. A far cry from my room down the hall.

  I rushed to the door in a last-ditch attempt to escape, but Rose, captain of the girl’s track team, was faster than I was. The second I got the door open, she slammed it shut with one hand and narrowed her gaze upon me.

  “You’re wearing the bra.”

  “Never.”

  Rose held up the bra to eye level. “Oh, you’re wearing it. And you’re going to let me do your hair and makeup. You’re even going to put on heels.”

  Heels? Ugh! Anything except heels. Those were even worse than the push-up bra.

  I decided to switch up my tactic.

  I thrust my bottom lip into a pout and gave her my best puppy dog eyes.

  “But heels are so uncomfortable!”

  “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to tell Mom and Dad that you and Calla snuck out at midnight last Thursday to go see that new Spiderman movie.”

  I gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, I would, because I’m your big sister and it’s my job to make sure you look stellar at this wedding. Even if that involves blackmail.”

  “First of all, being three minutes older doesn’t make you my big sister. And second”—I diverted my gaze, heat flooding my cheeks—“I don’t have to dress up. No one notices me anyway.”

  Especially when you’re around, I thought to myself.

  Rose touched my shoulder, her brows furrowed. “Don’t be silly. People notice you all the time.”

  I scoffed. “Like who?”

  She smiled and gave me a playful push. “Like me. I notice you. Especially when you’re being silly and stubborn, like right now.”

  I returned my gaze to Rose, taking in her perfectly round face. Her white teeth and expertly applied makeup. Her hair was still in rollers and she wore a pink, satin robe that did little to hide her flawless body. Rose was so completely perfect, and I was so… not.

  How could I be her identical twin sister and be so different from her? In theory we did look the same. We both had long blond hair and blue eyes. But, somehow, I always felt like the ugly twin. My hair wasn’t flowy and bouncy like hers. My blue eyes didn’t sparkle, especially not behind my glasses. My body was more flabby than toned. And, most importantly, she didn’t have to wear hideous braces. How could two people be so alike and, yet, so different?

  Rose’s voice was soft as she pulled me into a hug and rocked a bit. “You are beautiful,” she whispered. “When are you going to believe that?”

  I wrapped my arms around my sister, squeezing her tight. Hot tears burned the back of my throat at her words, but I sniffed them back. Rose always managed to see into the heart of things. Her keen nature was one of the reasons she chose to write for the school newspaper. She’d be a brilliant journalist one day. I just knew it.

  After a while, she pulled away, smiling at me again.

  She was definitely the “zest for life” twin. I was more of an “expect the worse” sort of girl.

  “Don’t worry about the bra,” she said, tossing it onto her bed. “But at least let me do your hair and makeup.”

  I sucked in a breath, my eyes growing wide.

  Rose was conceding? Rose never conceded. She always got her way. Always. I’d have to use this scared and pitiful act more often.

  “Hair and makeup are fine,” I said, feeling emboldened by my win. “But no red lipstick.”

  Rose’s brows squeezed together so tightly I feared they’d get
stuck that way. She looked as if I’d just insulted her.

  “No red lipstick? But it’s a formal occasion.”

  “And not too many bobby pins.”

  “How am I supposed to keep your updo in place?”

  “And no plucking my eyebrows.”

  “Now you’re pushing it.”

  I laughed. What’s that saying about giving a person an inch?

  “Those are my terms.”

  Rose put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at me. “I will forgo the red lipstick in favor of pink lip gloss, which must be reapplied hourly.”

  “Lip balm,” I said.

  “Bubble gum flavored lip gloss. Final offer.”

  “Deal.”

  “And you have to budge on the bobby pins.”

  “No bobby pins.”

  If I didn’t have to wear the bra of doom, then I definitely wasn’t going to have pins digging into my scalp all night.

  She huffed. “Fine. I’ll flat iron it. But I can’t guarantee minor burns won’t occur. I’m still quite emotional over the red lipstick.”

  I scoffed. I’d take the ear burns over bobby pins any day.

  “Accepted.”

  “But you have to let me pluck your eyebrows. I can’t allow my sister to walk around looking like there’s a hairy inchworm on her face.”

  “Don’t touch my eyebrows.”

  “I’ll ice them after every pluck.”

  “No deal.”

  “You can read one of your trashy romance novels while I pluck them.”

  “Na-ah.”

  “I will personally organize your book collection by author and title.”

  Now she was talking. “And write me a note that gets me out of gym class for the rest of the month?”

  She rolled her eyes. Rose hated that I didn’t commit to staying in shape like she did.

  “Fine. But you’re wearing heels. And no ice for the eyebrows.”

  We shook on it, and a few minutes later, I pulled on my robe and allowed Rose to beautify me like only she could. I was tweezed, contoured, flat ironed, and forced into low heeled sling backs all to the sounds of bubbly pop music. Finally, after what felt like forever, Rose grinned at me, then pulled out her phone.

  “What are you do—” Before I could finish my question, she’d already snapped a picture and uploaded it to one of the dozens of social media sites she was always on.

  Great. Just what I needed. I was already at the bottom of the social totem pole at school. I didn’t need thousands of Rose’s friends and followers judging me online too.

  “You don’t have my permission to post that,” I said.

  She snorted. “We share DNA. My permission is your permission.”

  “Is that something you learned writing for the newspaper?”

  “Maybe. Besides, you look gorgeous. I have to say, I’d make an awesome fairy godmother.”

  She held out her phone to me, and I reluctantly looked at the small screen.

  Rose may have thought the picture was gorgeous, but all I saw were my imperfections.

  Little spots of acne that makeup couldn’t hide. The way the dress crinkled over my bloated stomach from all the junk food I consumed on a daily basis. The braces peeking out from my open mouth. My foggy glasses. Looking between my photo and Rose was like looking at a before and after picture, with me being the before.

  I handed her back the phone.

  “I’ll meet you downstairs,” I said, turning away so she didn’t see the sadness that turned my spirit so heavy whenever I thought about how different I was from her.

  Putting on a brave face, I headed downstairs to wait for Rose to finish getting dressed.

  Light from the television lit the dark living room.

  “Look at my little p… p… p… ACHOO!” The tissue in front of Dad’s face fluttered with the force of his sneeze.

  “He meant to say princesses,” Mom said, tucking herself deeper into the blue and white stripped quilt.

  My mom, Rainbow McAlister, came down with the flu four days ago. Three days ago, my dad, George McAlister also came down with the flu. Needless to say, neither of my parents would be attending my aunt Gina’s wedding tonight.

  I put my hand on Dad’s forehead. “Still warm,” I said.

  I repeated the same motion for Mom. “You too. Did you take the Tylenol I left out?”

  “Yes, Dr. Lily,” Dad said.

  “Good. Drinking plenty of water?”

  “Yes, Dr. Lily.”

  I gave him a narrow stare, then retreated to the kitchen to warm up the soup I’d made this afternoon.

  I’d been my parents’ doctor since their first sniffle. It may sound weird, but I really liked it. Taking care of people was always my thing. Growing up, I pretended that my stuffed animals had boo-boos and taught myself to apply bandages and ointment. I’d memorized most of my mother’s Big Book of Home Remedies by the time I was ten, and, when I wasn’t reading, I watched every doctor’s show on television that I could. Especially Gray’s Anatomy. I preferred the earlier seasons, particularly because I was a McDreamy fan.

  While my sister planned on becoming a famous journalist, my dream was to become Lily McAlister MD. I wanted to travel all over the world with Doctors Without Borders, healing people on every continent.

  And I’d never have to wear a push-up bra, or heels, ever again.

  “Lily, we have to go,” Rose called from the living room. “And if you smell like soup, I’m spraying you down with air freshener.”

  “Be there in a sec,” I called back.

  I spooned out the rest of the soup into two bowls, grabbed a pack of crackers and some flat bread from the top of the fridge, and walked back into the living room.

  “Careful. It’s hot,” I said, placing each bowl on a side table next to each parent.

  “Extra pepper in mine?” Mom asked.

  “Extra pepper and garlic salt. And here’s your flat bread.” I placed the bread on the table and handed my dad the remote.

  Mom and Dad looked so pitiful that my heart squeezed.

  “You two think you can survive the night without me?” I asked.

  Mom smiled, then took a small bite of her flat bread.

  “Somehow we’ll manage,” she said.

  I kissed my fingertips, then place them on my parents’ hot heads.

  “Just relax. We’ll be back soon.”

  “You’re going to make a great doctor one day, Lily Bell,” Mom said.

  “And as your doctor, my advice is for both of you to get your flu shots next year.”

  They both groaned. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

  I did a quick cleanup of all the tissues scattered around the floor and table, placed a fresh trash bag next to them, replaced their facial tissue boxes, and went back in the kitchen to wash my hands.

  “Is that Beckett?” Rose asked.

  I quickly washed and dried my hands, then walked back into the dark room in time to see Rose standing in the doorway, smiling at the television screen.

  Beckett? It was a name I’d thought about often, though I hadn’t heard it on my sister’s lips in years.

  I followed Rose’s gaze to the television screen and gasped.

  An old home movie of me and my best friend Beckett Hayes played before me, catapulting me back to simpler times.

  In that moment, I was nine years old again, pretending to be a princess while Beckett was the red Power Ranger, defending me from dragons and monsters. Becks and I were more than just best friends. Where I began, Beckett ended. That’s just the way we were. He and I defined the word inseparable.

  I watched Beckett put his arm around me and smile for the camera. I still remember his smell. A mix of sweet grass, rich dirt, and the woods after a rainstorm. I used to believe I’d grow old with Beckett Hayes. And then, it ended. Suddenly. Brutally.

  As it turns out, forever isn’t as long as I thought.

>   “You two were so a… ador… ACHOO.”

  Rose groaned. “Ugh. Dad. Gross. Lily, let’s get out of here before we all catch the bubonic plague.”

  “Actually,” I said. “The bubonic plague is closer to Ebola than the flu.”

  “Whatever. Let’s just get out of here.”

  “Fine.”

  I pushed off the couch.

  “We’ll be back soon,” I called over my shoulder.

  “Tell Gina we said congrats,” Mom replied.

  Rose grabbed our gift bag from the table by the door. It was a knife set. Aunt Gina loved to cook. Hopefully, she’d have us over for her famous Penne alla Vodka one day soon.

  I held the door open and allowed Rose to walk out ahead of me.

  This night was supposed to be a night to celebrate love.

  Kind of depressing for a single girl like me. But I forced myself to think positive. Summer was just beginning, and everything seemed so full of possibilities. Plus, it was a gorgeous night. The salty air of the Atlantic Ocean tickled my nose. The stars twinkled and shimmered like diamonds in the sky.

  It was almost magical.

  And who knew what magical nights like this could bring.

  Especially in Bloom, New York.

  2

  It’d been an hour since Aunt Gina had married Brian Cunningham in a familial but beautiful ceremony.

  Gina was my dad’s sister, and this was her fourth marriage. Which meant she was an expert on throwing the perfect wedding reception. Silk draped the ceiling and cascaded down the walls, interspersed with tea lights and tall lilacs in white vases. More lilacs and baby’s breaths made up the centerpieces and were tied to the backs of our chairs, filling the room with a sweet scent. Bloom Florist, my parents’ floral business, provided all the flowers for the event, as they had for the three weddings before.