Lydia
"You look beautiful," I tell my mom on her wedding day.
I've just finished making her hair, and I meet her eyes in the mirror. She is sitting in front of me, our hands on her shoulder. Her dark hair is braided and decorated with white flowers, and her dress perfectly hugs her thin frame. She is gorgeous and already teary-eyed.
"I'm so happy, Lydia," she lifts her chin, meeting my eyes outside the mirror, and her bottom lip quivers. "To think I would be lucky enough to find love after your dad... I feel blessed, and I'm happy you seem to get along fine with Avery now."
Somehow, I manage to keep my smile, although heat travels up to my face at the mention of Avery.
I'm wearing a scarf right now since my stepbrother of an alpha drank from me this morning. He has stopped enjoying
