Chapter 8
Vibrant orchestral music filtered through the speakers, serenading my sister, Josie, and I as we sat on the leather couch, grasping a champagne flute each. I could think of much better places to be than watching my mother try on mother-of-the-bride outfits at some swanky bridal shop serving cheap champagne. But it was better than being at the café for Nick’s first morning. Dad could handle him. I took another sip, not sure if drinking this early was a good thing either, but it was five o’clock somewhere, right?
‘It’s not that great, is it?’ said Josie, her face looking like she’d sucked a lemon.
‘It tastes like dirty socks,’ I whispered.
Josie almost spat out her mouthful trying to suppress her laughter.
Just then, Mum stepped out of the change room in the latest outfit. Thi
