Honeymoon Pictures

I didn’t go to Emerson’s bedroom last night after he told me about the family dinner. I don’t know if he was expecting me or not, but I was too hyped. I had too many thoughts working overtime in my head, and the night seemed too heavy to go to him. Instead, I spent the night alone, letting the anticipation build.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, I could feel the excitement running through me. The white dress I wore hugged all the right places, accentuating my curves in ways I didn’t usually allow myself to see. My hair was freshly done and styled to perfection, and my makeup was flawless, highlighting my eyes and lips, and making me look like a model I never had the chance to be.

It was 7:30, time to head downstairs. I wasn’t just going down there as a guest—I was going down as the host I was born to be, ready to meet my ex, now married to my sister. I wasn’t sure what to call someone who you were related to but didn’t really want to be related to. The whole thing felt twisted, a