by Anna Carey
“Cate!” Celeste cried, spotting her niece. In her cerulean Zac Posen dress, fresh off her second round of microdermabrasion, Celeste looked twenty-five. She grabbed Cate’s hand and pulled her into the kitchen, pointing at the garden through the atrium’s huge windows. “You, my dear, are absolutely amazing. Your father is going to be thrilled.” The garden was packed with guests, downing their last drinks before the ceremony began. Greta, who always attended Cate’s plays when Winston couldn’t, was standing by the buffet, taste-testing the baby lamb chops.
“I know, it’s—” Cate stopped, feeling like someone had shoved an hors d’oeuvre down her throat. Outside, Stella was standing by the bar…wearing Cate’s dress. Cate could have spotted the embroidered yellow fabric out of three hundred racks at Barneys. “I’ll be right back,” she muttered.
She walked toward the door, watching as Stella sidled up to the bar and ordered a drink. Cate’s mind raced. Maybe Stella had known Cate was going to wear it. Maybe she had seen it in her closet and gone out and bought it herself. It was from last season, though—one of the few pieces Cate still wore.
Stella was so busy squeezing lime into her Diet Coke, she didn’t even notice Cate next to her.
The bartender, a hipster with a handlebar moustache, shook a silver cocktail shaker like a maraca. “You guys look like twins,” he said. Stella turned and looked Cate up and down, her face a little pale.
“Nice dress,” Cate said. Then she looked Stella in the eyes, her lips curling into a smile.
“You too,” Stella said softly. “Though I have to say—” Stella pressed one finger into Cate’s arm, “—you look a little pale. Think we have time for a quick spray tan?”
“If I have to be bossed around this year by a burnt sienna crayon,” Cate laughed, “at least I’ll be in good company.”
“Do you think maybe…” Stella began but trailed off.
“What?”
“Maybe we’re better off on our own?” She raised a blond eyebrow. “Chi Sigma?”
Slowly, Cate nodded. “That could work.”
EVER AFTER
Andie stood next to Cate, Lola, and Stella, gripping the stem of her rose bouquet tightly. Emma and Winston were holding hands under the flowered archway, reciting the last of their wedding vows. Andie had been so excited when her dad and Emma stepped into the garden, slowly taking in the band on the terrace, the round tables covered in crisp pale green linens, the vases overflowing with orchids. Emma had started crying when she spotted her brother Simon, and Winston had declared it was better than the wedding Gloria had planned at the boathouse. Emma had even changed into her Vera Wang wedding dress for the ceremony, and Winston wore his tux.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Judge Haines said, clasping his hands together. “You may kiss the bride.”
Winston grinned mischievously. He dipped Emma and gave her a dramatic kiss on the lips. Emma let out a laugh and smacked him playfully on his jacket lapel. The guests, who had gathered around the archway, clapped. Greta turned the dial on her disposable camera with great effort, while Tatiana Petrov, the supermodel, pressed blotting paper to her dewy face.
Andie heard a sniffling sound and turned to Cate, who was dabbing at her eyes with the tip of her finger. “Are you crying?” Andie whispered. She smiled, satisfied. Any ceremony that could make Cate cry was a complete success.
“Definitely not,” Cate whispered back, turning away. Maybe she was crying, but she’d rather spend every Friday night playing with Sophie’s Barbies than admit that she was moved by her father’s wedding—the same wedding that a day ago she’d hoped would never happen. Emma and Winston were facing the crowd of guests, their hands raised as though they were doing a curtain call on Broadway. Cate turned the sapphire ring around on her finger. Emma would never be her mother, but she really loved Cate’s dad. And for now, that seemed like enough.
The band started playing classical music as the guests dispersed, milling about the garden. A few of Winston’s old friends from Yale sat down by the bar, their table exploding in laughter every now and then. Emma’s mother was sipping a dirty martini and talking loudly to her son Simon and his wife, a curvy woman in a magenta Valentino dress.
Emma lifted the hem of her mermaid gown and pulled Winston over to the girls. “Luvvies,” she cooed, kissing Lola and Stella on the cheek.
Winston smoothed back Andie’s bangs and wrapped Cate in a hug. “Thank you for this.” He stepped back to take in the girls.
Lola threw her long arms around Winston’s neck and stumbled into him. “Cheers, Winston!” she cried. Winston slowly hugged her back, a little surprised.
“Cheers, Lola,” he said, a smile breaking across his face. Next Lola hugged Stella, who couldn’t help but laugh. Lola was like an excited puppy, running around and smothering everyone in messy kisses.
“Congratulations,” Stella said, kissing Winston on each cheek. Cate and Andie took turns hugging Emma, as the photographer, a woman in a man’s gray suit, knelt down in front of them and snapped a few pictures.
“That is one fabulous-looking family!” she cried. “Now let’s have all of you under the archway.” She shooed them backward with one hand.
“Yes!” Lola cried, bouncing up and down on her heels. “Our first family picture!”
Stella glanced at Cate, waiting for her to roll her eyes, but she didn’t. Emma and Winston beamed. Together, she and Cate struck their best poses for the camera.
Andie turned to Lola. “Ready…sis?” she asked, a smile creeping over her face.
Lola looked around the garden, at the guests picking appetizers off silver trays. The lead singer of the band had started a more lively song, and one of Winston’s Yale friends pulled Greta over to swing dance, spinning her around twice.
“Absolutely,” she said, grabbing Andie’s arm, and they squeezed in next to their sisters.
EPILOGUE
And they all lived happily ever after. Or not.
The Sloane Sisters maybe be BFFs right now, but at the stroke of midnight, everything can change. After all, it hard to be sisters…and even harder to be friends.
And let’s be honest—a fairy-tale ending? Where’s the fun in that?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, a huge thank you to the good people of Alloy Entertainment: The hilarious Josh Bank, a.k.a. Sheila Beers, who has been known to spontaneously channel many of the characters in this series. Sara Shandler, for her sharp editorial insights and, most importantly, for believing. To the fiercely smart Joelle Hobeika, for her enthusiasm, good humor, and reassurance. And to Lanie Davis, for making the connection that started it all.
I’m indebted to Farrin Jacobs and Zareen Jaffery at HarperCollins for their editorial notes and their enthusiasm for this series. A big hug and thank you to Kate Lee for making my life five thousand times easier.
I’m incredibly fortunate to have such supportive friends, who listened to me and encouraged me every step of this process. Many of them appear in these pages in different incarnations, and this book simply would not have been possible without them. Last but not least, thank you to my brother, Kevin, and my parents Tom and Elaine, three people who make those words—thank you—seem like a cheap imitation of all the gratitude I feel for them. I love you.
About the Author
ANNA CAREY graduated from New York University and has an MFA from Brooklyn College. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, where she is at work on her next Sloane Sisters novel. Visit Anna and the Sloane Sisters online at www.sloanesisters.com.
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Credits
Cover photograph © 2009 by Howard Huang
Cover design by Andrea C. Uva
Copyright
SLOANE SISTERS. Copyright © 2009 by Alloy Entertainment. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, n
on-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Adobe Digital Edition April 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-185852-9
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