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“Done,” she announces and I move to the mirror to check my reflection. Jewelry’s on. Hair’s done. Killer high heels I’ve had to negotiate for since school started are on my feet. I turn my attention to Chloe. She looks perfect, but she’s tugging at her dress in a way that betrays her discomfort.

“Stop fidgeting. You’re beautiful. Own it.”

She drops her hands and stands a little straighter, then darts a look in the mirror to verify what I’m saying. Chloe would happily do nothing but study and pad her college resume with volunteer projects if it weren’t for me forcing her to experience high school. She is beautiful, when she’s not hiding behind an oversized sweatshirt and a stack of textbooks. Her hair is almost red, but not quite—too much brown intermixed to make her truly a redhead—but she’s got a sprinkling of freckles, true to her Irish heritage.

“Let’s go downstairs and wait for Tim and Dave. They should be here any second and Mom will want a million pictures.” I check my clutch to make sure my lipstick is still there. Then I check Chloe’s for her because she’d never think to put it there in the first place.

We’re on the bottom step when I hear him. Finn Camden is here. My heart pounds and I pause abruptly in the foyer, causing Chloe to bump into me. I haven’t seen Finn in two years. Not since the summer after he graduated from college. I couldn’t have planned this better if I’d tried, and believe me, I’ve tried. There’s no way he can’t notice me looking like this. Notice me. Like I’m a woman, not a little kid. Not Eric’s little sister.

“Who the hell allowed you to get those shoes?” Eric emerges from the basement stairwell carrying one of the chairs to an old dining set that’s been taking up space in the basement ever since Mom replaced ours a few years ago.

Finn appears a moment later with a matching chair. His hair is tousled and he’s got the hint of a summer tan left. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a gray t-shirt and I try to ogle as much as I can with my brother standing right next to him. I take a mental picture so I can write down every detail of this encounter in my diary later.

“Shortcake!” He smiles at me and I wait for it. For that flash of recognition to cross his face. The one that says I’m not a child anymore. The one that says he finds me attractive. The one I’ve been waiting for my entire life. But I get… nothing. Just the same friendly grin I’ve gotten my whole life.

“Dad, are you letting her leave the house in those shoes?”

Dad has just emerged from the basement with a third chair and Eric doesn’t waste a second letting his opinion on my footwear be known. Thank God he never moved back in after college. I’d have died a virgin. He’s more protective than both of our parents combined.