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“Problems?” I lift my head and take a drink.
“I saw Bug jump in the pool, sweetie. Teenagers can be tough. Maybe you just need to talk with her. You know, woman to woman.”
I laugh. “She hates me, Mom. She’s not going to listen to a word I have to say.”
“She just needs reassurance that you aren’t taking her father away.”
As if to add insult to injury, the door swings open and Marti and Bug come through, laughing. It dies quickly when Bug sees me, however. She completely ignores me and goes to the spread of sweets, picking out a gooey cinnamon roll.
“You’re lucky you can eat that,” I joke. “You’d better enjoy it before you get older when every one of those will have you running an extra five miles.”
She stares daggers at me. “Are you calling me fat?”
“No. Of course not. That’s not what I meant at all.” I stumble over what to say that won’t have me putting my foot in my mouth. “Are you okay today? I was worried about you after you fell in the pool.”
“Why wouldyoube worried?”
“Well, for one, because I like you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
She studies me like I’m a freak. “Youlikeme?”
“Sure. What’s not to like?”
Her eyes roll. “Whatever.”
I have to do something to fix this. I have no idea what happened between her and Asher after they left the rehearsal dinner. Based on the look on his face when they were leaving, however, she might just be grounded for life. Something I’m sure she’s blamingmefor. And she should. Itismy fault. I caused whatever rift is now between them.
“Hey, how about I do your hair? I could curl it for you and then pin the front part up.” I pick up a piece of blue hair and hold it up against the back of her head. “Like this.”
She shrugs me off like my touch burned her. “Uh, no. Aunt Marti is going to do it.”
“Marti’s the bride. She has other things to worry about. Why not let me do it? It’ll be fun. I’m really good at doing hair. Ask anyone.” I stand up and hold out an arm in invitation. “Come on, Bug. We’ll stuff our faces with cinnamon rolls and put our hair in curlers.”
She doesn’t budge. “You’renotdoing my hair.”
“Why not? Give me one good reason.”
“Because you don’t know how to do it. You’re not my mom. You’re notanyone’smom, so you can’t possibly understand.”
Her words hit me right in the chest, piercing my heart and taking all the fight right out of me.
“And my name isDarla.” She stomps across the room heading for the bridal suite.
Mom and Marti stand nearby, having heard the entire exchange. Mom gives me the same empathetic look she gives me whenever I’m reminded that I’mnot anyone’s mom.
Marti looks horrified over her niece’s outburst. “Allie, I am so sorry. I’ll talk to her. She shouldn’t be that disrespectful.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I feel like I ran right into that one. I’m not sure what I was thinking trying to be her friend or whatever after what happened last night. Don’t be too hard on her, okay?”
“Give her some time. She’ll come around.”
“Will she?”
Marti takes a sip of her mimosa. “She’s just mad that Asher said she couldn’t go to the eighth-grade dance next week.”
Guilt crawls up my spine. “Oh, no. She must be devastated.”
“She’ll get over it.”