CYNTHIA's P O V

‘‘Thank you, Vina…’’ I smiled at her as I watched her pick up the curling iron from my vanity and isolate a strand of my hair to wrap it around the steaming cylinder, while I applied a reddish liquid tint to my cheeks.

It was six o’clock in the evening, and mom’s birthday party was scheduled to start at seven. I didn’t want to be there on time because I obviously wanted to make an entrance for Jake. Now that he has revealed to me the truth about ...