Chapter 4
Creating our own luck involved hours of bickering, shopping, and primping. Our already low coffers—and my patience—were running on empty by the time Grace was done.
“Stop looking at the receipt.” My twin jerked up my chin none too gently. “Bastion is worth it.”
He was worth it. And it was disloyal of me to think that Grace had bought more than she needed to feed her own fashionista itch.
“We have to go,” I said instead of commenting on the clothes, shoes, and jewelry strewn across the bed Bastion wasn’t occupying. “The party started an hour ago.”
“And we’re planning on arriving fashionably late.”
Eventually, though, even Grace had to admit that there was very little left to be done to improve my appearance. The colored contacts she’d lent me made my eyes less startling, but
