Chapter 93 — The Family Dinner

Claire

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Fingers trembling, I hastily gathered my hair into a tight knot. Frustration etched on my face, I sighed and released the captive strands, deciding to weave curls into them. Perhaps curling first and then attempting an updo would make me appear more presentable.

Nearly forty-five minutes deep into curling, and I thought I had it nailed. But the moment I tried pulling off an updo, my hair turned into a rebellious mess, refusing to cooperate.

Argh! Frustration level: through the roof.

My eye makeup might have gone a tad overboard, a bit too strong, which is probably why I'm feeling a bit less than decent if that's even a thing.

I snatched a makeup wipe, fingers fumbling in my rush to erase the painted layers from my face. As I glanced at the dresser, there it sat—a glass of juice, Vincenzo's thoughtful gesture. Anticipation mixed with anxiety, I reached for it. But in the clumsy dance of my nervous hands, disaster struck. The glass tipped, juice escaping in a rapid d