“Don’t even try it,” I say, furious. “You’re dead to me. Dead. I am now an only child.”
“What, again?”
“Now is not the time for you to get cute with me. Why did you even tell Liam about the party tonight? Why couldn’t you have kept your big mouth shut?”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m not sure who looks worse, you or Liam. Who left like a bat out of hell a couple of minutes ago and didn’t hear me calling him. Shirt wrinked. Dick barely tucked back into his pants, by the look of things.”
I wince.
It turns out that when you share a uterus with someone, you become so close that you can say anything to each other. That kind of connection can be a blessing at times and a curse at others. Like right now, when I’d rather keep my tragic foolishness to myself. But there’s no point in trying to hide it. Michael would know anyway. He always knows, often with little more than a glance.
“Michael. I don’t want to talk about—”
“Let’s go,” he says, taking my arm and leading me over to his vacated bench.
“I don’t have time for this now, Michael.”
“Sit.”
I sit, glumly and with great reluctance.
He signals someone while my thoughts quietly spin out of control. The next thing I know, he passes me two shots of something—I assume it’s Patron—and clinks my first glass with his.
“To finishing up unfinished business,” he says, then tosses his back.
“I’m not drinking to that,” I say, scowling. “To new beginnings and bright futures.”
“Whatever you say,” he says, watching me down my own shot. “I take it your reunion went well?”
“Screw you.”
With that, I make quick work of the other shot.
He waits, one brow cocked, eminently patient. His calming presence is exactly what I need at this moment, which is probably why I keep reinstating him as a sibling even in the face of an unspeakable betrayal like the one he perpetrated tonight.
Besides, he was there from the beginning with Liam and me. He’s already up to speed on the situation. And I’m in so far over my head that I’m happy for a ride from any rickety rowboat that happens to pass my way.
“Did you think you should warn me that he might be here?”
“I’m not allowed to say his name in your presence,” he reminds me. “That’s been a rule for over a decade. Besides, I thought you were over him.”
So did I, I think grimly.
So.
Did.
I.
“It’s fine,” I say, waving my hand and deciding to try an offhand approach. Who knows? Maybe it’ll work. “I was, ah, surprised to see him. That’s all.”
He nods, saying nothing.
“I don’t know why he couldn’t have sent a text saying he’s back in town like a normal human being if he wanted to see me.”
“Then he wouldn’t be Liam. And there’d be fireworks whether he texted you or not.”
Well, that’s sadly true.
“The wedding I’ve got this weekend? It’s his sister.”
“Hmmm.”
A new wave of outrage hits me. “Jesus Christ, Michael. You knew about that, too? And you let me get blindsided twice? Whose side are you on?”
“He’s my best friend—”
“And I’m your twin sister. Does blood count for nothing around here?”
An easy shrug from Michael. “I’m on the side of happy people.”
“Well, you won’t find any of that around here,” I say with a bitter laugh.
“Not yet. But there could be. If you work some things out.”
“There’s nothing to work out,” I say, aghast. “You were there. You saw the ugly ending.”
“I also saw the happy beginning. And the happy couple of years in between.”
“That’s all over now. It’s been over.”
“Good point. I’m sure that’s why you were back in bed within an hour of seeing each other tonight.”
My cheeks flame hot enough to singe my eyebrows. “There may be some, ah, residual chemistry, but I don’t want to see his face again. And now we’ve got this wedding—”
“So don’t go. Simple.”
“What?”
“Don’t go. The dress is made, right? Hand it to the bride and wish her well. What does she need you for out in the Hamptons? I’m sure someone else can zip it up for her.”
“First of all, your knowledge of wedding dresses is appalling,” I say, flaring up. “Second, Ella and I are friends now. So I’ll be there as an invited guest and the designer. Liam Wilder is not going to drive me away. He doesn’t get to show up and disrupt everything about my life. I’m sure the estate is big enough for both of us to move comfortably without seeing each other.”
Michael gives me that unwavering look of his, a disquieting gleam of amusement in his eyes.
“If you happen to run into him—purely by accident—you should spend some time with him. Catch up.”
“And why would I want to do that?” I say, ignoring the unwelcome pang of interest at the thought of spending more time with Liam.
“You tell me. A lot of time has passed. He’s changed.”
Magic words to my weak female heart. Men like Liam don’t change. When in the history of life has a bad boy ever truly changed? Never. That’s when.
So it’s with some dismay that I feel my mouth opening and hear the words coming out.
“And how’s that, pray tell?”
“He’s all about his career—”
“That’s not a change,” I say, scoffing. If there was ever one thing that was true about Liam Wilder, it was that his career ambitions were the most important part of his life.
“—and he’s more settled. Less drinking. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s ready to settle down and have a family.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I say, giving his knee a condescending little pat. “And I’m sure that Jimmy Hoffa, Amelia Earhart and Sasquatch are all living quietly together in a house somewhere upstate. Are we done here? As important as this conversation about Liam Wilder is, I’d love to go home sometime soon.”
I hastily stand and smooth my skirt, trying hard to ignore the unwanted pang of longing in my chest and belly at the thought of Liam settling down and starting a family. As if that would ever happen. As if I would be part of such a happy domestic scene if it did.
But…
I have a guilty little secret, so I may as well confess it now.
I’ve kept track of Liam this whole time. I’m not a stalker, per se. I don’t follow him on social media, but we have friends in common, so I see and hear things. And I Google him every six months or so, usually late at night when I’m between would-be boyfriends and have had one glass of wine too many. I’ve noted his career progress and many accomplishments, none of which were a surprise, given how ambitious he’s always been. I’ve seen pictures of some of the women he’s dated over the years, all beautiful and accomplished. I’m sure any one of them would happily raise their hand if he called for a volunteer baby mama. One other thing that I’ve noticed? There haven’t been any women to speak of in the last year or more. Not that that proves anything other than that he’s smart enough to keep his personal life off social media.