I nod, stepping back and closing the door, as Jeannine makes her way down the hall toward the staircase.
Sighing, I head into the bathroom with my mind on the upcoming nuptials. I don’t want to go, but when your mother gets married, your attendance is expected. Frustration blooms in my chest. I wish I could go live with my aunt. She’s, at least, someone who I can get along with. Someone who I can talk to; whereas, my mother is more focused on her career and making headlines.
Marcia and Mallory are sisters, but they couldn’t be more different. Even though they came from the same womb, three years apart; Mallory, my aunt, is a gentle, affectionate woman. My mother, on the other hand, is cold, aloof, and hates being a mom.
Time to get ready. Time to see just what this new man I’ve never met has in store for us because my mother agreed to marry him before I even had the chance to come face to face with Bradford Thorne.
The church is massive, filled with guests, people I’ve never met. My nerves are shot. I hate being in the public eye, and I honestly wish my mother had chosen a more intimate event. All my life, I’ve struggled with anxiety, especially in crowds like this, but Marcia always enjoyed pushing me outside my comfort zone; hence the scars I bear that nobody will ever see.
The man sitting at the large organ starts playing a song I don’t recognize, and the doors slide open. I’m standing at the altar beside the priest. Opposite me are two boys; well, men actually, but they can’t be older than twenty-five. They’re gorgeous, and I can’t stop myself from sneaking peeks at them. My new stepbrothers.
We haven’t officially met but I know, soon enough, I’ll be thrust into a family where I will have three older brothers. Which has my mind wandering to where the third son of my mother’s new husband could be. Perhaps he’s as against this wedding as I am, and he won’t show up.
My mother slowly moves down the aisle, gliding as if she were floating on air. Her smile is pristine and perfect, and I wonder how real it is. Bradford looks absolutely smitten with her, as he watches her walk toward him, and when she finally reaches us, he leans down to kiss her cheek. A chaste kiss.
Mother hands me her bouquet, and I’m thankful to have something else to focus on, other than the eyes that are now on us at the front of the church.
“Welcome guests; today, we celebrate the union of Bradford Jeremiah Thorne and Marcia Anne Ellington.” The priest’s voice filters into the background as I glance up, and in the darkness of the church, right at the back, behind all the people, I see a dark figure. I can’t make out his face, and I certainly can’t see if he’s in a suit or not, but my gut tells me that I’m looking at the eldest son of Bradford Thorne.
Deep down, I wonder why he’s hiding, why he’d come to the ceremony, only to watch from the back. I blink, and when I open my eyes once more, he’s gone.
2
Damien
The shitty LA air is stifling. I want to go back home to Thorne Haven. It’s the only place I feel myself. Where I can allow myself to indulge in the silence that the city doesn’t offer. Even though I know he’s happy, something doesn’t sit right with me. The woman he’s vowing his life to is a fucking gold digger, and no matter how much I try to tell him the truth, he doesn’t want to listen.
When he first told me he was getting married, I admit, I threw a shitfit. The rage I felt was nothing compared to that of my mother’s, when she walked out on us, leaving her husband and sons behind.
I watched her breakdown.
The volatile relationship they had was nothing short of a hurricane tearing through the house, leaving only destruction in its wake. At twenty-seven, I shouldn’t even be bothered with what my father is doing, but what he doesn’t know is I’ve looked into this new wife of his.
She’s nothing more than a Botox filled plastic doll that he’s marrying to make himself look good. She’s in the public eye twenty-four-seven, and I know she loves it. I’ve seen the photos online. What I don’t understand, though, is what her daughter does. Granted, she only just turned eighteen, but I’ve not seen her in the photos I found of her mother.
And that is why my gut is churning with anxiety, and my mind whirling with questions.
When I pull into the parking lot of the hotel, I kill the engine of my raven-black Camaro and slide out of the driver’s seat. My phone is already buzzing, and I know it’s one of my brothers. They were both standing at the fucking altar, smiling at Dad, as he kissed his bride, but they didn’t know I was there. I didn’t want anyone to know, and then the girl looked at me.