“Just like the rest of the Morelli clan.” Winston’s lips tip up in a barely there smile. “You and the wifey good?”
“Wifey?” I raise a brow, sending a quick glance in Charlotte’s direction before I return my attention to my brother. “We’re all right.”
“You seemed pissed at the altar.”
“Felt a little tense. Not gonna lie.” My expression turns grim. I can literally feel it transform. “Didn’t help, what happened earlier this morning.”
“Hey. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. About your wife and—McTiernan,” Winston says, genuine sympathy in his gaze.
I shrug a shoulder, trying to act like it’s no big deal, but I’m still pissed. And surprised my brother would apologize. That’s not like him. “It’s whatever. I’m still stuck on the fact that he magically appeared. His timing is just…too close to our wedding. She sees him literally the morning of the day we’re getting married? How coincidental is that?”
“I’ll do a little digging,” Winston says, his expression turning thoughtful. “See what I can come up with in regards to this Seamus asshole. Look into his professional and personal life.”
“I’d appreciate it.” Relief hits me. As does the realization that I’m very, very grateful for my brother and his shady-ass skillset right now. “You’ll report back to me as soon as you know?”
“Aren’t you going on a honeymoon?”
I shake my head. “We didn’t plan anything.”
“Oh. Right.” Winston smothers the smile that’s trying to appear with a swipe of his hand. “Okay. That’s unfortunate.”
Huh. I think he’s hiding something, but I’m not questioning it.
Chapter Five
Charlotte
I’m drunk.
Drunk at my own wedding reception. Basking in the love and attention that’s being thrust upon me. Our guests’ words of congratulations fill me with a fizzy happiness that reminds me of the bubbles in my champagne glass. Their admiring tone when they compliment my dress, my hair, my flowers, makes me smile uncontrollably. I’m happy.
Legitimately happy for what feels like the first time in a while.
Or maybe it’s all the alcohol I’m consuming. Nonstop champagne. I can’t stop drinking it. I tried to eat earlier but my stomach cramped, and I felt too nervous. The vibe my husband is giving off is…
Unsettling.
He’s not happy and I don’t know exactly why. He’s also acting closed off, and I wonder what I did to make him angry. We haven’t been able to talk about my seeing Seamus this morning, and I’m sure that has something to do with his shift in mood.
I try not to let it bother me.
After the speeches were given—one by my mother who started crying in the middle of it and made me cry, and the other from Winston who said wonderful and sometimes vulgar things about his brother—I moved from table to table, trying to speak with everyone I know. I visited with my cousins. Whit was there with his fiancée, Summer, and they’re blissfully in love. He keeps a hand on her at all times, as if he never wants to stop touching her.
I wonder what that’s like, experiencing a love like that. Having a man so enraptured with you, he doesn’t ever want you out of his sight.
I chat with Whit’s sisters Sylvie and Carolina. They’re both beautiful, with similar features and the Lancaster icy blue eyes, the both of them bright blonde like me. We could all pass as sisters, we look so much alike.
But I’m nothing like them. Not really. Sylvie is manic, her pupils large, her mannerisms unusual. She used to be obsessed with death, which scared me when I was younger. Carolina is more reserved and doesn’t say much. I’ve always felt as if we have more in common than any of my other cousins.
“Hey.”
I turn to find my younger brother, Crew, standing in front of me, handsome in his tux and looking so grown up. He just turned eighteen only last month and there’s always this undercurrent of tension running through him, just beneath his skin. As if he’s pissed at the world and wants to take all of his anger out on it.
Which I suppose I can’t blame him. It seems to be a toxic trait among Lancaster men—their anger. They all have it. Every generation. My father and uncles, they’re all mad as hell. Whit used to be a nightmare, until eventually his wife calmed him down some. Grant was terrible, though he seems a tad sweeter now thanks to his girlfriend, Alyssa.
Only a tad though.
“Hi.” I smile and practically throw myself at Crew, closing my eyes and pressing my cheek to the lapel of his jacket when he gives me a lingering squeeze. We are not an affectionate family either, but Crew and I were close when we were younger. I considered him my best friend at one point, though I never knew exactly how he felt about me.