His eyes shine as his face falls the tiniest bit. I had a feeling I knew what he was seeing. He was seeing my mother. He was seeing Lillian.
We’d always looked alike, but now with my blonde hair back the resemblance was undying.
A sense of calm took over me realizing I didn’t cringe at the thought of that. It was okay to look like someone. That didn’t mean I would end up like her. Hopeless and depressed. Disappearing after losing a man, no less.
I may be my mother’s daughter, but I was not her.
Clearing his throat, Abram blinks looking away. “I uh—forgot something in my office, I’ll meet you two in the limo,” he says, stepping past me, only to stop and turn back a moment later. The muscles in his cheeks ease on a deflated breath. “You look beautiful, sweetie.”
Then he was gone.
“I think you broke our dad,” Finn says, watching his retreating form. Those long strides were heavier than usual.
I catch him raising his hand to his mouth again before he disappears around the corner, and Finn might be right. Did I break Abram?
I’m not sure why but I felt a sentiment of sadness for him.
To lighten the mood, I hit him in the shoulder to which he laughs, grabbing at his arm in fake pain.
The rubber of his soles squeak along the floor as he does a cocky confident spin. “On a scale of one to ten—”
“—Seven.”
“Hey, you didn’t even let me finish,” he grumbles. His bottom lip jutting out in a pout.
“Fine, continue.” Rolling my eyes as I wave my hand aimlessly in the air. Encouraging him to go on.
Finn’s eyes empty, giving me a blunt look.
“On a scale of one to ten, how good do I look in my tux?” he asks, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, then a six,” I answer stone-faced.
His face drops and I burst out laughing. My cheeks are sore, and my face is hot by the time I calm down. Finn’s grin is tight, even though his eyes dance in amusement. Filled with silent glee.
I tug at his arm. “Come on, you have to admit it was funny.”
“Ha-ha, sister,” he probes mirthlessly. Face turning mischievous seconds later. “Now you owe me a dance.”
Now my face was the one falling into a frown.
He winks, tugging me along thinking I was unsettled, just not in the way he expected. A demur grin crosses my lips as we reach the limo waiting outside.
He called me sister.
forty-eight
Cole
Myfingersskimalongmy gold rimmed-champagne flute. Observing the finished product of limitless funds. This was it. The final farewell.
Everything top of the line. The highest-grade money could buy.
The ceilings were high. Overly lavish and domed. An imperial-style staircase behind me where all the guests waited to be announced. Money meant we were extra like that.
The tables were either lined in fine white silks or left exposed in a solid sheet of mirrored glass. A reflection dances off the hanging candles strung in clear crystal balls. Staggered around the room.
The items are nice, but they weren’t what drew the eye around the space. Hundreds of thousands of flowers interweaved throughout the ballroom. They were everywhere so seamlessly placed you’d thought they’d grown there. On every table, tray, and surface. Spiraling around columns, hanging off the balcony’s edge, some even set to look like the table’s leg.