Chapter Thirty-Four
“Arthur!” Renata’s voice was a harsh rasp in his ear. “Arthur, how dare you bring her here knowing she’d behave like this?”
Alarm bells went off in his head—what the hell was Renata talking about? Couldn’t be Saoirse. She’d been nursing her flute of champagne last she’d been by his side, and then she’d been dragged off by a friend of her mother’s to meet her son.
Which had been awkward. It wasn’t as though Arthur was concerned that Saoirse would meet this recent b-school grad, fall in love with the fratty dudebro and leave him, but it wasn’t nice to be in a space where no one recognized your relationship. Though this all would’ve gone far worse if Renata had found out somehow. He was not looking forward to looking that bear in the face.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Of course the woman couldn’t answer him in words. No, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the next room and stabbed a nail through the air toward the bar.
There was Saoirse in her pretty dress at the corner of the bar and surrounded by a group of people. That in itself was unusual since she didn’t generally enjoy being the center of attention. Except his. Yes, Saoirse seemed to enjoy being the center of his universe just fine.
At the moment though, she was making big gestures and laughing raucously and…touching people.
Eagerly pressing her cheek against other people’s to pose for selfies, draping herself over a man’s shoulder to speak into his ear. Dancing with a woman in a way that went beyond suggestive. It was a lot to process and Arthur’s mind raced.
First, though, he had to defuse the Renata-bomb that was about to go off.
“She’s not causing a scene, Renata. It looks to me like a young woman having fun and enjoying being the center of attention.”
Which wouldn’t soothe what he imagined to be Renata’s real concern—not that her daughter might be dangerously intoxicated, but that she was stealing the spotlight, a spotlight that rightfully belonged to Renata.
Before his ex-wife could reply, Arthur cut her off. “I think you’re overreacting but I’ll go speak to Saoirse. If she has actually had too much to drink, I’ll take her home.”
“Get her out of here. I won’t have her ruining my night.”
Not that he’d expect anything else from Renata, but she hadn’t even said “our night,” as in hers and David’s. Hers, hers, always hers. Even when they’d had a high school graduation party for Saoirse, Renata had somehow made it more about her than her daughter’s biggest accomplishment thus far.
And reacting to Saoirse possibly having had one too many with irritation about her causing a scene instead of being concerned because she’d been doing so, so well… Yes, that was Renata Sullivan in a nutshell.
Arthur sketched a sarcastic salute at Renata before making his way through the crowded room toward where Saoirse was holding court.
No, he thought as he wended his way through dressed-up party guests.There was no way Saoirse would be drunk. Not after all the work they had done and definitely not here.
A tiny voice in the back of his brain told Arthur that maybe it was true—maybe she’d just thrown it all away and maybe she needed more help than he’d thought. Maybe Renata and Nikolina had been right and Saoirse really did need to go to rehab. It was a devastating thought.
Not because he thought he could solve all the world’s problems—no one could—but because…he loved her, desperately, and it hurt to think he’d failed her so badly. That he’d allowed his own selfish wants to come between his sweet little girl and what she really needed.
Except that as he got closer and could see her face more clearly, Saoirse didn’t just seem drunk. There was something off about her intoxication. The girl could handle her liquor and that wouldn’t have worn off in a couple of months. No, there was definitely more than that going on here.
“Saoirse.”
She turned to him but Arthur wasn’t confident she was actually seeing him. His darling, lively princess looked almost blank with a veneer of a good time plastered over her expression. That was simply wrong.
Not caring that it was rude as hell, he inserted himself between Saoirse and her admirers, and ignoring their protests, managed to steer Saoirse toward a quieter corner so he could talk to her without having to shout and so Renata would calm the fuck down.
“Hey princess, do you feel okay? How much have you had to drink?”
“Just one, Daddy. Just like you said.”
She smiled at him, reached out and set her forearm on his shoulder before she slumped against him and started rubbing her head into his chest. Yes, she was an affectionate little kitten when they were alone together, but she would never act like this in public. Certainly not in front of her mother.
Not to mention, she wouldn’t lie to him. Saoirse might not enjoy the consequences of bad behavior but she’d never tried to get out of a punishment by not telling him the truth.
If she’d only had one drink—and he’d seen her with a champagne flute and not say a Long Island iced tea or a boilermaker—why would she be acting like this? It came to him like a punch to the gut.
“Saoirse, I think someone might’ve put something in your drink. You’re not acting like yourself so I’m going to take you home and we’re going to call Doctor Eric to come check on you.”