“It’s not confirmed, by the way.” I scratched my jaw. “In answer to your question, I think she’s frightened of me.”
Savanah laughed. “Scared of you?” She thought about it for a moment. “Oh. Like that. You mean, she’s frightened you’ll break her heart?”
“Maybe.” I huffed. “She’s the one that ran off with another guy straight after pushing me away,” I muttered.
“Oh my god. She hurt you.” Savanah’s eyes widened, as though something unexpected had taken place.
“Let’s not talk about this.” I hated myself for opening that Pandora’s box. My sister loved talking about relationships. She could go on all day about it.
Suddenly, a jazz trio cranked up, and a couple of family friends swung by and gushed in incoherent babble common at these functions. They seemed to think my mother was a superbeing who breathed gold dust. I returned a well-practised, robotic smile, having adopted it from an early age, thanks to the endless functions I’d attended.
My mother called it networking. For me, it was tedious, and my neck and face always ached from smiling and nodding. But there I was, the dutiful son, doing what was expected, and at the end of the day, the resort would fill the spa with more guests.
After they walked off, Savanah turned to me. “Are you going to marry her?”
“I don’t fucking know.” My voice had a rough edge. I was sick of all this speculation. I just wanted to see my son.
It frightened me how hot-headed I’d become. I was unrecognisable even to myself. After my mother spoke to me about her encounter with Mirabel and seeing Cian, I sprang out of the hole I’d dug for myself—a bunker where I buried hard-to-process issues.
Adrenaline churned away in my gut. I’d lost my appetite, and I couldn’t sleep. This child had taken possession of my sanity. After my father’s death, I was like an onion unravelling. The outgoing, skip-through-life version of me had peeled away first, and the more layers I stripped, the grittier I got.
Declan placed his hand on my arm. “I’m sure you’ll sort this out.”
My mouth twitched into a weak smile.
He leaned in. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
A loud exhale made my chest rise and collapse. “Not more shit, please.”
He wore a troubled smile. “You know this family.”
“Does Savvie need to know?” My sister had baled up a man with a tattooed neck, dressed in a designer suit. He was probably a drug trafficker rubbing shoulders with old money to legitimise his ill-gained fortune.
“She’s likely to make a fuss. Let’s not spoil the day.”
My brow furrowed “Is it that bad?”
“I think so. Let’s get away from the crowd.”
Taking heavy strides, I followed him to a bench under an ancient willow.
I patted the thick trunk. “Glad they didn’t get rid of Wilfred.”
My brother laughed at our childhood name of the tree we’d once thought possessed magical powers. Especially when the sun flickered gold on its droopy branches. Whenever I visited that spot, a cascade of warm memories always drifted over me like an easy breeze on a summery day.
On the edge of the pond rested the little red boat we’d paddled about in as boys. Now, it housed moss and an ecosystem of moulds that only added to its decadent charm.
“Okay, so, what’s all this about?” I asked.
“Earlier on, while climbing the track to the cliffs, I spied Will with Bethany, hidden behind a tree.”
I frowned so hard, my head hurt. “Like kissing?”
He nodded.
“Did they see you?”
“No. I hurried off.”