I don’t answer. Instead, I leave her, blindly walking away, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, in my blood. I push past people as they approach me with friendly smiles and a greeting on their tongue, ignoring them when they say my name. I don’t stop until I’m at the bar, ordering a whiskey neat, gulping it down the moment the bartender sets the glass in front of me.
“Well, well. Someone’s traumatized.”
That droll voice can belong to only one person.
Glancing to my right, I see Monty standing there, Cliff directly beside him. Two gorgeous, fashionable men who would make the perfect couple.
My matchmaking skills are on point, I swear.
“Sylvie. Sweetie. Are you all right?” Cliff frowns, taking a step toward me.
I request a refill from the bartender before I turn my attention to my date, who’s ditched me. “I’m—recovering.”
“From a conversation with Sylvia,” Monty adds, earning a sharp look from me. “I saw the two of you at the table just now.”
I take the refilled glass the bartender just set on the counter and sip from it, trying to control myself, but it’s hard. My hands are literally shaking, and the temptation to down the whiskey is strong. “I don’t know why I came to this wedding. I knew I would end up having to talk to her.”
“He’s your brother. Of course, you’d come. You love him. Would do anything for him,” Monty says, his voice gentle. His gaze, kind. He’s speaking the truth. I adore Whit. He’s protected me my entire life from his jerk friends and anyone else who might’ve been a threat, with the exception of our mother. “Have you had a chance to speak to Summer yet?”
“Not really.” I take another sip, hating how jittery I feel. Wishing I didn’t have to worry about Summer and Spence and my mother. I’m sure there are other people at this party tonight who hate me. Who I burned with a careless remark or malicious gossip. I was the worst.
I’m still not much better.
“Oh.” The disappointment in Monty’s voice is clear, and I hate myself. I disappoint everyone.
It’s as if I can’t help it.
Inhaling deeply, I blow out a long, slow breath. “Has Summer said anything to you about me?”
“Not today. She’s a little preoccupied,” he reminds me. “Truthfully? She hasn’t mentioned your name to me in a while.”
I don’t know if I should be bothered by that remark, or relieved. If she’s not talking about me, maybe Summer has forgiven me.
Or she’s not talking about me because I’m not worth her worry.
“It was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?” Cliff smiles brightly. It’s obvious he’s trying to change the subject and the mood, which I can appreciate. “Whit Lancaster is delicious.”
“Isn’t he? Oh, the man is divine.” Monty rests his hand on his chest as if he’s overcome. He’s always reacted this way toward my brother. His crush on Whit isn’t a secret.
I roll my eyes and give in, downing the rest of the liquor in one swallow. It leaves a fiery trail burning down my throat, settling warm and tingly in my stomach. “Stop salivating over my brother. He’s a married man now.”
“Summer is such a lucky woman,” Cliff says. “Look at how he watches her.”
We all turn to observe Whit and Summer sitting at their table, completely engrossed in each other. Whit’s gaze drops to Summer’s lips and he touches the corner of her mouth with just his fingertips, and I tear my gaze away from them. I feel like an intruder on their intimate moment.
He’s always looked at her like that. As if he’s completely fascinated and can’t quite figure her out.
“They’re in love,” Monty says with a wistful sigh. Have I ever heard him sound like that before? “They can’t get enough of each other.”
“It’s a beautiful thing to witness,” Cliff adds.
I turn away from them, requesting one more refill for the road from the bartender, who delivers it immediately. I leave my friends be, wandering the ballroom in search of a friendly face. There are a lot of Lancasters here, and plenty of distant relatives too—other branches of the family. Hundreds of people are in attendance, because when the oldest son of the oldest son gets married, you can bet that everyone who is anyone will be invited to the wedding.
On the other hand, my wedding was in a government building downtown on a cold and dreary winter day—a Wednesday. I wore a white tweed Chanel suit that belonged to my grandmother, and a funny little hat covered in white feathers, with white netting that hung over my eyes. My hair was pulled into a severe updo, not a strand out of place—I was trying to emulate my little sister now that I think back on it. I’m sure I looked ridiculous. I was also drunk and high on prescription pills—that was the only way I could go through with the ceremony.
I wouldn’t mind a pill or five right now, if I’m being honest with myself. The alcohol can only work so much.
“Sylvie.” Someone grabs my arm to stop me, and I turn to find my cousin Grant studying me, his gaze filled with concern. “How are you?”