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I’m not sure whether she’s asking me or Freddie, but as he looks around the place, I reply, “Fine. We went for a walk before heading here.”
A waiter goes past, making me do a double take at the familiarity of his features. It takes me a moment to shrug it off and put it down to all the events I’ve been too. After a while, the hired staff becomes memorable enough that you recognise them from function to function. Lowering the tray beside us, he offers Arabella a drink, even though it’s more than obvious she’s very pregnant.
“Thanks.” I take it from him instead.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asks me, looking amazed that I’m having a drink.
“Is Dad?”
“Mum says he is.”
“But?” The statement in her tone definitely hints at a but.
“He’s not himself, and I know that his friend is gone…it’s just that a lot has happened recently, and with everything…”
“You’re worried?”
Christopher wraps an arm around her, pulling away from the hushed conversation that he, Casper, and Freddie are having. “Worrying is your sister’s new hobby.”
“Only because I recognise the pattern. Something happens to destabilise us, like when Cassie got taken at the rave, or you getting shot at the law society gala,” she reminds him before looking at me. “Not to mention you almost getting crushed to death.”
“What’s that?” Freddie instantly tunes into our conversation.
Before he gets riled up, I nuzzle into his side. I’ve worked it out that the more contact there is between us when he gets into a haze, the easier it is to distract him or pull him from it. Especially over the last week with all the nightmares he’s had, I’m surprised he’s not a zombie right now because he’s barely managed to get a few hours of sleep a night.
“I was pointing out that there’s a pattern to this cycle we’re on.”
“What’s that?” Casper asks, scanning our surroundings much like Freddie was doing at the funeral.
Something isn’t right. Maybe I’ve missed a detail or development, or they’re onto something that they haven’t quite figured out yet.
Arabella’s about to reply when Fleur and Cassie join us, with Leo following behind them. I’m brushing Freddie’s hair back when I spot Laura watching us from the sidelines. Oddly, she’s standing on her own, looking alone, and although I know that she and Arabella don’t exactly see eye to eye, I wave her over. It seems wrong to let her grieve on her own. It doesn’t matter what’s happened between any of us, no one should go through loss alone.
“What’re you doing, nene?” Arabella asks as I gesture for Laura to come join us again while I sip my drink.
“Stop calling me that,” I snap at her because she only ever calls me baby in Portuguese when she wants to either tug on my heartstrings or remind me that she’s older and wiser. Our grandfather calls me nene either when he’s reprimanding me softly or coaxing me to see things his way, and she is the same.
“Why are you inviting her over?”
“That’s probably not the best idea you’ve had,” Fleur mutters.
“Why not?” I ask, looking between her and Arabella as I finish my drink. “Come on, she’s just lost her dad. It could’ve been us, and I for one would never want to deal with that alone.”
“Georgie has a point. She’s all on her own,” Cassie says, looking over her shoulder before she tells Leo, “Maybe if you called Laura over, she would come.”
“Just so you know, the two of you are far too nice.” Arabella rolls her eyes, but it’s obvious that she’s just being too proud to admit that she feels sorry for Laura too.
If there’s one thing I know of my sister, it’s that as much as she plays the hard-arse, she’s soft on the inside. It’s why she’ll make an amazing mother.
Laura ambles towards us on Leo’s invite. When she reaches us, she doesn’t push into our circle; instead, she stands outside of it. I budge closer to Freddie, making room for her. Unsurprisingly, Arabella does the same.
“How are you holding up?” she asks Laura.
“There’s a lot to take care of, so I’m managing…or I was until today. It seems so final now that he’s been buried. Thank you for coming, by the way—not that you had a choice, but…”
“I did.” I try to smile at her, even though her palpable pain threatens to pull me under. “I had a choice, and Fleur. She could’ve stayed home with Grace instead. We all had the choice to be somewhere else.”
“Georgina’s right,” Freddie tells her. “Duty or not, we still have a choice.”
