Page 82 of Trust Fund Baby

“Neither did I,” I admitted, forcing an easy smile into place.

Her gaze slid past me, scanning the crowd until it landed where mine had been moments earlier. She watched Roxie and Nate for a beat, sipping her champagne with practiced disinterest. Then, she finally spoke.

“She looks happy, doesn’t she?” Kirsten asked softly. The words weren’t sharp, but they still cut.

I swallowed hard, shifting my weight. “She does.”

“But not alight.”

My head snapped toward her. Kirsten was still watching Roxie, but I could see the downturn of her lips and the way her eyes softened with something like nostalgia.

“Whenever she was with you,” Kirsten went on, voice still quiet enough for passersby not to overhear, “she was … brighter. More herself. Confident enough to be the brightest spot in the room. I haven’t seen that look in a long time. Not since the time she left this house.”

For a moment, the rest of the party faded into silence around me. My throat closed, and my chest burned.

“She’s chased after and achieved everything she dreamed of when we were still in school together,” I told Kirsten, glancing in Roxie’s direction long enough to see her toss her head back and laugh heartily at something that Nate had said. “She’s everything she wanted to be. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t …” I trailed off, jaw clenching as I turned away from the couple across the room.

“Doesn’t what?” Kirsten asked, tilting her head just slightly, studying me like she could see straight through the Whittaker smile plastered on my face.

I swallowed, shifting my gaze back to Roxie. She was still with Nate, her hand grazing his arm as she leaned in to hear him over the swell of conversation. The sight of it was like a punch to the ribs.

“Doesn’t need me,” I muttered. The admission slipped out before I could stop it.

Kirsten hummed softly, a sound that held both disapproval and amusement. “Need has very little to do with love, Sebastian. You of all people should know that.”

Her words hung heavy between us, and when I turned my head, she was still watching me with that steady, assessing gaze of hers. Then she gave the faintest smile before touching my arm lightly.

“Careful,” she said. “Old ghosts have a way of becoming very present in this house around the holidays.”

With that, Kirsten drifted off into the crowd, leaving me standing there with my chest tight and my mind a mess.

I couldn’t breathe. Not here. Not surrounded by all of this. So, I ducked my head and pushed toward the tall French doors that led to the terrace.

The chilly night air hit me the second I stepped outside, sharp and bracing, but at least it was honest. I drew in a breath that burned in my lungs, reaching into my pocket for the silver cigar case I still carried. One vice. One crutch. I would allow myself this today.

I rolled the cigar between my fingers before striking a flame, cupping it against the December wind.

Smoke curled up into the night, a soft gray ribbon against the backdrop of glittering lights that clung to every tree and window of the estate. I exhaled slowly, pressing the heel of my hand against my chest like I could settle the storm there.

And then there was the faintest click of heels on stone behind me.

I froze, the cigar hovering near my lips. The déjà vu was strong, with memories of that very sound echoing in my mind from when I was sixteen and waiting for Roxie to join me out here after various parties her family had thrown.

“Sebastian.”

I turned to see Roxie standing in the doorway, framed by warm golden light spilling from the ballroom. Her emerald dress shimmered under the glow, her blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders.

She stepped out, letting the door close behind her. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The smoke curled between us, the silence thicker than anything I’d felt in years.

I finally found my voice. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

Her red lips curved into a small smile. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

31

Roxie

I hadn’t planned on following him outside. Honestly, I’d spent the last twenty minutes convincing myself that pretending he wasn’t there would be the better idea. But then I’d seen him slip through the crowd, shoulders tense beneath his tux, and something begged me to follow him.