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Fuck.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to start beating my head against the nearest wall at the thought. Jesus, I really am pathetic. No wonder my father doesn’t think I should be king.
“Actually, there’s some news on that front,” Kian tells me.
I don’t care enough to respond. Right now, my father and his bullshit machinations are about as far from my mind as they can get. Instead, I spend a few seconds thinking about ripping the bottle of whiskey out of Kian’s hands, then decide against it. Not because I don’t want another drink, but because the alcohol has pretty much shot my reflexes to hell. No reason to put myself through even more humiliation—Lola pretty much took care of that when she stomped all over my heart before she walked out on me.
“You’re not even going to ask me?” my brother demands after I pry myself off the couch and walk over to stand near the balcony.
I’ve already forgotten what we were talking about. But saying that to Kian will cause more trouble than it’s worth, so I give what I hope is a careless shrug but, in actuality, could be anything from a nod to a full-body convulsion.
“Jesus, Garrett. I know it sucks that she left, but nothing’s forever. If she means that much to you, give her a little time to miss you and then go after her.”
“When she left here, she seemed pretty determined to never see me again.”
“That was then, in the heat of the moment. If she really is in love with you, it won’t take much to convince her to give you another shot.”
“Why do I need another shot? I’m not the one who left.”
Kian snorts. “If you have to ask that question, you obviously don’t know women.”
“And you do?”
“I’ve managed to hold on to Savvy for ten months.”
I roll my eyes. “She always did have terrible taste in men.”
Needling Kian with the fact that I dated Savvy first is strangely satisfying. He’s never admitted it, but I know my brother well enough to know just how much it bugs him. I guess misery really does love company.
“Keep it up and I’ll take my whiskey and go back to my room. Where, I might add, my woman is waiting for me.”
“You’ve gotten mean in your old age, you know that?” I snatch the whiskey from his hand and down a fair bit of it in one long swallow.
“I learned from the best. And speaking of Dad, did you hear what I said earlier? I talked to him about an hour ago an
d he seems ready to talk about putting things back the way they belong.”
“Good for him.” I take another drink.
“Are you so drunk that you don’t understand what I’m saying?” he demands. “You’re going to get the throne back! And I am going to get my blessed, blessed freedom back.”
“I heard you. I just don’t give a shit. I’m not taking the throne.”
“What do you mean you’re not taking the throne? It’s not a party favor. You can’t just leave it sitting on the table on your way out the door! It’s the throne. You know, that thing you’ve wanted your whole life? The thing we’ve been scheming to get you for months now?”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. It’s yours now.”
“Wait. What the hell is going on here? I know you’re upset Lola left—”
“This has nothing to do with Lola,” I tell him so convincingly that I almost believe it myself.
“Of course it does. Twenty-four hours ago, you were all about being king. Now you don’t give a shit? The only thing that’s changed is her, so…”
“She’s not the only thing that’s changed.” Anger slams through me, burning off a good deal of the alcohol. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m sick of being yanked around by the old bastard?”
“Of course it occurred to me. I feel the same way. That’s why this is such good news. Once you get the throne back, he won’t be able to yank you around anymore.”
I shoot him a disbelieving look. “You don’t really believe that bullshit, do you?”
