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My sister scrunched her face. “No. He’s so yesterday. I’m single at the moment.”
My sister and her bad boys. “Is he still stalking you?” I asked.
“He is. I might need a bodyguard. What’s Carson up to?”
“He’s going to have his hands full with the boot camp. I’ve got him in charge of the training program. I can put out the word. Some of my former army mates are now working in security.” I grew suspicious. “You don’t strike me as worried.”
“I can look after myself. But yeah, I might hire someone for when I’m in London.”
I peered down at my watch. “I’ve got to go.”
“Hey, can you give me a lift into the village?” Ethan asked.
“Sure.” An uncomfortable feeling settled in my stomach. I had no intention of going to that pub earlier, but my need to see Theadora had deepened by the minute.
“Where are you off to?” Savvie asked.
“I thought I might drop into the Mariner for a drink and see what the locals are up to,” Ethan said.
“Singing sea shanties, guzzling stout, and stinking of fish.” Savvie giggled. “I might tag along though. Anything to get away from the tension in there. I can just hear Mother talking endlessly about the resort and Father sinking back the drinks. Hey, do you think Luke’s into him? Or do you think he’s just after his money?”
I was too busy trying to figure out how I could shake off my siblings from visiting the local to answer.
“He doesn’t strike me as being in love,” Ethan said.
They followed me to my car and jumped in.
When we arrived at the pub, Ethan asked, “Are you coming in?”
I regarded them both: my brother in his designer blazer and slacks and my sister in a shimmery dress more fit for a London dance club.
“Maybe for one drink, then,” I said.
“Yay. Go, bro.” Ethan climbed out of the SUV.
“I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll just park the car.”
I parked and sat there for a moment, lost in contemplation, as I rubbed my face.
Bailing out was not an option. I had to know that Theadora wasn’t going to end up with that guy from college. He was dead keen. That was obvious enough.
I buried my head in my hands. What was I doing? After spending every night together, I was already suffering withdrawal symptoms.
Perhaps I had to offer her something.
But what exactly?
I had to get my shit together first and maybe travel a little more. Or was that just me making excuses?
I could stare suicide bombers in the face, but not love.
Love?
How did one distinguish between love and lust?
With all these questions swimming in my head, I walked slowly to the pub.
Mirabel Storm strummed her guitar while singing a haunting and mesmerising song. All eyes were on the stage, modestly lit by one spotlight. The atmosphere mystical and feminine.
