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BRENNANHENRYSTAREDout at the cold December night, feeling nothing but emptiness at spending Christmas Eve with Asher, who was drunk and intent on getting drunker if the bottle of scotch he’d pulled from the hotel minibar was any indicator.
“Appreciate you driving me,” Asher slurred with an ironic smile. “Had a bit too much at dinner.”
“Yeah, I know,” Brennan said, looking out at the city he loved. The moon hung over the old Hibernia Bank building, where columns glowed with red and green lights. The city was festive and bright, as it should be on the night before Christmas Day. Even the horns honking in the streets below sounded cheerful.
Asher knocked something over on his way toward the bed. “Have a drink. It’s Christmas.”
Brennan turned, hands in pockets, and contemplated his cousin in the weak light of the hotel suite. Asher had slipped his loafers off, loosened his tie, and was now propped against the headboard, full glass of amber liquor in hand. Part of Brennan wanted to ask Asher about Mary Paige and the kiss, the other part of him wanted to ignore what had occurred, as if ignoring it could mean it had never happened. “I should be going. I’m taking care of grandfather’s dog, and I don’t want a puddle on my pine floors.”
“Come on, it’s Christmas. Not like you have anything better to do.”
Wasn’t that the truth?
“Maybe one drink before I go. Not looking forward to walking her for blocks to find grass anyhow.” He walked to the bar, grabbed a small bottle of pinot, and poured the wine.
Brennan sank into one of the club chairs across from the bed and crossed one leg over his knee. “When will you leave?”
Asher blinked. “Leave where?”
“New Orleans. I assumed you and Elsa will head to Bern before the New Year.”
“Oh, that. Well, I’m not going back to Bern,” Asher said with a twist of his lips.
“Oh?”
“Elsa is, but not me. She and I are over, and she’s moved on to another man. Ironic, huh? I stole her from you, and he stole her from me. She’s such a whore.”
Brennan leaned against the back of the chair as his cousin’s admission sunk in, stunning him, angering him.I stole her from you.“So itwasintentional? You always said you two fell in love.”
“Fall in love with a whore? No way. They’re all whores. Soon as you lose your money and your looks, they wrap their legs around the nearest Italian millionaire. Whores.”
“And Mary Paige?”
“Who? That Spirit chick?”
“Never mind,” Brennan said as the depth of Asher’s bitterness washed over him, waking him up to what this man he’d admired truly was—not worthy. Brennan’s anger turned to pity, the disbelief to bitter acceptance of how wrong he’d been about Asher. “You’re drunk and need to sleep it off. Things will look better in the morning.”
“Will they?” Asher’s laugh sounded like a choke. “I doubt it. What you’re looking at is a man returning home with his tail between his legs. I don’t have anything left, Brennan. Nothing. The business, the houses, the Lear, everything is gone.G-O-N-E.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do I have to spell it out? You’re gonna make me repeat it, you bastard?” Asher’s voice rose angrily in the room. “You win, Brennan. My house of cards has tumbled down. I’m broke. As in, I’m not even sure I can afford this hotel bill. Got it now? The great Asher Henry, continent-hopping businessman, husband to the hottest swimsuit model in the world is finished. Done. Over.”
Brennan didn’t have words. He stared at the man who had once been the person he most wanted to pattern his life after. What had happened to change the man before him? Or maybe life hadn’t changed Asher? Maybe it had changed Brennan.
Asher took a gulp of the scotch, spilling some down his shirt. “How you like me now?”
“Guess I don’t.”
“No? Well, get in line.”
For a moment the room was as quiet as the pall before daybreak. Nothing but the clink of ice in Asher’s glass and the sounds of the street below.
What does a person say to his cousin when he admits losing everything that made him who he was? To the man who admitted to stealing his girlfriend? To the man who had likely used Mary Paige to prove a point to Brennan? Asher was a playground bully and a selfish bastard.
Asher set the empty glass on the bedside table and pointed at Brennan. “I always thought you had it easy. Fancy boarding school, living in your grandfather’s house, learning at his knee. And what did I have? I lived with my father, who was a drunk and hit my mother when he got angry. Did you know that? Did you know he hit her?”
