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She was everything I wasn't. And never would be.
“She's a friend, Lola,” Tate murmured softly. “One of his oldest friends. You can't read anything into it. You can’t.”
But I would and I could. I couldn't help it. Isla was one of his oldest friends and that was half of the problem. I could never compete with their history. With their easy familiarity.
“I know,” I whispered.
Across the packed room, Isla raised her head. Her eyes locked with mine and for a second she looked shocked to see me. Her painted lips moved as she said something to Dion that I couldn't hear over the laughter and pouding music.
His head snapped upright. The smile slipped as he said something and passed the baby back to her.
“You made it back in time. I didn't think you would.” Stopping in front of me, he pressed a kiss to my cheek.
“Yeah, that’s pretty fucking clear,” my brother snarled. I shot him a look, begging him with my eyes not to make a scene.
Dion's eyes narrowed. “You have something to say to me, Louis?”
“Plenty.”
I clutched at my brother's arm. “No, he doesn't.”
Dion ignored me totally. “You have a problem with who I invite into my home?”
“Isn't it my sister's home as well?” Louis didn't back down. He was never the kind to back down. Not ever. He’d been that way since a child. Always happy to fight those bigger than he was.
“Of course it's Lola’s home.” Dion swivelled his eyes to me. “You don't mind that Isla is here do you? She’s not staying long, she has the baby and–”
“I don't mind, of course not. It's your party.”
Dion grinned. “I knew you would understand, babes.” His arm encircled my shoulders, and that's when I smelt it. The faint whiff of champagne on his breath. Frowning, I turned my face up to him.
“Have you been drinking?”
“I've had like half a glass.”
He’d had more than half a glass. His eyes were too glazed for half a glass.
"Where's Elodie?”
“Not here yet?” Dion's eyebrows pinched together. “She’s not my mother you know, you don't have to tattle to her because I had one lousy drink and–”
“Enough.” Surprisingly, it was Tate that stepped in. His usually placid face was awash with anger. “Enough, Dion, before you say or do something fucking stupid.”
“What like invite his ex–girlfriend into the house he shares with my sister when he thinks she won't be back?” My brother snapped.
“Stop it all of you.” I hated confrontation. I always had. And I'd had enough fighting today to last me a lifetime. All I wanted to do was sleep. “Just stop it.” My stomach rolled.
“Lola, are you ok?” Tate was the only one who noticed the colour draining from my face. He steadied me with one giant hand.
“I just don't feel well.”
“Pretty sure our mother tried to poison us,” Louis added unhelpfully.
“You're sick?” Dion was suddenly there, his hands on my elbows as he straightened me up. “Why didn't you say you felt ill?”
“I'm fine. I just need to sleep it off somewhere quiet.” My eyes travelled around the room. It was full of festive cheer, the clink of glasses and laughter. The kind of Christmas party you read about, but I felt nothing.
I sure as hell didn't feel like I was part of it.
