Page 53 of Fake-ish


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“I’m here because your brother and I are engaged,” she says, though she still won’t look at me. With one hand grasping her book, she grips the edge of the sofa cushion with the other. This topic clearly makes her uncomfortable.

Is it because I see through this act?

Is it because I’m calling her out on her bullshit?

“We’re in love,” she says, though her tone is anything but convincing.

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me.” I play dumb. “When’s the wedding? Want to make sure I’m out of the country that day.”

“We haven’t set a date yet.” She ignores my sarcasm, though this time, her gaze flicks up to mine.

“Really? No mad dash to the altar?”

“There’s no reason to rush.”

“I don’t disagree with you on that. On the basis of principle, I mean. I couldn’t give a shit if you marry him tomorrow or five years from now. I’m just curious, is all,” I say. “Especially given the fact that a year ago, you were adamantly opposed to the idea of marriage.”

She swallows. “Not everything in life is cut and dry. Love is complicated. I never expected for this to happen.”

“Happen? It hasn’t happened yet. There’s still time to walk away, still time to not marry a man who looks at you like you’re some consolation prize. A participation ribbon.”

Her mouth falls open, though she doesn’t speak.

Maybe I took it too far, but it’s true.

I know my brother.

I know what he’s like when he actually gives a damn about a woman.

There’s no love between those two.

“Tell me one thing, and then I’ll never ask you another question again.” I keep my voice low. “Why him? Why Burke?”

She begins to say something when the lights flicker on.

Nicola’s kids cheer from down the hall.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m sorry I can’t give you an answer,” she says. “I wish that I could.”

I’m about to roll my eyes and give her yet another piece of my mind when a warm hand on my shoulder steals my momentum.

It’s Yvette.

“Have you seen your father?” she asks.

I turn to face her. “No, why?”

She toys with the gold pendant around her neck. “I was passing by the dining room and noticed his medication was still sitting out where I left it for him at lunch. He should’ve taken those pills four hours ago. I’ve been looking all over for him. Thought maybe he was in here, but . . .”

Briar tosses her book aside and pops up from the sofa. “I’ll help look.”

“Thank you,” Yvette says. “I’ve already been in every room of the house, but I haven’t checked the outbuildings yet. Briar, if you could double-check upstairs, that would be great. I’ll take the main floor. Dorian, would you mind running to the guesthouses and horse barn? I can’t imagine why he’d be outside in this weather, but something’s off.”

My conversation with Briar takes an immediate back seat as I sprint outside in the thunder and rain to search for my father, assuming the worst and hoping to God I’m wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

BRIAR

Present Day

The smell of hospital antiseptic fills my lungs as monitors beep and machines whoosh and whir around us. There’s a rhythm to it all, yet it’s all discordant, out of sync.

Not unlike the Rothwells themselves.

The ICU room is compact, filled with more wires and apparatuses than a person should ever have to be hooked up to.

Four hours ago, we were frantically searching for Redmond in the midst of a torrential downpour.

Dorian sprinted outside while Yvette and I checked every closet, nook, and cranny of their impossibly large home, eventually enlisting the help of Nicola, Dashiell, and the kids.

Ultimately, it was Nicola who found him collapsed on the floor of the potting shed, a few stalks of freshly trimmed larkspurs in his hand. When Dashiell questioned why Redmond was cutting flowers in the middle of a thunderstorm, Nicola was quick to point out that today would have been her mother’s birthday.

And larkspurs were her favorite.

Everything that happened after we found him seemed to happen in slow motion, every second longer than the one before. While Dorian located an emergency satellite phone, Nicola calmed the crying children. Dash stood around, looking as if he wanted to help but mostly taking up space. I clung to Burke in the midst of it all, an attempt to offer him comfort that he clearly didn’t need since his arm was limp in my grasp.

The rain cleared in time for the Life Flight helicopter to land on an open patch of the island. While paramedics worked to get Redmond stable enough for the flight to Boston Medical Center, the rest of us piled into the boat at the end of the dock, with nothing more than the damp clothes on our backs. When we reached the shore, an SUV was already waiting to take us to the hospital.

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