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We don’t say much for a while, just letting the sounds of people comforting one another around us remind us of a similar memorial service we all stood at about five years ago. Our grandfather’s. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday, and other times, it might as well have been an entire lifetime away. So much has happened since then. Things that would make Grandfather spin in his grave.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Matthias mutters, finally breaking the silence. “Look.”
We all look up to see a striking older blonde woman in a tight black dress breaking apart from the crowd and making her way over to us.
“Fucking hell.” Damien hisses and immediately storms off. “I’mout.”
“Yeah. Shit. “Matthias emptying his glass in one swig. “That’s my cue as well,”
“I’m with you guys. You coming, Kingy?” Kylian says, his voice uncharacteristically hard.
I shake my head, my stance widening a little. “Er, no, you guys go ahead. I’ll join you in a minute.”
“Dad?” Kylian asks, although he’s itching to go.
Dad gives his youngest a tight smile and shakes his head. “You go on, buddy. I’ll stay with Kingsley.”
Kylian looks back at me, hesitating, but then follows our brothers over to the bar. Little sunshine boy, definitely. Kylian is easily the sweetest of all of us, but that doesn’t mean he’s here for any unnecessary trouble that he doesn’t have to tolerate. And the trouble that’s coming our way is the worst any of us have ever known.
“Jeremy, how nice to see you,” she says to Dad, her voice dripping with honey. It almost makes my teeth hurt.
“Elise, you look well,” my father answers, with more courtesy than I would be able to muster if I were him.
“I am. All the more well seeing you. And Kingsley, of course.” She reaches out and touches my arm. “How are you doing, dear? You must be having such a difficult day.”
I meet her eyes for a split second and look away. “I’m fine, Mother.”
If she notices the cold in my voice, she doesn’t show it. Or maybe she’s just had so much practice at being talked to like that by her own flesh and blood that she doesn’t flinch.
“Well, I’m glad I came today, to be here for you if you need me. It was such a shame to hear that Ernest passed. I thought he was going to live forever, like Martin.”
Dad cracks his neck, his lips tightening, but that’s the only evidence that he’s reacting to his gold-digging, cheating ex-wife mentioning his father.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Are you eating? Sleeping? You look awfully tired, dear. Much older than your forty-one years.”
“As I said, I’m fine. No need to fuss.”
She clicks her tongue. “Well. Sue a mother for caring about her firstborn. But while you’re here, I’d love for you to come and meet someone. I think you’ll find her utterly fascinating.”
“I’m busy, Mother. Maybe another time.”
She clicks her tongue again, the sound echoing her lifelong disappointment in her sons, “Busy with what? Talking to your father? You can talk at any time. She’s about to leave.”
“I saidnot now.”
“But Kingsley—”
“Leave him alone, Mother,” Damien says, coming up behind me. If she thought my voice was cold, my spine turns into an ice column at Damien’s voice.
As far as I know, he hasn’t seen her since she ambushed him in Sydney over a year ago, trying to get him to walk her down the aisle for her umpteenth wedding and make nice with her new soon-to-be stepkids. He refused, but not after dumping her on a plane out of the country and falling down a spiral that almost lost him his job, and most importantly, My-Linh. And if there’s one thing you should know about Damien, being the cause of him losing My-Linh is not something he will ever forgive you for.Not us, not himself, and, least of all, not the woman who made his childhood a living hell.
“Oh, Damien. My darling!’’ She twitters, turning her full attention toward him, every part of her body facing him, showering as much of her charm on him as she can muster. And she has it in spades.
He doesn’t bother meeting her eyes, though, his eyes wandering at a spot somewhere over the top of her overly coiffed head. “Weren’t you just leaving?”
She scoffs prettily and hangs onto his arm. “Oh, not at all. Not until we’ve caught up. I heard you got married, Damien. I’m surprised I wasn’t invited.”
“No, you’re not,” he says pointedly.
