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He picks up the bottle of Lagavulin, which is a quarter empty, and his gaze slides to me. “Are you drunk?”
“No.” I do my best to sound indignant, which isn’t easy when I’m seeing double.
“Did you forget about the party?”
I run a hand over my face and through my hair. “Kind of. Sorry, I should have texted. I’m not going.”
He slides his hand into his pockets. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Tell them I’m sorry, but I couldn’t make it.”
He studies me calmly for a moment. Then he says, “Go and get dressed. I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”
“I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are. I’ve also got better things to do than play happy families, but Mum wants us to be there, and we’re doing it for Saxon, who’s had a tough time and deserves some support. So go on, get a pair of jeans on.”
Irritation flares inside me. “I just said, I’m not going. Saxon doesn’t need me there.”
“He’s your twin, dude. Obviously something’s going on with you, and I’m sorry about that, but you need to show some solidarity. I’ll get the coffee going.” He walks off into the kitchen.
Grumbling, I heave myself off the sofa and go downstairs to the bedroom. Normally I wouldn’t let him tell me what to do, but deep down I know he’s right.
I tug on a pair of jeans and a shirt, run a comb through my hair, glare at my bleary eyes in the mirror, then go back upstairs, slotting on my glasses. Damon pushes a cup of espresso across the kitchen counter to me. I have a mouthful and wince at its bitterness, but finish it off while he watches.
He nods. “Come on. We’re going to be late anyway.”
I shove my feet in my Converses, grab my keys and phone, and follow him out to his car.
“So what’s going on?” he asks as he heads toward our parents’ place, which is only a short drive away.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m guessing Alice has broken up with you?”
“Jesus, which part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ is so fucking difficult for you to understand?”
“Knock it off,” he snaps. “You’re being a dick, and if you ruin this evening, I’m going to break both your legs.”
I glare moodily out of the window, and we don’t talk again.
When we get there, Damon parks on the top level, and we make our way into the house. It’s a mansion really, built on several levels on the side of one of Wellington’s hills, with a billiard room, a theater room, a huge pool, and three separate apartments that Saxon, Damon, and I used to live in while we were at university.
I’ve always loved it here, but today it brings me no pleasure to see the fine furnishings and numerous rooms. It feels wrong to be surrounded by such opulence when Alice has left me because she feels it’s the only option when she doesn’t have the money to solve her problems.
We go into the main living room and discover that everyone else is already here—Saxon, Catie, my dad’s twin brother, Brandon, his wife Jenny, their daughter, Kennedy, her husband, Jackson, and baby Eddie. Their family dog, Pongo, sits patiently by Catie’s side, fascinated by both the baby in her arms and the other one in the car seat at her feet.
Everyone cheers as we walk in, and we go around and exchange hugs and kisses. I feel oddly out of it all, as if I’m on the outside looking in, and at the first chance I can, I go over to the drinks cabinet and pour myself another whisky. I turn to see Saxon and Damon exchanging glances, but I ignore them. I’m not interested in discussing my problems, and I have no interest in listening to their opinions on my love life. As soon as I can, I’m going to get out of here, head home, and collapse into an alcohol-induced stupor.
“Hello, honey,” Mum says, sidling up and slipping her arm around my waist. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I give her a tight smile and squeeze her shoulders.
“Hungry?” she asks. “We’ve got some great food tonight.”
“Not really.”
She studies my face and tips her head to the side with a frown. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
