I've stood here, in front of the mirror, a thousand times.
But only once since Bash died.
This house has always been cold and sterile. But when the four of us were here, when Bash was alive—
We didn't fill every nook and cranny with laughter, but we came close. We came really fucking close.
Even in the middle of winter, with Dad's death looming over us and the high ceilings inviting draft, we filled the space with warmth.
He was alive.
There's no other way to describe it.
He was as alive as I was before I lost him. No, more. We were both bright and vibrant, but he loved with his entire heart.
He fell headfirst.
Then he died.
I don't live in a cave. I heard the foul play rumors too. A car accident, really? Because of some dysfunction in the engine? It's hard to believe.
Of course, Simon looked into it.
But maybe that's all it was. A little too much suspicion. Some bad luck. An engineering failure.
Is that what I'll find in the folder at the bottom of my suitcase?
A confirmation of Simon's inability to move on.
What else could it be?
If it was intentional, if someone else was responsible—
There's no fucking way Simon would let that go.
The asshole would already be in the ground.
But then maybe he is. Maybe my brother already murdered the asshole and disposed of the body and everyone shrugged ah, well, he was about to go away for insider trading. I guess he flew the coop.
Fuck. I need to get out of here. Away from the mirror, my reflection, the truth at the bottom of my suitcase.
That's a metaphor if I've ever heard one.
But I can't contemplate it for another second.
I slip into the hallway. Knock on the bathroom door.
"Liam?" Briar's voice is soft. "Is the party starting?"
"Almost."
"I'll be out in five."
"Want to make it ten?"
"Ten… oh." She laughs. "Only five minutes? That doesn't speak well of your abilities."
"You doubt me?"
She unlocks the door.
I step inside. It's just as strange, being in this familiar space. The clawfoot bathtub on the left. The giant mirror. The double sink.
And Briar, standing on the marble floor barefoot, already a vision in her short black cocktail dress.
"You look fucking amazing."
"Thanks." Her eyes flit to my tie. "You too."
I don't usually complain about the suit, but it's too much today. I need it gone. I need all this shit gone. "I won't fuck up your makeup." I press my lips to her neck. "Or your hair."
"You promise?"
"I promise." I slip my hand between her legs.
"Well." Her breath hitches as I rub her over her panties. "If you promise."
I slip between her legs, roll her panties to her ankles, lick her until she's groaning my name.
She tastes like heaven.
And the sound of her groan bouncing around the room?
There's nothing better.
It's perfect.
A few minutes in heaven.
Then I stand, clean up, and prepare to walk into hell.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Briar
"I'm going to steal your fiancée for a minute." Opal hooks arms with me. "Thanks, Liam." She blows him a kiss.
"Did I say yes?" he asks.
"Did I ask a question?" She raises a brow exactly the way he does. "Briar is her own person. Not your property."
"You're the one claiming you're stealing her."
She shoots him a please look. "I am taking Briar away from this location with or without your permission." She turns to me. "If you don't mind. And even if you do. You promised."
"I did." And I didn't promise Liam I'd stay by his side. Not exactly. But I promised something, and he needs someone.
"Go for it, Bri. I'm fine." He fails to sell his statement.
The party is in its early stages—two dozen people, mostly on the patio, watching the sun begin its descent into the horizon—and Liam is already antsy.
"You want a drink?" He looks to me. "Grapefruit martini?"
"Thanks." I need to relax a little. There's too much in my head. I'm too overwhelmed by my desire to stay by his side.
I want to drag him back to his bedroom and fuck him all night.
And I want to snuggle in a blanket and watch the stars and talk about life.
It's a clear evening. Are the stars as bright as Liam claims? I can't remember the last time I saw a sky full of stars.
Those perfect specks of light against the darkness.
I need to see them. To see them with him.
The sun is starting to set. That means, what, two hours until a brilliant sky? I can survive two hours of small talk.
"Can I have one too?" Opal presses her palms together. "Please, Liam."
"Simon already wants to kill me," he says.
"You're taking his side?" She pouts. "I can't believe that."
"You think that's going to work?" he asks.
She nods.
He chuckles. "Yeah. I'm pretty fucking obvious, huh?"
"Sometimes." She releases me to throw her arms around him. "Thanks, Liam. You're my favorite."
"What's the qualifier this time? Favorite brother who lets you drink?"