My brow furrows ever so slightly in puzzlement. “For what?”
He leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Just for being you.”
21
Alyssa
It’s dark and the party is still going. A handful of people have left, but everyone who has stayed is drunk and having a good time—all but me and Brant, anyway. We’re having a good time, but we’re sober, sipping on water and punch instead of alcohol.
Theo is imbibing, and I’ve never seen him drunk before, but my God is he gregarious. He’s outgoing when he’s sober, but when he’s drunk, he’s almost amusing enough that I could forget he tried to have me killed.
Almost. Not quite.
The true testament to how drunk he is comes when he disappears inside the house and comes back out, but instead of going back to the party guests he hasn’t been avoiding all night, he comes straight over to us.
Sitting down in the chair across from Brant, he turns to the small table next to him and plunks down a bottle full of amber liquid and two glasses.
“Are you lost?” Brant asks him, sounding legitimately puzzled.
“Gentleman Jack,” Theo says to Brant, like that’s an answer. “I was saving this for when I’d had enough to drink to drink with you, and I think the time has come.”
“No thanks,” Brant answers easily.
“Come on,” Theo says, ignoring Brant’s protest and opening the bottle of alcohol. He pours liquid into both glasses and sets it back down, then he grabs one for himself and tries handing the other to Brant. “Have a drink with me.”
“No.”
“I know we don’t like each other, and we don’t have to like each other. We can go back to unwavering mutual hatred tomorrow, but tonight it’s a party, we’re family… come on, Brant. Have one drink with me.”
I look over at Brant to see if he’ll acquiesce, but he just watches Theo with a hard, untrusting look in his eyes.
I never really think about how unfriendly Brant is—it doesn’t bother me; I like his gruff ways—but sitting here across from Theo at his most sociable, it is abundantly noticeable.
After a moment passes and Theo is still holding out the untouched drink he poured for Brant, he finally sets it down again. Leaning in, lowering his voice, he asks, “Is there some reason you’re not drinking tonight? I’m only trying to socialize, not trying to sabotage you. Are you trying to get sober or something?”
“What?” Brant barks, scowling at his brother-in-law. “I’m not a fucking alcoholic, Theo. I don’t need to ‘get sober.’”
“It’s okay if you are, no judgment,” Theo insists, raising his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. “I think it’s respectable you’re trying to clean up your act for Alyssa and the baby.”
“Theo,” I finally say, feeling the need to intervene. I don’t know if he’s oblivious or actively trying to piss Brant off, but I can tell he’s treading on dangerous ground based on the anger radiating off my fiancé.
Theo looks over at me, and I immediately regret drawing his attention. His eyes twinkle and he offers a little smile. “You look pretty tonight, Alyssa.”
My heart leaps and I glance at Brant. Half of me wants to stay here and make sure this doesn’t go badly, but another part just wants to remove myself from the situation since my presence can only possibly inflame it.
“I have to pee,” I state, pushing up off my chair and walking away. If Theo wants to get himself punched in the face, that’s his business.
I really do have to pee, so as soon as I walk in the house, I head to the bathroom. I take my time, dawdling a bit, fixing my hair in the mirror and refreshing my lip balm. When I finally make my way back toward the kitchen, I find Bri standing there, absently wiping down the counter with a wet cloth.
I don’t think she hears me enter the room. Her head is down and she looks exhausted. Guilt stabs me and I move closer.
“Is there anything I can help with?” I ask.
Bri looks up in surprise and turns her attention to me, offering a tiny smile. “No, I’ve got it. Thank you.”
“Are you sure? You’ve been running around all day. I can at least help with the cleanup. Want me to take a trash bag outside and start collecting empty drinks and trash? You shouldn’t have to do everything yourself.”
Bri sighs, halting the movement of her washcloth and turning to look directly at me. “Has Brant told you about Nicole?”
I can’t quite mask my surprise at the abrupt turn in conversation. “Um…no, not really. I mean, I have a general idea, but he hasn’t given me specifics.”
Shaking her head, she looks down. “I really wish he would have.”
“He probably will.”
“It should have happened already. He should have told you before he proposed,” she states. “Marriage is hard enough when you go into it actually knowing the man you’re marrying, but keeping a secret like that—it’s not right. Now I’m stuck in this uncomfortable situation where I want my miserable brother to be happy for once, but I also don’t want you to enter into a binding agreement with the wool pulled over your eyes.”