“This is some party. How will the wedding top this?” my father asks, looking around. He’s holding my mother the same way Whiskey’s holding me.
“It was all Corton here,” I say, using his actual name. His head flicks to me when I do. Whiskey knows that I don’t call him that, and the only reason I am is because my father prefers formal names.
“Well, you really stepped up.” My father’s eyes check over my outfit, and I know he’s internally cringing because I’m not wearing a dress. In his eyes, all women should wear dresses all the time. Pants are a definite no-no.
“Grab yourself a drink. I have some more people I want Carla to meet.”
We start walking as my father nods, and I’m thankful he does that.
“I must admit, I didn’t expect you to have such a strange relationship with your family,” he says, then smiles as we step over to his next guest.
“You never asked.” I smile as we stop in front of a man.
“Leonard, this is my beautiful fiancée, Carla.”
The man nods his head and looks to Whiskey with dark, broody eyes. “So, my sister not good enough?” Leonard looks to me. “No offense to you, lady.”
I nod, turning to look at Whiskey, who has a tick in his jaw before he answers, “You know as well as I do that it was never going to work between myself and Serena.”
“So, I see. You prefer a different type.” He nods to me again before he walks off with a huff.
“You were in a relationship?” I ask him, confused.
“Yes.”
“How long ago?”
“Three weeks.” His honesty shocks me so much so that I step away from him like he has some sort of contagious disease. His eyes pinch when they look at me.
“Why did you end it?” I ask just above a whisper.
“Because of you. Now, let’s move on, shall we?” He turns, stepping back into my space, touching my back.
“Did you love her?” I ask.
Whiskey looks at me. “I could have,” is all he gives me before someone else walks over to shake his hand. I pay no attention, thinking whatever it is he wants from me must be important if he’s left a woman who he could have loved, for what he seems to think he can get from me.
“This is Chance and Aubrey Bateman.”
The name rings a bell, and I flick my eyes to the woman standing in front of me. She’s petite and curvy, the complete opposite to my long legs and slender body. Her auburn hair is tied up, and her wide green eyes stare at me.
“How do I know you?” The woman looks familiar. Where have I heard that name before? Looking past her to her husband, who holds her tight, he has copper-brown hair and is very good looking.
“Aussie?” I say, shocked. I haven’t seen him for a few years. My eyes flick back to Aubrey, and it clicks. “You’re Aussie’s Aubrey.” Then I shake my head. “And you’re a lawyer, aren’t you?” I ask.
Aussie grips her tight.
I almost slept with him once.
Aussie’s one of the good guys. Chance, as everyone knows him, but I know him as Aussie, would come in constantly and we’d talk for hours. I used to think what a fool Aubrey was to let him get away. It seems by the rings on each of their fingers that didn’t happen after all.
“Carla babes.” Aussie shakes his head, let’s go of his wife and kisses me on the cheek. “You look good.”
Aubrey reaches for him again and looks at me with sad eyes. “I’ve never seen it, if that’s what you’re wondering?” Aubrey leans in to whisper, “I didn’t know. I was just…” she trails off and looks to Whiskey.
“I met Chase here when I hired him to carry out some landscaping business on my property. Turns out we’re both Australian.” Whiskey offers Chance a smile. Chance doesn’t return it.
“But you don’t have an accent,” is all that leaves my mouth.
“He’s mastered hiding it. But believe me it can come out when he’s angry or drunk,” Chance offers.
I don’t say anything else.
“Carla babes, if you need to talk. It’s time I listened.”
I shake my head at him.
Aubrey offers me a sad smile.
Whiskey goes to touch my back again, and I pull away. “Carla,” he chastises me.
“What?” I bite back. “How many people know?” I turn to face him and notice they walk away as we start arguing. I haven’t seen Aussie for so long I almost forgot what he looked like. He was one of the good ones.
Aubrey’s lucky.
Unlike me. More like unlucky in love is what I am.
“Just them, and Barry. No one else.”
I smile, but it is fake.
“How do you know them?”
“I don’t want to talk about this now.” It’s something I’ve mastered, as I continue to walk around being introduced to people I don’t care to know.