“Stop talking.”
“You gotta know that. I carried you to bed. You were wasted. I wouldn’t have left you. The only thing I can’t figure out is where Falyn was.”
His phone rang, and he answered. “Did you find her?” He nodded, looking at me. “Putting you on speaker.”
“Ellie?” Taylor said as Tyler held out the phone. “Falyn went to the store to get a few things for a birthday breakfast. She let Finley in. She doesn’t know everything, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her. I didn’t sleep with your sister, and this could get really complicated trying to explain.”
I covered my eyes with my hand. “I won’t say anything. I’m sorry, Taylor.”
Tyler hung up the phone and slid it into his back pocket. “Come here,” he said, holding out his hands.
I kept my face covered. “I’m so sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault,” he said. He walked over to me and wrapped the blanket around us both.
I pressed my forehead against his chest, breathing in stale cigarette smoke and his cologne.
I left him to sit on the couch, lighting a cigarette. He sat next to me, letting his head fall back against the wall. “I’m not sure which one of you should hate the other more.”
“You heard her. We’re sisters. We can’t hate each other.”
“I can hate her,” he grumbled. “I have to know how she crawled into bed with Taylor without him knowing. He must have thought she was Falyn coming back to bed.”
I took a drag and then handed it to Tyler. He took a drag and handed it back.
“My fucked up family has officially poisoned yours.”
Tyler took the beer out of my hand. “You were black-out drunk last night, and you’re drinking again. I thought you were going to quit? Do I need to quit with you?”
“I’ve just lost my sister. Not the best time to stop drinking.”
“There will never be a good time if you have to drink every time you’re upset. Shit happens. You have to learn to deal with it without alcohol. I love you no matter what, but you need to wake up, Ellie.”
My eyebrows pulled together as I stared at the wall. “I can’t wake up. This isn’t a dream.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Glowing white lights hung from the ceiling, strung along the muslin looped loosely from the rafters. Fat candle votives were surrounded with elaborate green and white floral centerpieces on each table.
Abby and Travis were slow dancing in the center of the room, whispering and smiling, deliriously happy. I was lying on the floor, snapping pictures and looking for other angles. I’d already taken shots of the wedding party, the families, the couples, and the first dance. Next would be the cutting of the cake, but Travis and Abby didn’t seem to be in any hurry.
I pushed to my feet, feeling someone tap on my shoulder. Tyler stood behind me, clean-shaven and gorgeous in a tux, his top button undone and his bow tie hanging off kilter.
“Wanna dance?” he asked.
“I should probably stay focused. I’d hate to miss anything.”
He slid his hands into his pants pockets and nodded.
“Oh, go on!” Camille said, pulling up on my camera until the strap slipped over my head. “I’ll take your picture.”
“I prefer to be on the other side of the camera,” I said.
“Please?” Tyler said, tugging me toward the dance floor.
I followed, but Camille clicking my camera like paparazzi was maddening. Tyler and I smiled for a few pictures, and then Camille decided to try her photography skills on Shepley’s parents and Trenton.
Tyler stared at our hands while he swayed with me a few feet away from the not-so-newlyweds. He touched his smooth cheek to mine, breathing me in and savoring the moment.
“This is a good song,” he said. “I’ve heard it a hundred times and never thought I’d be in St. Thomas dancing with you to it.”
“It’s beautiful here. I’d forgotten. If I haven’t told you thank you yet … thank you.”
“If I hadn’t, America’s parents would have paid your way.”
“Maybe they would have gotten me my own room,” I said with a smirk.
“Doubtful. No one believes that we’re just friends, despite your insistence.”
I glanced at my glass of “ice water” I’d left at our table. Before the wedding, I’d emptied a water bottle and gone downstairs to fill it with vodka. Every sip I’d taken during the course of the day made me feel physically better and emotionally worse.
“The second they smash that cake in each other’s faces, I’m done. Fourteen hours is enough for one day. This is more stressful than being on the mountain at the head of a fire.”