Absently, he reached up and traced the scar with his fingers.
When he lowered his hand, Marin caught it with hers. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly.
He looked over, met her pretty blue eyes. Even now, knowing she was here only because she felt bad for him; those eyes made his heart swell up in his chest. He tightened his fingers on hers. “Yeah, me, too.”
“Liar.” She laughed and tugged her hand free, reaching up to brush his hair back. It had gotten long and was hanging in his face and brushing his collar. He’d thought about getting it cut, but now decided there was no way that would happen. She’d done that twice, pushed his hair back. If he cut it, she’d have one less reason to touch him.
“What am I lying about?” he asked.
“You’re not glad you’re here.”
He almost pointed out that he’d been talking about her—he was glad she was here.
But he figured that might make her uncomfortable. “I’m not not glad I’m here.” Shifting on the seat, he looked over as the limo merged with the traffic on the exit ramp. “If I have to go and face the family, it’s best that I do it now.”
Just . . . get it over with, then he’d go back to wasting what was left of his life.
“Sebastien?”
He looked over at her.
“She wouldn’t want this.”
He tensed, but before he could look away, Marin slid closer and cupped his face in her hands. “Don’t shut me out. You know I’m right. Monica wouldn’t have wanted you to live like this . . . and you know it. Sooner or later, you need to face that.”
***
Sebastien was willing to admit when he was wrong—at least to himself.
And he was doing that very thing now.
He’d been wrong.
He hadn’t voiced it to Marin, but he’d hoped if he slouched his way in with her at his side and did it at something like a wedding where there was craziness abounding, then he wouldn’t have to worry so much about dealing with his family
Or rather he wouldn’t have to worry so much about dealing with them on a personal level. After all, weddings were chaos, right?
But clearly, he’d forgotten some things about his brother Zane.
Zane didn’t do chaos.
Apparently, neither did Keelie.
Keelie had somehow managed to book a venue that Sebastien would have thought was unbookable. But then again, it turned out that Keelie was loaded and money opened doors.
Apparently, Ressa and Trey were in on the last minute thing because Ressa was one of Keelie’s maids of honor. Abby was the other one. Zach and Trey stood up with Zane.
Travis sat next to him and as he reached up to rub at his skull, his brother held out a hand.
Sebastien scowled at the four orange pills. He’d popped enough ibuprofen over the past few months to recognize them, but it annoyed him that his brother was probably assuming he was hungover.
He hadn’t had a drink since a few hours before Marin had arrived on his doorstep, so he was sobered up and then some, but chances were the headache had to do with the lack of alcohol in his system.
That realization made him feel a little sick.
He pushed Travis’s hand down, refusing the pills, and focused on his brother.
An older man Sebastien didn’t know was giving Keelie away—the guy’s name was Paul Jenkins. Sebastien had caught that much, but he didn’t know the guy’s connection to Keelie.
He might have, if he’d spent any time of the past year involved in his family’s lives.
He heard his mother sniffling.
His dad cleared his throat.
The wedding was small, just the family and a few friends from the tattoo shop, a few guys Zane knew through his photography.
Sebastien had a feeling it was going to make it that much harder to avoid face time with everybody later.
He was right.
Instead of the big reception, there was an elaborate and delicious dinner, served right there, in the glitz and glamour of a high-rise hotel with the sprawling vista of Las Vegas all around them.
He’d managed to get through most of the meal with easy small talk. Marin deflected just about everything and if a few people gave them both speculative looks, then, so what?
But as the cake was cleared away, while Keelie curled up against Zane, Sebastien started planning his escape. His glance at the door didn’t go unnoticed.
Zach leaned in from his seat across the table and said, “You’re not leaving without talking to Mom. Don’t even think about it.”
The urge to tell his brother to fuck off leaped to his lips.
Abby bumped her shoulder against Zach’s. “Leave him alone, baby. He’s here, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, but—” He broke off mid-sentence as their mom pushed back from her chair at the other end of the table.
Zach gave him a warning look. Abby gave Zach the same.
“You two, behave,” Marin said, shaking her head. She got up from her seat and gestured to Denise. “You want to sit here? Mediation might be needed in a moment.”