“You are going to his wedding, right?” Zane asked, his voice neutral.
“Yeah. Make me something of an asshole if I came to yours and not his.”
“Well, everybody knows I’m the coolest brother, but . . . yeah. You need to go to both.” Zane’s gaze slid to Travis, his mouth tightening slightly.
Sebastien knew why. Only a few seconds before the wedding had started, Travis had slid in, and if anybody had been more quiet than Sebastien, it was Travis. He spoke with the others and joked with his twin, but it was obvious things weren’t normal with him.
But then again, things hadn’t been normal with Travis for a long time.
Of course, who was he to make an issue of things being normal?
He’d lost touch with the idea of that a long time ago.
One of the bouncers who Zane had stayed friends with came up, congratulating the newlyweds, and Sebastien took advantage of it, getting up to head off to a quieter—and darker—corner.
On his way, he snagged a bottle of champagne from a server.
In the back of his mind, he heard his mother’s voice.
How long has it been . . .
He almost put the bottle down, but he wasn’t ready to do that yet.
He wasn’t sure he was ready to try to be okay.
So he smiled at the server from whom he’d taken the champagne and winked.
She blushed and smiled back.
***
I won’t get drunk, he told himself.
The bottle was less than half full, not enough to get drunk on but enough to get his raging headache back under control, he figured.
And he might just have to share.
Travis was in the same dark corner, his eyes grim, mouth flat.
“You sure you need to be drinking?” Travis asked.
Sebastien eyed him up and down, taking in gaunt cheeks and hard eyes. “Do you?”
“Fuck off.”
“Same to you, brother.”
They leaned against the window and studied the merriment taking place in front of them.
Ten minutes might have passed. Or it could have been fifteen.
“You going to Trey’s wedding?” Travis asked.
They traded the bottle of champagne back and forth and Sebastien doubted he was the only one wishing it were something stronger. “Yes. I won’t bother asking if you are.”
Travis made a low noise under his breath and took a swig from the bottle.
Then abruptly he shoved himself off the floor-to-ceiling window and rounded on Sebastien. Finger pointed at Sebastien’s nose, Travis spoke, his voice hard and cold. “My life is fucked up. I set myself on this road and there’s not much I can do except finish walking it. You . . . Shit, Seb. You were the golden boy. You were going to make it. All of you . . .”
Travis looked away, blinked hard. “I know you’re pissed off. I know you’re mad. I know you’re hurting over Monica. But your life isn’t over. Stop acting like it is.”
The intensity beat in every word Travis said and for a moment, as the brothers stared at each other, Sebastien couldn’t even blink. He couldn’t look away, could barely breathe.
Then Travis spun away, still holding on to the bottle of champagne. Somebody called his name.
But it wasn’t Trey. Trey could still reach his twin . . . sometimes. It didn’t seem like anybody else could. Travis just kept walking.
Sebastien sagged back against the wall and closed his eyes.
Chapter Five
“Son of a bitch, boy. I think you’re sober.”
Sebastien squinted one eye. The other was closed. He wasn’t sure why he’d answered the call but he was stuck now.
As he lowered the heavy barbell to his chest, he blew out a breath, pondering what his manager was up to. Pushing it back up, he focused on his breathing before answering. “I’m sober.”
“Good, good . . . then we can talk this over in depth.” His agent JD Rutherford’s voice came through loud and clear over the Bluetooth.
“Talk what over in depth? If this is that stupid TV bio thing, I’m not interested. I might be a washed-up has-been but I’m not desperate for cash or attention.” He shoved the bar up with a little more force and wondered just who in the hell had passed his personal contact information onto the catty producer who’d contacted him.
“No,” JD said, his voice flat. “And you’re not a washed-up has-been. I don’t work with has-beens. I’ve been trying to get you out of that cave of yours for months, but you’ve been dodging me or so drunk off your ass, it’s hard to talk to you.”
Sebastien grunted. “Well, it’s early yet. Call back in a few and I’ll probably be on my ass again.”
He was lying. He’d almost dumped out all the alcohol the day he got back from Trey’s wedding in Virginia, but he hadn’t. Still, he hadn’t had a drink since the few sips of champagne he’d shared with Travis in Vegas. He hadn’t talked to anybody, including Marin, and he wasn’t sure exactly what had set him off, but when he’d gotten into his hotel room, he’d walked into the bathroom and stared at his reflection.