“What?”
“I remembered back when I started dating Alison and how annoyed I was at everyone saying she was wrong for me because of what it could do to my campaign. How her background looked crappy, because it did, and how she was a single mother and all that. I remember thinking, ‘Why doesn’t anyone care if I’m happy?’ I almost lost her because of that.”
“That’s the same thing I’m thinking,” I say, looking over his shoulder at Graham before resting my eyes on Barrett again.
“If he turns out to be like Nolan, we’ll kill him.”
“Barrett!”
“I’m kidding.”
“I’m not,” Graham says, causing Barrett to shake his head. “And don’t think we don’t know about what happened to his father. We do. Nick Parker found out for us.”
“You hired a private investigator?” I ask, my jaw dropping. “That’s too far, G. Too far.”
“Hey, that was Dad’s directive,” Graham says, holding up his hands. “He trumped me on that.”
“Oh, shit,” I say, looking at the ceiling and fake crying.
Barrett laughs, moving away and picking up his drink again. “I’ll handle the old man. He’s mellowing out in his old age. I think you’ll be fine.”
“Mellowing out?” I ask. “Maybe to you! He’s as uptight as ever with me and Sienna.”
“He remembered when that happened,” Graham says, coming forward. “I guess Nolan had talked about what an asshole his brother was—Dominic’s dad. He said it was better off that he was dead.”
“But Dom has to live with that,” I point out. “You think that’s easy for him?”
“It couldn’t be,” Barrett admits. “But Dad will be fine. I got you on this.”
“Why are you so supportive?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I’m mellowing out in my old age. Maybe I know how it feels to be in your situation. Either way, I want you happy, Swink, and everyone I’ve talked to says you’re happier than you’ve ever been. Except for Graham. He says you’re meaner,” he winks.
My heart leaps with joy, tears wetting my eyes. “I am happy, Barrett. I really am. And I’m only mean to G when he deserves it.”
Before he can say a word, Huxley is opening the door. “Hey, Dad. Mom wants you.”
“The boss needs me,” he says, shaking my shoulder as he walks by.
It’s just Graham and I, both fighting a smile. “I heard Dom called you.”
“Mallory has a big mouth.”
“That she does. She also told me you’ve been acting weird. Like, weirder than normal.”
He blows out a breath, leaning on one of the round tables in the room. He starts to talk, then stops.
“Spill it, G. What’s going on?”
“Lots of decisions to be made.”
I bite the side of my cheek, trying not to smile. “The answer is yes.”
“What answer?”
“The answer to the question you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking.”
“Because you’re my big brother and I spent my entire childhood observing you. Granted, back then it was so I could use that information to my advantage. It’s just handy now too sometimes.”
“You’re too much,” he scoffs, shoving off the table.
I shrug. “Okay, so you aren’t wondering whether you’d make a good husband? You aren’t curious, at least a little bit, whether it’s too early to marry Mallory or if you should wait and be really, really sure? Because this definitely goes against the plan you made when you were ten years old,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He doesn’t flinch.
“You are,” I say, wagging a finger at him. “You’re thinking both of those things and the answer to the first is yes, even though you’re a dick, and the answer to the second is no, because you’ll never be more sure than you are right now.”
“She leaves her clothes on the floor.”
“Pick them up.”
“She doesn’t rinse the plates before putting them in the dishwasher.”
“Does the world come crashing down?”
“She wants a puppy.”
“Oh, I’m with you on this one,” I laugh. “Puppies are a lot of work.”
He cracks a grin. “I just worry . . . what if I can’t handle it? What if we go into this with different expectations and all of a sudden realize it’s wrong?”
“That’s impossible,” I scoff, heading to the door.
“How do you figure?”
“You love her, right?”
“Right.”
“Then how can it ever be wrong?”
He opens the door for me. “Not bad, little sister. Not bad.”
Camilla
“NO, NO MORE CHAMPAGNE,” I say, waving off the proffered glass. “Really. I’ve had enough.”
The server gives up and heads across the room to my mother and her friends. I watch him offer Paulina a drink and she takes it. Of course she does. I hope she chokes.
I turn to head to the patio for fresh air when I nearly bump into Daphne and Barron Monroe. Our parents have been acquaintances forever, although I don’t quite have an affinity for Daphne. She’s Barrett’s age, while Barron went to school with Sienna and I. He’s handsome, smart, wealthy . . . and he knows it.
“Careful,” he says, steading me by the elbow. He flashes me his best smile—the panty-dropper as Sienna calls it. “How are you tonight, Camilla?”
“I’m good. Tired,” I admit. “Have you two enjoyed your evening?”
“Yes, thank you for the invitation,” Daphne says. Or I think she says. It’s a bit of a slur. “I’m going to the patio, Bar-ron. Find me later?”
“Of course.”
She leaves us, wobbling on her heels.
“My sister could use a lesson or two from you about class,” Barron says, pulling out a chair. When I don’t sit, he cocks his head to the side. “You said you were tired.”
I didn’t plan on sitting, but it suddenly feels like an excellent idea. My feet almost sing as I sit and give them some relief. Barron sits across from me, looking all dapper in his black suit and yellow tie.
“Look,” he laughs, “we match.”
“You have good taste.”
“You are lovely tonight, Camilla. But, then again, you always are.”
“Thank you,” I blush. “You look handsome, per usual.”
“So,” he says, getting settled in his chair, “what are you doing next weekend?”
“Random,” I laugh. “I have no idea. Why?”
He considers my question, his long, thick lashes on display as he narrows his eyes. “I have a proposition.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“I have to go to Paris for a few days. It’s a long flight and I’ll have some time off to explore the city, and you know, I was thinking it would be fun to do that with you.”
My mouth hangs open as I try to process this out-of-left-field offer. “Um, Barron, I’m honored you’d like to take me to Paris with you. But the answer is no.”
“No? Come on, Camilla. Who doesn’t like Paris?”
“I love Paris,” I laugh. “That’s not the issue.”
His charm seeps away as his lips form a thin line. “What’s the issue?”
“I’m in a relationship.”
His eyes roll in his head. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard about your plumber boyfriend. I just didn’t expect you’d sink that low.”