As Richard began sputtering things, Samuel T. leaned in and kissed Gin on the cheek. “You win,” he whispered in her ear.
Turning away from the happy couple, he went back to his buddies. Grabbed two mint juleps from a passing waiter. Drank them as if they were water.
“What’s on your face?” someone asked him.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re leaking.”
He passed a hand over the eye that was itching and frowned as he saw the wetness. “I got splashed with a drink over there.”
One of his fraternity brothers barked out a laugh. “Some female finally throw one in your face? About time!”
“I got what I deserved, all right,” he said numbly as he grabbed his third julep. “But have no fear, gentlemen. I’m getting back on the horse.”
The table roared, men backslapping him, somebody pulling over a woman and shoving her forward. As she put her arms around his neck and leaned in to his body, he took what was offered, kissing her deeply, feeling her up even though they were in public.
“Oh, Samuel T.,” she whispered against his mouth. “I’ve waited for you to do this to me forever.”
“Me, too, darlin’. Me, too.”
She didn’t know him well enough to recognize the dead tone in his voice. And he couldn’t have cared less about the enthusiasm in hers.
He had to save face somehow … or he wasn’t going to be able to live in his skin for one goddamn minute longer.
Gin was so much better at this game than he was. If she hadn’t just succeeded in shattering his heart into a thousand pieces, he would have given her props.
As Lane pulled Mack’s pickup truck through the stone pillars of the Red & Black Stables, the alley of trees before him seemed a hundred miles long, the cluster of stables and buildings so far off in the distance, they might as well have been in a different state.
Proceeding forward, dust kicked up behind him, boiling in the morning light.
He knew this because he kept checking the rearview to make sure he hadn’t been followed.
The cobblestone drive circled in front of the biggest of the barns, and he parked off to the side, half on the grass. No reason to lock up as he got out. Hell, he left the keys in the ignition.
One deep breath in and he was back in his childhood, when he’d come out here to muck stalls during his summers off from prep school. His grandparents had believed in instilling a good work ethic. His parents had been less concerned with so much.
Heading over to the caretaker’s cottage, it was difficult to believe his brother really lived in such modest quarters. Edward had always been a force of energy in the world, moving, always moving, a conqueror constantly looking for victory, whether it was in sports, in business, with women.
And now … this little building? This was it?
When Lane came up to the door, he knocked on the screen’s frame. “Edward? You in there, Edward?”
As if he could be anywhere else?
Bang, bang, bang. “Edward? It’s me—”
“Lane?” came a muffled voice.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s me. I need to talk to you.”
“Hold on.”
When the door eventually opened, Lane saw his grandfather standing before him, not his brother: Edward was so thin that his jeans hung like old-man pants from his hip bones, and he was slightly hunched, as if the pain he’d suffered had permanently shifted his spine toward the fetal position.
“Edward …”
He got a grunt in return and some hand motions indicating it was up to him to open the sceen and come inside.
“Pardon me while I sit back down,” Edward said as he made his way over to the chair he’d clearly been in. “Standing is not agreeable.”
The groan was almost stifled as he lowered himself into position.
Lane shut the door. Put his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Tried not to stare at his brother’s ruined face. “So …”
“Please don’t bother commenting upon how well I look.”
“I …”
“In fact, let’s just nod and you can go. No doubt Miss Aurora made you come here so that you could attest to the fact that I’m still breathing.”
“She’s not well.”
That got his brother’s attention. “How so?”
The story came out quickly: ER, looked fine afterward, still working the brunch.
Edward’s eyes drifted away. “That’s her, all right. She’s going to outlive the rest of us.”
“I think she’d like to see you.”
“I will never go back to that house.”
“She could come out here.”
After a long moment, that stare swung back. “Do you honestly think that being anywhere near me would do her good?” Before Lane could comment, Edward continued, “Besides, I’m not one for visitors. Speaking of entertaining, why aren’t you enjoying The Derby Brunch? I got an invitation, which I found a bit ironic. I didn’t bother to RSVP—a horrid breach of manners, but in my new incarnation, social pleasantries are anachronisms from another life.”
Lane walked around, looking at the trophies.
“What’s on your mind?” Edward asked. “You are never without words.”