Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
C ooper
Ethan and I are at our favorite little hole-in-the-wall bar on Nantucket when the text comes in. We read it, then stare at each other before busting up.
It’s paired with a screenshot from the maps app of a popular nightclub in town. He’s here. He’s on Nantucket. They must be renting a place.
“God, I miss that kid.” Ethan sighs.
“Me too. Should we go?” I set the phone on the table.
He’s the one who got dumped, so I’m letting this one be his call, but I’ll be pretty devastated if I miss Chandler’s twenty-first birthday.
The kid talked about it insensately, arguing with his parents that people with down syndrome can drink, same as anybody else.
Ethan’s eyes take on a devilish glimmer. “I think we have to.”
Thank God.
If Chandler asks us to do something, we’re doing it.
“Let’s go.” I jump to my feet.
Chandler is the only Laurence still in touch with us. We try to keep things short with him, but we never ignore him even though we haven’t seen him since the day of Mom’s funeral.
“You remember when we promised we’d take him out when he turned twenty-one?” Ethan asks, and I have no memory of any such thing.
“Nope,” I say.
Ethan frowns. “Maybe it was a conversation with me and Sybil. I don’t know.” He rubs his jaw, worry darkening his eyes to storm clouds. “Do you think she’ll be there?”
We climb into the car, and I grimace at my brother. He doesn’t know I ran into her last month. “I do, but we should make an appearance for Chandler’s sake. If Sybil makes you uncomfortable, we’ll keep our distance or leave.”
Ethan puts the car into gear. “I didn’t even realize they were on the island.”
Guilt eats me up. I should have warned him.
“You’re the designated driver later,” Ethan states. “As soon as I see Sybil, I’m going to drink. Heavily.”
Well, shit. It’s going to be hard as fuck to stay sober with her around. How else am I going to drown out the pain? If I can’t handle myself, we’ll call a cab and pick up the car in the morning.
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking into the club, right past the doorman—we handed the bouncer a wad of crisp hundred-dollar bills to skip the line.
We work our way through the crowd until we spot Chandler alone with an empty beer glass and a dazed smile.
He’s watching the dance floor, and I’m sure he’s thinking about getting up there and showing everyone how it’s done.
The kid loves to dance. Nothing technical or classical, just wild and free like an inflatable wind air dancer in front of a tire shop.
“Hey buddy, happy birthday,” I say, and he jumps up, his grin growing as wide as ever.
“Cooper!” He’s got a small build, but his vice-like hug is world famous. It nearly knocks the wind out of me, but he quickly moves to my brother. “And Ethan, my favorite person.”
I bark out a laugh. Ethan is his favorite, and he’s shameless about letting everyone know. The only person he idolizes more is his own father. I wonder if that’s changed since everything happened, but I have a suspicion nobody told him about the affair. We certainly haven’t said anything.
“How’s it going?” Ethan asks, and the two get straight to talking as we sit.
My gaze zeroes in on the bar area, searching for Sybil. She’s got to be here. She would never let Chandler come alone.
I sure hope it’s her and not Gregory. I wouldn’t mind seeing Amelia, but there’s no way I can be cordial with that prick.
“You’re not alone, are you?” I interrupt the guys.
“Sybil brought me,” he confirms. “She’s buying me another beer. Says I can’t mix it with tequila or other stuff. Just beers tonight.”
“Your sister is smart. Listen to her,” Ethan says, but his tone has dropped considerably, and his restless eyes dart to mine. I know he’s nervous about seeing his ex.
Quite frankly, so am I.
When she gets her pretty ass back here, I’m going to pretend I don’t have a care in the fucking world, like she didn’t rip Ethan’s heart out and stomp on it with her designer heels. Like she didn’t destroy my heart in the process.
The hardest part? I don’t feel like I have a right to miss her like Ethan does.
“So, your parents are okay with you drinking?” Ethan asks.
Chandler rolls his eyes. “It’s legal. I can do what I want.”
Ethan holds up his hands. “I’m not judging. I was only checking.”
“I know the risks,” he says, gripping the edge of the table and raising his voice. “My parents made me go to a doctor a few months ago to make sure it would be okay for me, and the doctor said it was fine as long as I don’t drink too much.”
I hate to see him agitated, so I pat his round shoulder and give him a wink. “Don’t worry, we’re not here to stop you. We just want you safe. That’s all.”
Maybe I’m ignorant, but I would rather Chandler not drink at all. I know firsthand how addicting it can be—how easy it is to fall into bad habits with something that numbs the emotions.
At least he’s got Syb here to take care of him.
And us.
Helpful for him, but not for me, considering I can’t stop looking toward the bar, searching for her in the crowd, simultaneously dying to see her and not wanting to see her.
Then there she is, her brother’s beer in one hand and an ice water in the other. She falters when she sees us, mixed emotions rippling across her face like deep ocean currents. She straightens her shoulders as she approaches with a murderous expression.
God, she’s beautiful when she’s mad. She’s stunning in a way that makes my chest ache. Dressed in a little black dress, she’s got the attention of every male in here, but she acts like she couldn’t care less as she marches toward us.
“Cooper and Ethan,” she says coolly, her eyes flashing emerald as they jump from me to my brother. “Crossing boundaries, I see. What are you doing here?”
“I invited them,” Chandler announces, giving her a death-glare of his own.
Atta-boy.
“Yup, we were invited,” I supply nonchalantly. “We wouldn’t miss Chandler’s twenty-first birthday for anything, not even your boundaries . Isn’t that right, Ethan?”
Ethan sits up taller, but his voice is strained. “That’s right.”
Sybil is still standing, towering over us, when Chandler reaches out to grab the beer in her hand. After weighing her options, she passes him the drink and sits next to him with a pout.
I return Sybil’s charged look with a completely unaffected one of my own, even though I’m equally pissed off. Ethan, however, isn’t so good at hiding his feelings. My boy looks completely shattered .
Fuck.
Thank God Chandler cracks a joke. “Tastes so bad but feels so good,” he says after taking a long swallow of the beer and following it with an exaggerated sigh.
“The world is your oyster now, kid,” I confirm, and Ethan and Sybil both shoot me annoyed glares.
I hold up my hands. “What? You heard the man. He’s going to be responsible. That’s more than any of us can say. Do you remember what we did for our twenty-firsts?”
“Still putting your foot in your mouth, aren’t you?” Sybil hisses.
Yeah, maybe . “I need a drink.” I step away. “Do you want anything, Ethan?”
Ethan holds my gaze for a long moment. “I take it we’re calling a car tonight?”
I nod like the functioning-alcoholic I’ve become lately.
“That’s fine with me,” Ethan confirms. “I’ll get whatever you get, but please make sure it’s strong.”
Amen to that.
Making my way to the bar, I can’t help but wonder about Chandler’s intentions tonight. Does he think getting Ethan and Sybil in the same room will get them back together? It’s not the worst plan.
The thought of having to endure them as a couple again makes me want to vomit. Then again, I want her in my life. I want things to be how they were compared to how they are now. Truth is, I’m just as fucked up about this girl as my brother is, and I’d rather lose her to him than lose her entirely.
The bar is crowded, and it takes forever to get drinks.
This isn’t one of those clubs that has good waitstaff and tables like in Manhattan.
It’s definitely a wait-in-line kind of establishment, but I’m grateful for that.
I don’t want to sit and listen to whatever conversation is happening at that table, or more likely, the long awkward silences stretching out between Chandler’s attempts to make things better.
Things are never going to be better.
I end up with two double whiskeys and return to the table, trying not to glower at the way Ethan and Sybil have their heads leaned close while they talk. I set his drink down a little too forcefully, and the pair jump apart.
“Here you go,” I seethe.
“Thanks.” Ethan doesn’t seem to give a shit that I’m pissed off.
Whiskey is one that’s best drunk slow and steady, but my brother treats it like a cheap shot, downing it remarkably quickly. Then he stands as I’m sitting.
“Where are you going?” Sybil asks Ethan, her tone borderline angry.
Ethan doesn’t answer, his shoulders rigid as he strolls to the dance floor. It takes less than a minute for him to find an attractive girl to dance with.
Chandler’s staring after them like Ethan just took his birthday cake and threw it against the wall. I reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Hey, don’t worry about it. They broke up, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Right, Sybil?”
“Right,” she says, lying straight through her teeth.
“You ready to get out there?” I ask Chandler with a wink, and he perks right up.
We finish our drinks, Sybil sticking to her water, and the whiskey numbs me enough to get through this evening without causing a scene.
Are we going to be friends with Sybil after tonight?
Nope, but her decision to ice us out doesn’t mean I can’t make sure Chandler has the best fucking birthday of his life.