Chapter 5 Aston #2
With a glass of champagne in my hand—the server practically forced it upon me as Madelina eyed me from across the room—I introduce myself like the perfect older brother.
I despise champagne, but any liquor at this point is needed.
My father insists on joining me, which I soon learn is to fabricate a story about Mom.
According to Madelina, Mom is on a flight back from Geneva at Father’s command.
Whatever happened, I’m sure my father was a prick, and Mom had no choice but to follow his orders.
“So, I guess we’re going to be family now.” Myles appears beside me, dressed in a navy suit with what appears to be whiskey in his glass. I scan the room to hunt down the server and request my beverage be switched immediately. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do at this thing.”
“You grin and bear it. According to my father, it’s proper etiquette to introduce two families upon the event of the marriage. You really had to propose to my sister, huh?” I tease, then rest my hand on his shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
“Let’s see. Your father has made it clear that grandchildren are a must. Not that my mother argued—quite the opposite. And I said, ‘How about we get through all the formalities first before kids are discussed?’?”
Myles drinks the whiskey in one gulp, then motions for the server. I don’t blame him—family events with overbearing parents can be brutal.
“I’m surprised you proposed so quickly,” I say, curious.
“Granddad is sick and it’s his dying wish to see me get married.” The previously upbeat tone of his voice shifts, but I pretend not to notice. “I love Madelina. We have a lot of fun at work.”
I nod, unsure how to respond, then his mother pulls him away to discuss some important matter. The room begins to fill with other family members. I thought this was supposed to be a small, intimate event until I see some friends of my father walk through the door.
Myles forces a smile as my father introduces him to a new round of strangers. I can’t fault the guy and don’t expect him to hurt my sister despite this proposal happening early in their relationship. His intentions appear legitimate.
His cousins, however, have tried to corner me several times. It didn’t take me long to figure out Madelina told them I was single. Sure, one is hot, but it would be a quick fuck and nothing else. Blond bob, white pantsuit, and frankly, uninteresting.
Something warns me not to mix wedding events with pleasure.
Ramona—as she introduced herself—is rambling on about her fashion company like I give a shit. I nod politely but scan the room, looking for an exit.
As my eyes wander near the door, a woman walks through alone.
I pause to observe her with curiosity. Her long, lean legs in black knee-high boots capture my attention, but soon, my eyes wander up her body to admire the rest of her.
I tilt my head with a smirk, and then it dawns on me that she looks familiar.
Everleigh.
Her hair isn’t long like back in high school—cut shorter, sitting at her shoulders in loose waves, but still the shade of brown with auburn tints when it caught the sunlight.
But it isn’t her hair that draws me to her.
It’s the face of a mature woman. Something about her stirs this unwanted emotion inside of me.
I quickly drop my gaze to the floor to curb these unnatural thoughts but find I’m unable to control myself, lifting my stare back to where she’s standing.
The burgundy dress she wears ends mid-thigh. I’m swift to notice her tits sitting nicely in the dress and curves in all the right places.
She is nothing like I remember.
Everleigh Woods is a woman now.
And a beautiful one.
Despite my ego fighting me on it.
She catches me staring, and without a doubt in my mind, Everleigh appears annoyed. Her lips press together, jaw clenched. That’s not a welcoming look.
Madelina steals her attention with what appears to be some dilemma. They both disappear out of the room only to return moments later. It gives me a minute to gain my bearings, finish this god-awful champagne, and excuse myself from Ramona and her boring chatter.
With Madelina by his side, Myles calls everyone’s attention, ready to commence what I assume is his speech. I glance to my right, where my father is conveniently standing with Roland Whitney.
“On behalf of my fiancée, Madelina, and me, we thank you for coming today,” Myles begins, with a glass of champagne in hand this time.
“We know many of you are surprised by how quickly things are happening, but rest assured, we want you to relax and enjoy all the festivities planned in the next few weeks.”
Myles continues to talk about his family before Roland takes over, followed by my father.
I zone out during my father’s speech about family values and find myself distracted by Everleigh.
Much like myself, she doesn’t seem impressed by my father’s lies but politely raises her glass upon his request. As soon as the toast is over, she drinks the entire glass of champagne, almost like she wishes she wasn’t here.
It doesn’t take her long to reach out for another glass as the server walks past.
To be honest, I don’t blame her.
This lunch is tiresome at best.
My father is quick to pull me into a conversation with Roland. It starts out rather casually until my father manipulates the topic, and somehow, we end up talking about business.
“Beaumont.” Roland pats my father on his shoulder. “Let’s celebrate the kids today, shall we? We have plenty of time to talk business after the wedding.”
My father displays his poker face, an expression I’ve seen time and time again when he’s annoyed but doesn’t want the opponent to see his cards. “Family first,” he responds with a counterfeit smile.
There isn’t enough liquor inside this room to alleviate the tension.
Eager to escape, I step outside onto the patio for fresh air, quickly deciding that a whiskey or bourbon would be much more satisfying.
There is a bar right next to the lobby serving all types of liquor. I make my way there, praying Madelina doesn’t hunt me down to pawn me off on some other damn cousin. As I enter the dimly lit bar, I stop in my tracks.
Everleigh is at the bar, talking to some guy, laughing. They appear to know each other. Then, I see him reach out to touch her arm. She doesn’t look fazed, more flattered by his attention.
I’ve been adulting long enough to know she’s fucked, or is about to fuck, this man. I watch with my teeth clenched, subjecting myself to whatever the hell is going on.
I should turn around and go back inside the restaurant.
What fool would stand here and watch his sister’s best friend with another man?
My feet are itching to move, eager to get away and pretend this doesn’t affect me whatsoever.
But something else is forcing me to watch. The same something else that made me look into her eyes that night at the party and kiss her like it was my last day on earth.
I take a breath, dispelling the burning sensation inside my chest, and force myself to leave.
Just like I did when I pulled away and pretended our kiss meant nothing.