Page 111 of The Thug And His Doll

He stumbles into his dad, his head snapping around as he looks for the woman singing. The hope in his eyes is plain to see, but that soon turns to shock as he looks past the guests, realisation dawning.

“What the hell?” I mutter, as shocked as Sterling clearly is as I twist in my seat following his gaze. The woman singing does so as she walks down the aisle in front of Melody, Robert’s bride. Dressed in a silver, floor length gown, and holding a bouquet of flowers, there’s no mistaking who she is. She’s the woman in Sterling’s painting.

She’s Friday Love.

“What’s the matter?” Lia whispers.

“Please don’t tell me that woman singing is Melody’s daughter,” I plead, twisting my head back around as I stare at Sterling who, given the range of emotions passing across his face, has come to the very same conclusion.

“Yes, we met her last night. Her name is Harlow, she’s lovely.”

“Oh fuck,” I exclaim.

“What’s wrong with Sterling? He’s been acting strange all day,” Lia observes a few hours later, her hand resting on my thigh as we watch the bride and groom step onto the dance floor.

The room is drenched in soft candlelight, the dance floor of the ballroom surrounded with round tables where the wedding guests sit watching the newlyweds take their first dance after finishing an extravagant five course meal.

Sterling is still seated at the head table, a troubled expression on his face. Harlow sits three seats over, her attention focussed on her mother and Robert as they begin to dance. She looks as tense as Sterling, her hand grasping the delicate stem of her champagne glass as the magazine photographer starts snapping pics of Robert and Melody, as well as members of the wedding party. I can only imagine the thoughts running rampant through Sterling’s head. The woman he slept with is now his stepsister. You couldn’t make this shit up.

“It’s complicated,” I begin, chewing on my lip.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Lia observes, tapping Toby’s arm as he reaches for another cake from the tiered cake stand. “That’s enough, Toby.”

“But Mama, they’re so good,” he replies, smacking his lips in a way that makes me laugh. He has thoroughly enjoyed all the food we’ve eaten tonight, including the two small cakes he’s already demolished.

“No more, okay? I don’t want you getting sick,” she warns him.

“Okay, Mama,” he agrees, withdrawing his hand as she presses a kiss to the top of his head.

A rush of pride floods my veins as I watch them. Toby has behaved impeccably today, and I couldn’t love him any more even if he were my own flesh and blood. When Robert introduced himself to Lia after the ceremony and started firing questions at her, she had held her own with grace and humility. I know he was impressed by her, and his offer of joining them both for dinner at his mansion once they’d returned from their honeymoon is the equivalent to winning the lottery to some of the fuckers in attendance here tonight. I’ve never felt more proud to stand by her side, not because of the invite, but because she had shone with confidence and self-worth.

It only makes what I’m about to do even harder.

I glance at my wristwatch, it’s almost eight pm, and in a few minutes Lia and I will take Toby up to the suite we’re staying in tonight to put him to bed. My plan is to tell her everything once Toby’s fallen asleep, and every second that counts down to that moment feels like a dagger piercing my heart. I rub at the ache in my chest, trying to ease the swelling pain.

Daisy’s laughter drags me out of my depressing thoughts as she talks with one of the wedding guests seated at our table. He’s a business associate of Robert’s. Some twenty-something entrepreneur who’s as obnoxious as most of the other guests here tonight, and just as fucking vacuous. I don’t dislike him because he’s taken an interest in Daisy, I dislike him because he’s bragged nonstop about his achievements. I can respect confidence, but arrogance? Not so much.

Across the table, Dalton watches their interaction with a scowl on his face, clearly feeling the same about this man as me. He has completely ignored the woman sitting next to him, despite her flirting with him all night. Frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t slipped off with her already. She seems like his type. Tall, slim, model-esq, and from a well-to-do family, I’ve no doubt Carl had some influence over the fact she has been placed next to him at the table.

“So… Sterling,” Lia says, resting her arm on mine.

“I’ll tell you about it later. Too many people,” I reply, covering her fingers with my own.

She nods in understanding. “Okay.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Walter suddenly announces into the microphone, drawing our attention his way. “The bride and groom ask that you now join them on the dance floor. So gather your loved one and let’s get this party underway!”

My gaze flicks to Sterling, who pushes up from his seat, trying to make a swift exit, but Walter notices, and says, “Sterling, your father and stepmother would like you and Harlow to join them too.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, feeling for my friend.

Sterling grips the back of his chair and for a second I think he’s going to bolt, but instead he strides towards Harlow, holding out his hand. Their eyes meet, and if you didn’t know their history like I do, you’d assume that they were acting this awkwardly because of their new relationship, not because they’d fucked. She takes his hand, and I force myself to look away. He doesn’t need me ogling them just like the rest of the arseholes here are doing.

“Would you like to dance, Daisy?” the prick, who’s been chatting up my sister, asks as some of the other wedding guests walk onto the dance floor.

Daisy grins. “Sure, I’d love to”

I glance at Dalton who understands what I don’t say. He gets to his feet, rounding the table, before clearing his throat. “Actually, I think the honour is mine. Daisy?”

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