Page 42 of The Final Rose

“Oh, don’t you start with the Riggs bullshit!” She waved me off. “I want the dirt, Seb. Tell me.”

I give one more look to where Callie disappeared and then face my sister. “Can you imagine the consequences? I signed a contract, Bea.”

“Ah-ha!” she screams, pointing a finger at me.

“Don’t point your dirty finger at me, Beatrice,” I say, slapping it away.

I hold no respect, and my baby sister simply laughs away, “So, you like Callie.”

It went straight up my spine. “And Callie loves her job.”

Bea pouts. “This is so romantic, Seb. You falling for her is much better than anything I could think of. There’s no way around it?”

“It’s not like I have to marry one of the girls. But I can’t date Callie.”

And for the first time, I say what is bugging me. The words I wouldn’t dare to say even when I was alone: “I’d ruin her career. She loves her job. She’s bloody excellent at it.”

“Love that you curse now.”

“Oh, thank you. Arsehole is another one I’m quite fond of.”

“Lovely use of the language. Mother would be proud.”

I chuckle, and Bea follows. Shaking my head, I take a sip, looking around the pub. I remember when I wanted to go out for drinks, but my parents were always thinking about the press. They were scared I was going to be seen drinking and people would say all kinds of things about me.

Saying that a Riggs was off the rails.

Now it seems so far away, so stupid of me to ever believe their opinion mattered.

“You know everything our parents say is a lie, right?”

Bea’s eyebrow shoots up. “Oh, well, wild change of subject.”

I nod, agreeing, but I keep it up. “They are obsessed with how things look. But nothing will ever make them happy, so just be you. You know that, right?”

Bea tilts her head and reaches for my hand across the table. “Seb, you are the oldest. Their only son. Yes, Mum loves me in pearls and soft colors, but they don’t put that much pressure on me. Just maybe marry well.”

“Oh god,” I groan. “Marry whoever you want.Ifyou want.”

“I know.” She laughs. “I saw what they did to you, Seb. All the impossible standards. I hate them for that, and I’m glad you broke free.”

Sip from my pint, “Bloody hell.” I rake my hand through my hair. “Getting drunk and emotional, are we?”

“You’re just a pub commoner now.” She straightens up again, with a glint in her eyes. Across the pub I catch Callie coming back from the bathroom, and Bea rushes to say. “Now that you’re free, don’t let anyone say what you’re supposed to do, Seb. It’s Callie. I’m telling you. It’s Callie.”

I give the hotel’s address to the driver as soon as I’m in. Callie is by my side, red cheeks from the alcohol. I sent Bea in another car after she gave us both a warm hug and a suggestive nod toward Callie.

I can’t think about Bea’s words right now. I have too many pints in me, and while I’m not exactly drunk, I’m feeling too light and free. Nothing good comes from this lightness of spirit. Callie moves beside me, dropping her jacket off her shoulders.

“Is that the trick?” she asks when the car presses forward. “Drink until you’re not cold anymore?”

I laugh because she’s not wrong, but the laughter falls dead in my throat when she wiggles free of her jacket. Her tits shake inside that dress and my vision blurs.

We should have gone somewhere for tea instead. Somewhere with florals and old ladies. Without alcohol.

“I loved Bea,” Callie beams. “She’s the best.”

I clear my throat and look away. “I told you, you’d get on just fine.”

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