Page 35 of The Painter and His Poet

“Whatever the fuck is wrong, of course. You’ve been home for weeks now, Sterling, and I’ve barely seen you. We’ve missed you, all of us. What’s going on? I mean, apart from the obvious.”

“Where do I start?” I throw back.

“I know you’re still pissed at your dad for divorcing your mum, and I get that you’re on edge from having to listen to Harlow sing… But, I know you, something else is up. What gives?”

“Now’s not the time. I need to get through this shitshow first.”

He shrugs. “Fine, then I’ll join you in getting fucked on all the Veuve Cliquot,” he offers, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re dad’s spent a small fortune on this wedding, and I’m more than happy to sink a few bottles. We can have that chat later, yes?”

“Later,” I agree.

“Uh oh,” Benedict says, pulling a face.

“What now?”

“Your dad’s eyeing us up. Looks like you’re needed.”

“Sterling, come here.”

I tense up hearing my dad’s voice.

“Fuck sake,” I grumble.

“Good luck, mate,” Benedict offers, removing the empty glass from my hands, and passing me another glass of champagne.

“I’m going to fucking need it,” I reply, turning on my heel and heading towards my arsehole dad and his new bride.

“Sterling, I’d like you to officially meet my wife, Melody,” my father says proudly.

I ignore the surprised glances thrown our way from the guests mingling around us, because fuck him and his manipulative ways. He’s always been so adept at spinning a story to suit his needs to make him look like a fucking martyr, and me thedifficultson. This is no different, and honestly, I don’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks.

“Melody,” I say with about as much enthusiasm as a criminal on death row heading towards the electric chair.

She smiles at me and her eyes, so similar to Harlow’s, sparkle with happiness. Knowing my father, that happiness will be short lived. If I had it in me to feel sorry for her, I would, but I don’t. She’s my mother’s replacement after all.

“I’m so glad you decided to come to our wedding,” she exclaims, her gaze roving over me before she leans in and presses a kiss against my cheek. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

Swallowing my cutting retort, I simply nod. I’m not one for small talk with strangers at the best of times, and right now the last thing I want to do is exchange niceties with my dad’s new wife. I don’t give a fuck if that makes her uncomfortable.

“Well, I suppose I ought to introduce you to my daughter,” Melody adds after a prolonged, and very awkward, silence. “She’s been dying to meet you.”

“Has she?” I question, meeting my father’s hard gaze as he glares at me, my flippant response needling him.

Part of me wants to inform them that we’re already very well acquainted, the spitefulness my father so easily draws out of me rising to the surface, but I reign myself in. Now’s not the right time. It’ll never be the right time to tell them both that their children have fucked.

“Harlow, come here will you?” Melody calls, waving her over.

My whole body stiffens. I’m not nearly ready to have her in such close proximity again. I need a lot more alcohol than a couple of glasses of champagne to get through this fucking nightmare.

“Congratulations, Mom, Robert,” Harlow says softly as she steps into my periphery, her familiar scent wafting under my nose. I swallow a moan, forcing myself not to react.

“Thank you, darling. We’re so unbelievably happy,” Melody replies, her gaze flicking between us both. A small frown appears between her brows as she senses the tension, assuming it’s because we’ve only just been introduced.

“You sang beautifully,” my father adds, dropping a kiss to Harlow’s cheek, before glancing at me pointedly, unable to hide his fucking delight. “Didn’t she, Sterling?”

“Yes,” I grind out, vibrating with the very real need to get the fuck out of this place.

The truth is, she sang like an angel. It was torturous, and he fucking knows it.

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