Page 37 of False God

I fight the strong urge to step back and maintain the same amount of distance between us.

“Elizabeth, I?—”

“You must be Charles Marlborough.” Kit is buttoning his jacket as he jogs down the staircase.

I stiffen, shooting my brother a warning look as he approaches us.

One he pays no attention to. “I’m Kit Kensington. Heard a lot about you.”

I tense even more.

Surprisingly, so does Charlie. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a jump in the firm muscles of his jaw.

“Nice to meet you, Kit.”

They shake hands.

“You played well yesterday,” Kit comments.

The praise isn’t aimed at me. He might have joined my defense against Gigi at breakfast, but my brother is otherwise uninterested in complimenting me. And I’m annoyed he’s interested in complimenting Charlie.

“You fell off the horse last time you played,” I remind my brother.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Kit retorts. “Come on, Charles. I’ll introduce you around.”

I have to work at hiding my shock. Kit makes friends easily, but I didn’t expect him to embrace Charlie so quickly.

What is it with this guy becoming buddy-buddy with my brothers?

Charlie doesn’t follow Kit right away. He holds out the flowers. “These are for you,” he says quietly.

Damn his crisp accent. It’s consuming, just like his unflinching gaze and intoxicating smell. It takes me a few seconds to remember, one, I’m mad at him; two, my plan was to avoid him; and, three, he’s not single. This bouquet is just a half-assed apology for what he now knows I heard him say about me last summer. Remorse minus admittance.

I force out a “Thank you.” The relief that my voice sounds normal is smothered by the swarm of butterflies that appearswhen his thumb brushes my knuckles during the transfer of flowers.

“You’re welcome.”

“Come on, Charles. Lili likes to make a grand entrance. Alone.” Kit’s no longer trying to annoy me. He’s just impatient.

Charlie is fighting a smile. The sight of him struggling against amusement—even at my expense—does something strange to my insides. My chest squeezes tight, and my stomach spins as he heads toward the wall of French doors that open out onto the patio surrounding the pool.

“Guy brought you flowers. What anasshole,” Kit whispers.

I flip him off.

Kit chuckles, then saunters after Charlie.

I stop in the butler’s pantry to find a crystal vase for the flowers. A petty urge has me considering letting them wither, but it’s not like I can toss the shriveled blooms in Charlie’s face. Not without causing a scene and giving my grandmother a conniption at least. So, I snip the ends and make sure the water is lukewarm before setting the vase in a patch of sunlight on the marble counter.

There’s no sign of Kit or Charlie when I walk onto the patio. My brothers tend to be the ringleaders of a less formal party amid my grandmother’s annual bash. When I was younger, I’d participate, but expectations are different now. Ones Kit has always had an easier time ignoring. The only reason he spent any time by the pool last year was because my college roommate was visiting and Kit had a massive crush on her.

This year, most of my friends are missing. We’re leaving for Chloe’s wedding tomorrow, so Bridget, Fran, and Jasper all opted to stay in the city for the holiday weekend.

Tripp and Hugo are standing by the buffet table, talking to a bunch of other guys I recognize. I head in the opposite direction, toward one of the bars that’s been set up throughout the yard.I’ve been outside for less than a minute, and I can already feel sweat prickling the back of my neck and small of my back.

Aunt Hannah is accepting a glass of wine from the bartender. She’s changed since this afternoon, now wearing one of Mom’s designs—a blue-and-white-patterned sundress—and her fingernails are painted bright crimson. Gigi would approve.

She glances over as I approach. Smiles. “Nice dress.”

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