Page 30 of Worth Every Moment
I hit the wall one more time, then lay both palms against it and let my head hang as I wait for my breathing to return to normal.
If there’s one good thing that’s come from all this, it’s that I finally understand I never stood a chance with Erica Lefroy. She thinks I’m ajoke, and, despite what happened between us tonight, I know I’ll never be good enough for her.
I contemplate going straight home, then reason that I’m not going to let Erica ruin my evening. I make my way down to the reception, but her perfume lingers in the air, triggering an onslaught of memories; her skin, her mouth, her tongue… her goddamn pussy.Fuck’s sake.
Entering the main hall again, I grab a champagne flute from a nearby tray. The server’s eyebrows rise as I swallow the contents in one fluid motion and return the empty glass to his tray.
Even though I try not to, I can’t help scanning the crowd for Erica.Is she still here? Did she leave?
I refuse to think about her, but I cannot shed the bad mood that’s clinging to me. And I amneverill-tempered.
This is unprecedented.
I grab another champagne flute, then search the room for someone—anyone—to take my mind off Erica. It should probably be Harriet, but I can’t see her either. She probably left. I spot an attractive blonde standing in front of a huge abstract nude. She’ll do.
I force a smile and head in her direction. If Erica’s still here and sees me flirting, so much the better.
But before I reach the blonde, my brother, Nico, strides into view, making a direct beeline for me. The haunted expression on his face, the near horror in his eyes, has me halting. I know, as if he’s communicated it to me through some means other than words, that someone is dead, or soon will be.
“It’s our father,” Nico says, laying a hand on my forearm, and without giving me any time to prepare myself, he adds, “A heart attack.”
“Shit.” Even though I guessed something like this was coming, the reality is a punch to the gut. “Is the old man dead?”
“Worse.” Nico gives a grim nod. “He’s asking for you.”
11
SEB
Afew days after the party at the gallery, I find myself waiting outside my father’s private suite in his London home. I don’t know what state he’s in, but given he’s no longer in hospital and he only wanted to see me, not Matt or Nico, neither of whom had any interest in accompanying me to check on the cold bastard, he can’t be that bad.
Ordinarily, I’d have told Erica about Dad nearly dying, even though we’re under instruction not to mention his health outside the family. She’s the first call I would have made. But we haven’t been in contact since we fought, and I’m not about to open a message thread with, ‘My dad nearly died and I’m not sure I give a fuck’.
Erica’s vicious words at the gallery have plagued my dreams. But as much as I want to hate her for them, I can’t. A lot of what she said was true, and whenever I allow myself to reflect on what happened between us, my mind fills with recriminations. I pushed her too far. I shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have kissed her, tasted her… shouldn’t have given in to temptation, because I’ve ruined everything we had.
I’ve fucked it all up.
Sighing, I lean against the designer wallpaper and stare up at the crystal chandelier overhead. I hate this house. Huge, stuffy, incredible views, prime real estate. But full of miserable memories. When we weren’t at boarding school, we’d stay here for the holidays and Dad would fuck the nanny, the housekeeper… anyone who was available. Mum would sit in her room crying, and Nico would pass notes under her door.Are you okay, Mummy? We love you. Then he’d sign them from all of us.Nico, Matt, and Seb.
She never answered a single one.
Matt would punch walls and refuse to talk to anyone and I’d be left making jokes, trying to break the tension. As a kid, it was the only thing I could offer to lighten the mood. Maybe if I could make someone smile, we wouldn’t all feel like we were dying. It was idealistic and naive, but I really thought there was a chance I could do it. Heal the whole fucking family with laughter. I failed, miserably.
I lean against the wall, trying to ignore the unpleasant memories about the years I spent here as a kid.
I pull out my phone and begin to scroll. It’s two seconds before the algorithm brings me a video of Erica falling on the runway, and me jumping up to help her. She looks so beautiful, and simultaneously so helpless, that something—my heart?—physically hurts inside my chest. I’d rewind time to get to that point if I could. Before the naked photos arrived on my phone when I was sitting next to her. Before the gallery. Before I knew what her pussy tastes like.
Hmm. Maybe I wouldn’t rewind that far, actually. I like that I know what she tastes like. That she hasn’t a scrap of hair down there. I like that I can remember how soft and wet her pussy felt when I had my fingers in it. That I could smell her on them, even after she ran away from me.
I don’t think I could give those memories up. But they’re fading anyway. I can’t hold them perfectly in my mind, can’t catch her scent on me anymore.
I must stop thinking about her because, even after our fight, the thought of her still turns me on. My dick is thickening, and the last thing I need is a hard-on when my father finally calls me into his room.
I haul my attention back to the video on my phone. It’s been liked thousands of times and saved almost as many. Erica’s been tagged but hasn’t responded.
The comments are in the thousands too. I scroll through. Some of them are inane. Others make my chest tighten, but one in particular has my attention.
5.5 seconds. Pause and look at the way she’s looking at him.
