Page 39 of Release Me
Ivy splutters. ‘No way! It must be a Beckett thing. Caelon is the exact same.’
I’m just wondering if Rian feels the same way when Ivy plucks the thought right out of my head.
‘How does Rian feel about masturbation?’ Ivy wiggles her eyebrows at me.
‘How would I know?’ I swat the air in front of my face.
‘Given what you told us about your prick of a husband earlier, perhaps it’s time you found out?’ Avery’s huge blue eyes bore into mine. Her expression, unlike Ivy’s, is deadly serious.
‘I couldn't.’ I shake my head.
‘But you’d like to,’ she presses. It isn't a question. She pulls her panties back up and goes to the sink to wash her hands. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
‘What I’d like to do is irrelevant. Just because one person behaves badly, it doesn’t mean both do. What would be left?’
Ivy shakes her head sadly. ‘From where I’m standing, honey, it doesn’t look like there’s a whole lot there to start with.’
Chapter Sixteen
RIAN
Christmas at the Beckett’s is always an exciting affair, but thankfully this year’s excitement is my nieces and nephews wreaking havoc rather than someone breaking into our house to leave calla lilies. It’s a long story. One we’d all rather put behind us. Especially Killian and Avery. They’re curled up in front of one of the leather couches in front of the fire after a mammoth Christmas dinner. It’s the one day of the year my mother insists on cooking herself. All the staff—except security staff—have the day off.
Avery’s clutching a glass of my family’s champagne, Killian’s sipping my family’s whiskey. Whatever he whispers into her ear puts a giant smile on her face.
Jealousy stabs my sternum.
Not because I have any affection for Avery—not like that anyway.
But because I long for what they have. But with my heart so invested in a woman who’s already taken, it’s hard to imagine that’ll ever be a possibility for me.
My mother, Vivienne, and father, Alexander, are watching Scarlett and James sitting on the floor playing Monopoly—the Irish version—with their daughters, Harper and Halle, and Caelon and Ivy’s kids, Orla and Owen. James Junior is stuck to Scarlett’s chest. Caelon Junior is stuck to Ivy’s.
The sixteen foot Christmas tree twinkles from the corner of the room, flames lick and crack over the logs in the large open fireplace, and the scent of roast turkey and pine fills the air, but yet I still don’t feel festive.
Something’s missing.
Someone.
Where is she today?
Are they at Anthony’s parents’?
He normally calls me every Christmas. Has done since we were kids, but today, I’ve heard nothing. Part of me wants to ring him, but part of me welcomes the distance forming between us over the past month. I’m not sure if it’s because we’ve grown into two very different men, or because he’s starting to get the inkling I have feelings for his wife.
It should bother me, but today, I can’t bring myself to care.
I help myself to another large glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the sideboard and turn to Sean. He and Layla are standing at the huge windows overlooking the frost dusted lawn. I nod towards the babies at their mother’s breasts. ‘One thing about Beckett boys—we all love the boobs. I swear it’s innately woven into our DNA.’
‘Rian!’ my mother scolds from across the room. Her eyesight might be wavering slightly but there’s certainly nothing wrong with her ears.
‘Is that all you ever think about?’ Sean snorts, and Layla shakes her head. Hard to believe this woman is the daughter of the King and Queen of England, even if they no longer recognise her as that. Despite being raised in a palace, Layla is so down to earth.
‘So when are you guys going to tie the knot?’ I motion to the giant diamond ring on Layla’s fourth finger.
‘We’re in no rush,’ Layla says, twisting her face up to gaze at Sean.
‘Well, if you need a best man.’ I shrug, ‘We all know that’s me,’ I joke, swirling my whiskey around the tumbler.
