Page 51 of Release Me
I scan the bar from my position in the corner. I have adouble whiskey in front of me, and a file full of paperwork, but only so no one comes near me. I can legitimately look preoccupied when I’m pretending to sift through a mountain of invoices and proposals.
Soft electric pop fills the air. I warned the staff to stop playing Christmas songs already. They remind me of Rebekka now. Mind you, everything reminds me of Rebekka at the moment. I’ve even started listening to the same fucking bedtime affirmations she played, just to feel close to her somehow. I’m falling asleep with some deceased old lady whispering, ‘You are a gift to the world,’ in my ear.
Ha.
I’d gift Rebekka the world if things were different. But they’re not.
The large double doors slide open and, out of habit, my head shoots up. Stupidly, a part of me is hoping my sisters-in-law will rock up with their sexy, lonely friend, and I’ll get to pine over her in person.
My heart soars as I glimpse Avery and Ivy, then sinks equally fast as my brothers, Killian, Caelon and James follow them in. Layla, Sean, Zara and Scarlett are hot on their tail, and just when I think it can’t get any worse, my mother and father appear. An entourage of security surrounds them, each discreetly taking their positions around the bar.
‘If Mohammed can’t come to the mountain, the mountain will come to Mohammed,’ Caelon exclaims, striding over to the corner booth I’d snagged.
‘Mohammed’s working.’ I force the grin that everyone expects of me. The one that hides the magnitude of pain and pining. With every passing day, it’s getting harder and harder to keep the façade up. ‘Contrary to popular belief, I do actually work as well as party. I’m planning the grand reopening.’ I sweep a hand around the room. ‘The construction crew are coming in from the third of January.’
‘So, when’s the opening party?’ Ivy squeals, slipping her hand inside her husband’s as the rest of my family crowd around me, sliding into the booth.
‘February fourteenth.’ I turn to see who’s taken the seat beside me. My mother. God, I love the woman, but she is the only one in this family who sees through my bullshit, and I don’t have the strength to deal with the Spanish Inquisition today.
‘Oh, Valentine’s Day, Baby Beckett!,’ Avery clutches her chest. ‘How romantic.’
‘I think you’ll find the term is “marketable”,’ I say drily.
James heads to the bar to order a round of drinks, and the others strike up conversations among themselves.
‘Are you okay, son?’ My mother pats my arm gently. ‘We haven’t see you since Christmas Day. You rushed off so quickly after dinner.’
I kiss her cheek in a greeting. ‘I’m great, Mother, don’t worry about me. You’ll get wrinkles.’
‘Huh,’ she scoffs. ‘Not while Dr. Davidson is still alive.’ She winks at me and then pats her hair. ‘Congratulations on the new bar.’ She scans the décor, nodding her approval. ‘I like it.’
Caelon and Ivy squeeze into the booth on the other side of me. ‘Baby Beckett!’ Ivy pinches my cheek. ‘Where did you run off to on Christmas Day?’ She waggles her eyebrows.
‘To see a friend,’ I pick up my drink. I think I’m going to need it. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’
‘Oh, don’t be so coy.’ Avery slides in beside Ivy and Caelon, with Killian right beside her. ‘Is it anyone we know? Or did you just pull out that big old black book of phone numbers you keep in your back pocket?’
‘Speaking of friends,’ Ivy says to Avery, ‘have you heard from Rebekka?’ Concern taints her tone.
‘Not since Christmas morning,’ Avery’s face morphs into ascowl. ‘Can you believe her fucking prick of a husband went to Dubai for Christmas with his PA?’
My mother winces beside me.
‘Sorry, Mrs B!’ Avery turns to her future mother-in-law. ‘I know you don’t approve of the language, but if you knew what that man is putting her through, you’d probably say worse yourself.’
I sit back and sip my drink. Avery and Ivy’s big mouths are actually coming in useful for once. Because whether they realise it or not, they’re laying the foundations for Rebekka and me to have an actual chance at a relationship that my family might accept.
‘Anthony?’ My mother sounds shocked. ‘I find it hard to believe. I’ve known that boy since he was in nappies.’
‘Yes, and he never knew where to shit then; now he’s doing it on his own doorstep.’ I add.
‘You knew?’ Ivy exclaims, the accusation in her tone impossible to ignore.
I inhale deeply. ‘I know, and I hate him for it. We’ve been friends since we were kids, yet I barely recognise the man he’s grown into. Where do you think I went on Christmas Day?’
Ivy and Avery exchange a curious glance. ‘You spent Christmas with Rebekka?’
Guilt slivers into my stomach. If my family had any idea I spent Christmas giving Rebekka multiple orgasms, they’d think as badly of me as they do of Anthony.
