Page 66 of Since Always

Me: No, I'll grab a car, it's fine.

Mom: Okay. Your brother and Stephanie are going to meet us for dinner tonight. They wanted to do a little family celebration of your birthday before your party tomorrow.

Me: Oh, good. That sounds perfect.

Mom: Owen was supposed to come too, but he texted me a little earlier and said he wasn't going to be able to fly out until tomorrow. Just thought you'd want to know.

I wince when I read the words. Maybe he just got busy, but if I know Owen I would bet that he is avoiding me after my stupid, messy phone call. And can I really blame him?

And just like that, the joy I was finally feeling for the first time in weeks evaporates, and the gold ball that I am carrying feels heavy all over again.

CHAPTER 22

Owen

Her party is at Violet, an upscale club in Denver. It's the type of place I used to love when I was in my twenties and an up-and-coming hotshot lawyer looking to drown the sorrows of my loss.

A lifetime ago.

There are a couple of paparazzi outside. We don't get a ton in Denver, but whoever there is to cover celebrity sightings somehow always knows when Becca Nicks is in town.

"Senator," one of them calls the second I step out of the car door.

"Hey guys," I smile and wave, giving them the shot they're looking for. I don't mind their presence in places I know they will be. It's the creeps who take long shots outside of my house that I hate. "Don't freeze to death. It's cold out here tonight."

They yell a couple questions at me, but I smile and step inside the broad doors of one of the city's skyscrapers. A young woman sitting behind a large receptionist's desk perks up a bit when she recognizes me. I nod to her and then step into the elevator and hit the button for the rooftop club. Within a few seconds, the doors are opening to reveal the large hostess area. Behind it, the party is already in full swing.

Violet spreads across the entire rooftop, with an impressive wall of 10-foot windows around the perimeter. Several feet above them sits a roof, held up by beams, allowing the full area to be covered and heated, while retaining an outdoor feeling. The 360-degree view of the city is incredible.

At one end of the club, there is a stage and DJ booth where a young DJ I should probably know the name of is playing dance music I have never heard before. Nothing makes you feel 90 years old more than a 23rd birthday party.

Around the edges of a dance floor there are low-slung tables. Cassidy's guests, some of whom I recognize, congregate in small groups, taking shots offered by cocktail servers.

"O," I turn to find the voice that calls to me. At one of tables in the corner Chris, Jessica, Stephanie, sit with a couple of family friends and Chris and Cassidy's grandparents.

"Owen," Jack Sloane's mother says, standing to give me a hug as I approach. "It's good to see you, son."

Her husband stands as well, shaking my hand. "It is. Mighty proud of you, boy. Even if you are playing for the wrong team."

"Dad," Jessica chides. "Stop it."

But I smile and hug both Betty and Carl Sloane carefully. "I've missed you both," I say.

"You know, you can't hold it against him that he's a Democrat. Your son was one too." Jessica says to her father-in-law.

"Don't remind me," Carl says, smiling. "I don't know what I did wrong."

"What are you guys doing tucked all the way back here?" I ask.

"This music is horrendous," Betty says

"That we can all agree on," Jessica nods.

"Besides," Jessica says. "This is Cass's night. We don't want to embarrass her."

"Speak for yourself," Chris says, and raises a glass.

"We will be leaving before too long, but we just wanted to make an appearance," Cass's grandma says.

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