I make my way over to Coop just as Demetri heads our way with that plastered-on smile.
“Logan Oliver. Holiday greetings.” Demetri looks to Gage. “I’m sure you’ve congratulated my son on the new offspring.” His lips twist my way. “I suppose this secures the win for you. I’m sure Skyla and you will be procreating soon enough. You’ve always felt the need to keep up with my son. Hoping for twins?”
Gage growls at his father. But, in all honesty, I’m a bit amused. It’s almost as if he’s goading Gage. Demetri knows I don’t give a shit about anything he has to say.
Skyla comes up with Laken and Wes just as Michelle helps Chloe over.
I glance to Skyla and my heart breaks when I spot that crestfallen look on her face.
Chloe chokes and sputters. “She’s killing me, Gage.” She points a crooked finger at Skyla. “She’s commissioned that cursed bird. I can’t keep a damn thing down. Do something, Demetri—God knows Gage still has his head up her ass.” A horrible moan comes from Chloe before she begins in on a violent retching session.
Demetri steps forward, but Gage holds his arm out.
“No,” Gage belts it out with fury. His eyes sharpen over Skyla’s, ripe with anger. “Enough, Skyla. Call off that damn bird, or I swear I’ll have it on a spit and delivered to Tad with a bow on it. Both Holden and Serena will be on the menu if you don’t stop this petty madness right now.”
Chloe pulls it together long enough to admire Gage, her champion.
But Skyla—her skin is white with shock, the false bravado she strode into the room with has dissipated, and she looks frightened, embarrassed, fit to kill out of sheer desperate need to hold onto her sanity.
Kresley bops over with a tiny prince in her arms, an exact replica of Nathan and Barron at that tender age. Kresley’s face has been fully restored and she’s a stunner with a nose that’s about three times too small for her face.
“What’d I miss?” She knocks her hip to Wesley’s and he takes up Eli in his arms. Wesley’s super sperm have yielded him an embarrassment of riches as far as children go.
Laken clears her throat. “Actually, you’re right on time. I have an announcement.” She looks to Demetri, then to Wes. “Wesley—we’re going to have another child. August—again.”
“A baby?” Wes lands his mitt over Laken’s stomach. “You and me?” he asks as if they’ve never had one before and I go to shoot Coop a knowing look, but he’s gone, just a ghost of himself standing there like a placeholder. Coop looks as if he died a year ago the exact day Laken went missing.
The crowd breaks out into an awkward cheer as Emma and Barron head over in time to hear the news. Soon enough, Emma is popping the bubbly and our small destructive circle disbands.
Poor Coop stands stunned near the bar, refilling his glass like he means it.
I swat Gage on the arm. “You piece of shit. Now I see why you invited the guy. Your wickedness really knows no bounds.”
Gage lifts an arm. “I swear I didn’t know.”
Ellis and Giselle walk in and the room explodes with the appropriate holiday greeting.
Ellis heads straight for Skyla and the two of them join Coop. I can’t help but note how divisive the room feels, how empty and lonely despite the body count.
“Can I ask you something?” I look to Gage, this seemingly innocent looking version of him, the exact replica of the boy I knew and loved. “Are you ever going to drop this act? Are you ever going to allow any of us to wake up from this nightmare?”
Gage inspects me a moment as if weighing his answer. “Yes, Logan. I am. In about a hundred years give or take a millennium.” He takes off for the bar as I reflect on that clusterfuck of words.
“What do you want?” Skyla growls up at him as she pours herself another drink.
“Visitation.” Gage barrels right in with his answer—no lube, just bend over.
Skyla nearly shoots the champagne from her nose. “Good luck with that, buddy.”
“I don’t need luck.” His lips bounce a short-lived smile. “I’ve retained Olivia Harrison’s services.” He nods to Ellis at the mention of his legal eagle mother. “She’s drawing up a visitation schedule. I get the boys on weekends.” He takes a breath as if it took something out of him to say it. “I want fifty-fifty come summer.”
“Gage,” Skyla wails, her voice fragile and pleading.
“It’s not happening.” I wrap an arm around Skyla and she bears her weight against me as if she needed me to hold her up. “We’ll fight it. I’ll invert every bank account I have to make it happen.”
Gage gives a single nod, his dimples dig in, no smile, and it’s as if he’s already gotten what he was after—Skyla in my arms, the two of us a united front—against him of all people. My God, it’s as if his every breath is monstrously calculated.
Emma calls us to the table and Laken helps Skyla to the restroom as the two of them leave the room.
