Dominick: You should ask Brielle.She mentioned going to the country club tonight.
With Bri leaving for college at eighteen and then moving to Russia to live with our grandparents after she was raped by Anthony and then forced to have an abortion, thanks to Andrey, it feels like she came home a completely different person. We talk, but we aren’t close, and I’d like to change that … and I also don’t want to go home.
So, I voice-text her, asking if she wants to meet for a drink at North Harbor Point Country Club.
Bri: You’re willingly going to the country club?
Me: Only for my favorite sibling.
Bri: So, in other words, you asked Dominick, and he turned you down, and I’m your backup.
I bark out a laugh.
Me: Deep down, you were my first choice.
She sends me five middle-finger emojis and then another text, saying she’ll meet me there soon.
When I arrive, I find a seat in the corner of the bar and order a whiskey neat. Bri arrives a few minutes later, sauntering toward me in a tiny black dress and her signature red-soled black heels with her hair and makeup done.
“You didn’t have to put forth all that effort for me,” I joke when she slides onto the seat next to me.
She snorts out a laugh. “I’ll have my usual,” she says to the bartender, who’s looking at her like he wants to eat her.
“One whiskey sour coming up,” the bartender says with a wink.
“Ugh.” I gag. “Did you fuck the bartender?”
She glares my way. “No, we went on a date, and it won’t happen again.”
The bartender places her drink in front of her, and for a few minutes, we sip our drinks, neither of us saying anything.
“So, what’s going on with you?” she finally asks. When I quirk a brow, she rolls her eyes. “I know we don’t talk about our feelings in this family, but I’ve been home for almost a year now, and you’ve never invited me out for a drink before. I know I wasn’t your first choice, but for you to invite me at all must mean you were either desperate for company or you don’t want to go home.”
“Speaking of home … How are you doing?” I ask, evading her question and the fact that she hit the nail on the head. “I’m sure it’s been an adjustment, being back after being gone for so long.”
“Okay, so we’re going with avoidance. Got it.” She takes a sip of her drink, places it back on the coaster, and then says, “Watch and learn how to properly communicate, big bro. I’m doing okay. It’s sometimes hard, living with Dominick and Peyton and their perfect little family.”
She sighs, and I set my drink down to give her my full attention.
“It’s been over five years since Andrey killed my boyfriend and then forced me to kill my unborn baby,” she continues, “and every day I see Dominick and Peyton’s beautiful babies, I can’t help butthink about what my baby would’ve been like. He or she would’ve been four years old now. Would they have had my blue eyes or Owen’s brown? His easygoingness or my drive and passion to want more in life?”
She sniffles softly. “Don’t get me wrong. I love that Dominick is happy and in love. It’s just that they have what I wanted … what I still want, and now … I just feel so broken.”
“You still want all that?” I ask. “After everything you’ve been through, the loss you’ve endured, you still want what Dominick and Peyton have?”
“Of course!” she says. “Isn’t that the purpose of life? To fall in love and have a happy family and a happy life?”
My thoughts go back to when Dani was being held captive by Enrique, and she texted me, asking what I thought the purpose of life was.
“There’s more to life than that,” I point out.
“Like what?” She raises a single brow. “Money? Control? Power?” She scoffs. “Life is short, and sure, money definitely makes life more pleasant. But I want love, companionship. When Owen held me in his arms, everything around us disappeared, and it was just me and him and our love. Maybe if I had never felt it, I wouldn’t know what I’m missing, but I did, and I miss it and crave it like crazy.”
She takes a sip of her drink, and it hits me just how strong my sister is. She’s been through so damn much—shit I tried and failed to protect her from—but she’s still here, sitting next to me, not letting the shit life’s thrown at her bring her down.
“So, why aren’t you dating?”
“I’ve gone on a few dates,” she says. “But most of them just aren’t my type.”
