Guilt swept over Alex with enough force to knock him back a step. Savannah had only mentioned her mother once; she’d died of breast cancer before Savannah’s first feature film. He’d nevermet her, and Savannah had said she didn’t like to talk about it. So he’d never asked, never bothered to find out more.
If that had been Ellie, he would have.
Liam was right. He was a jerk.
Unfortunately for him, Liam wasn’t done.
‘She called Savannah her flower because she was pregnant with her on her wedding day – she carried a bunch of roses and peonies in her bridal bouquet. When she died, she asked to be buried with roses and peonies. That’s why she loves them. That’s why she always has them with her. But I’m sure you knew that already…’
As the silence stretched, the air thickened around them, the tropical storm lashing against the kitchen windows wildly.
‘I’m sorry. I was being a jerk.’
Liam sighed and balanced the tray with one hand as he ran his fingers through his hair in such a familiar way that it was almost like looking in a mirror. ‘I love her. I love her flowers, and her silly dancing, and her hundred dogs. I love everything about her. And I’m sorry that it’s hurt you, but you never loved her like I do.’
Liam began to walk away, but Alex grabbed him by the elbow, the champagne flutes jiggling precariously as he stared into his brother’s eyes.
‘You’re right. And… I’m sorry.’
Liam took a deep and shaken breath. ‘Thank you, and I’m sorry too. Not for being with Savannah, but for how I treated you. You’re my brother, and you deserved better.’ He left the room.
Alex remained rooted to the floor, staring at the door, long after his brother was gone, struck by the realisation that he’d never loved Savannah.
Back in the room, Ellie sat curled up on the couch, her magnificent hair dried and piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She wore long silky pyjama trousers and a white vest top that had black cat whiskers and a pink nose across her breasts.
It was very cute and very distracting.
Just like Ellie.
He put the tray of snacks down on the coffee table.
‘Wow. You really went to town.’
He’d grabbed everything he could think of: popcorn, nachos and dip, sweets, chocolate, two cans of soda, as well as a pot of tea for Ellie and a latte for himself.
‘Yeah, I needed time to compute my brother pointing out that I’m an asshole.’
Ellie sat up with an outraged gasp. ‘What? How dare he have a go at you!’
Flattered by her immediate and unconditional defence, he admitted the truth quickly, before she marched out of the room to knock his brother out. ‘He was right, in this case.’
She relaxed a little and eased back on the couch with a teasing raise of her brow. ‘Did you steal all of his movie snacks?’
‘Funny, but no. He pointed out the truth that I didn’t really know Savannah that well. I guess I wasn’t a great boyfriend to her. I was obsessed with rehearsing the play and my own plans for striking out solo. I never really thought about her. I never asked about her life, supported her goals, understood her past… nothing.’
Ellie pondered his words, plucking a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl and popping them in her mouth. ‘I see.’ As always there was no judgement, only acceptance. He was confessing he’d messed up, and she was listening. When had anyone else ever done that in his family? To fail was to be ordinary, and the Kings were never ordinary.
Solemnly, he said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been a good boyfriend, to anyone.’
‘Except me,’ she replied with a loyalty he didn’t deserve, and placed her hand on his arm, causing goosebumps to shiver across his skin.
He shook his head to clear the racing hormones. ‘I’d had girlfriends before Savannah. Some of them were obviously just using me for industry contacts. And I let them. I didn’t like being on my own, so in a way I used them too. But I never bothered to get to know them, and eventually they got tired of me.’
‘How could anyone ever tire of you?’
He wanted to kiss her so badly. But the last time he’d kissed her spontaneously it hadn’t gone down well.
Instead, he gave her a sad smile. ‘This isn’t real, remember?’
