I’m tempted to just not reply, but then my only other option is to go home, and I don’t particularly want to do that either. So, I guess I’m going to pay my brother a visit.
Me: On my way.
I cringeas I pull up outside my family’s run-down estate in Ronan’s ridiculous car. Then I glance up to the window in the center of the second floor, the one my father used to look out of when he was working, and my chest tightens.
As if marrying a Sullivan wasn’t enough of a kick in the teeth to his memory, now I’m flashing their wealth around without giving it a second thought.
What’s happened to me?
I switch off the engine and climb out of the car, trying to ignore the bitter taste in my mouth as I lock it behind me.
The house looks the same as it did the last time I was here, yet it feels so much smaller.
As I unlock the front door and head inside, I’m surprised when I don’t feel that familiar calm wash over me. Even when I used to spend a few nights at Mila’s after a heavy weekend partying, coming home always felt like a breath of fresh air. It might not have been the grandest house, filled with expensive antiques and a stream of staff to dote on me hand and foot, but it was home.
But now? Not so much.
“Callum?” I peel my eyes away from the dust-covered piano hidden beneath the stairs.
“In here!”
I follow the sound of my brother’s voice into the sitting room, where I find him pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace with an empty rocks glass in hand. His blond hair is disheveled, and the usual stubble that coats his jaw has almost grown into a full beard. His dark navy slacks and white shirt look like they could do with a good dry clean too.
In other words, my brother looks like absolute shit.
When he catches me watching him, he straightens as his eyes flick over me.
“Good, you’re here.”
I roll my eyes. "Nice to see you too." I try my best to keep my tone light. "What’s going on?"
He gestures for me to sit on the couch, but I don’t.
Something about his energy is off, and from the half-empty decanter of whiskey on the coffee table, I have a feeling whatever he wants to talk to me about isn’t good.
“Spit it out, Callum.” I fold my arms over my chest.
To my annoyance, he remains silent as he sets his glass on the coffee table and pours himself another drink.
"How are things with Ronan?" he eventually asks.
“Is that why you made me come over here? To ask how my marriage is going?”
Callum’s expression hardens as he looks at me over the top of his glass, and I let out a sigh. “It’s fine. We’re…figuring things out.”
He nods slowly as he looks down at his drink and swirls the amber liquid around his glass.
"I’ve been thinking…”
“About?”
“That there might be a way out of this for you."
“Out of what?”
“Your marriage.”
Now I wish I’d been sitting down as my legs almost buckle beneath me.
