“In seven minutes?” I say, as I rub my fingers over my temples. “God. Give it two hours, and come by with an emergency. Life and death. Unavoidable.”
“Yes, sir.”
I love Melvin. He was born and bred in London, but working as both a black cab and a New York taxi driver has hardened him to the stresses of life. He takes everything in stride and always comes through whenever I need him.
“Good luck, sir,” he says with a grin, as I get out of the car.
The looming shape of the house exacerbates my bad mood as I button up my jacket. I’m wearing my most expensive suit tonight just because I can.
I bought this house for my parents when I sold my third business at the age of twenty-six. They love it, and I love it, but as I enter, hearing the rumble of voices coming from the dining room, I still want to turn around and leave.
God damn it, why do I have to endure these family gatherings?
The hallway is warm and glowing, tiny lights twinkling from every possible surface. My mother, Elona, is obsessed with string lights of every shape and size, and my father has had to endure their encroachment throughout the house for most of their marriage.
My dad, Edward, is sensible, practical, and very serious. My mother is a whimsical, unpredictable ball of chaos, and for some reason, they work perfectly together.
“Baby boy!” my mother says as she comes out of a room to my right, holding a pie, and lifting it over her head to embrace me.
If she gets crumbs on this suit, I’m going to lose my shit.
She pulls back, giving me her usual assessing stare before her lips thin with irritation.
“Eddie?” she calls to my father, who appears behind her in his standard black fleece and jeans. “Feed this boy. He’s wasting away before my eyes.”
“Hello, son,” my father says patiently. “Whiskey?”
“God, yes,” I reply, and my mother mutters under her breath as she walks away.
“You drive here?” my dad asks.
“I was driven.”
“Huh. You can get drunk then. I've got a new single malt I'd like you to try. Even got those fancy big ice cubes you people like.”
“Us people?” I ask, following him into the kitchen as he waves vaguely at me.
“Business types with too much money.”
I roll my eyes behind his back, chuckling as I walk into the kitchen. But as soon as I do, I freeze in place, my breath hitching.
Ahead of me is Sinclair Kellerman, my unbearable cousin. And the woman fawning all over him, her perfect, claw-like nails sliding over his neck as she kisses his jaw, is my ex. Megan.
My insides turn to ash as I watch them. This woman, whom I thought I loved, moved on with that asshole less than three weeks after she ended our engagement. The worst part is that my mother embraced them with open arms. Sinclair is her nephew, and she adores him almost as much as she adores Megan. My mother doesn’t believe in family feuds. You fight, you get over it, and you move on, even if her own son had his heart broken in the aftermath.
My father hands me a glass of whiskey without a word, giving me a long, pitying look before he goes to help my mom.
“Oh, hey, Lucas,” Sinclair says, bright smile flashing as he comes up for air. “Didn’t see you there.”
Megan turns, allowing his arms to wrap around her as she leans her head back against his chest. Her long, wavy hair is loose around her shoulders, pink lipstick a little smudged from where she has been kissing my cousin.
“Nice suit,” she says.
I sip from my glass and say nothing, turning on my heel and heading into the main dining room. I know I’m being petty and giving her exactly what she wants, but I can’t bear to see his hands all over her.
My brothers, Charlie and Morgan, are sitting in the dining room waiting for dinner to be served. They’re having a heated debate about a bill that’s going through Congress. Morgan is running for the state legislature, much to the chagrin of my father, and is becoming more obnoxious by the day.
Charlie glances up, looking very young in a chunky knit sweater. His dark brown hair looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in days, and he’s drinking a large glass of wine. His gaze meets mine as he nods to the chair beside him for me to take a seat.
