He slips a hand onto the small of my back, guiding me a step forward toward the bar.
“Just for the month. I’m trying to write a new script.” He gives me a look. “It’s not going well, and this?” He waves a hand at the flower-bedazzled room. “I suspect my plans for peace and quiet are about to be blown out the window.” He sighs, making a face.
It’s a face I well know. “You’re staying with them.”
He grimaces. “Not for much longer. God forbid I’m subjected to another night of their amorous nocturnal pursuits.”
“Is it the screaming or the grunting that throws you?” I ask, unable to stop myself from teasing him.
“Both. Plus, the dirty talk. I don’t need to know that Bess likes to dominate my brother in the bedroom. I mean, there’s somethings a sibling just shouldn’t be subjected to.”
I chuckle, bumping him with my hip. “If it makes you feel better, I put up with them for six months.”
“It doesn’t. But it also means that you should be sainted. Any tips?”
“Noise-canceling earphones and try to find an apartment ASAP.” I tip my head to one side. “Actually, you should probably try to find a hotel for tonight. I can’t imagine how they’ll act after this.”
Josh shudders. “Fuck. Good call. Wanna put me up?”
“In my studio apartment? Sure, but you’ll be sleeping on a lumpy second-hand couch that smells like cabbage.” I glancedaround, trying to locate my brothers amidst the crush. “Is Sam with you?”
“Nah. He stayed in Alaska. He’s out scouting locations for our next project.”
While Peter had happily followed the well-worn path into the family business, Josh had taken another route. He’d partnered with my the youngest of my older brothers to start a production company. Sam took center stage as director, and occasional co-writer, while Josh supported as lead writer and cinematographer. They’d left Chars nearly a decade ago for the glamour of Hollywood, and had worked around the clock to make their dreams into reality.
Their first success had come in their early twenties—three Oscars and two Golden Globes forThey Called Him Dog. I’d nearly burst with pride as I sat with face practically pressed to the television screen, watching them walk up the red stairs to accept their awards.
Unlike many of those around us, Josh and Pete had money but worked damned hard at their jobs to carve out their own legacy.
Growing up around people who had money and privilege—especially when you don’t—you learn certain truths. I knew I could never change the opinions of those who have everything, that those born with silver spoons expected life to hand them opportunities on silver platters, and that money and connections spoke louder than talent or skill.
I’d also learned that all that glitters isn’t necessarily gold. In fact, it could be a toad of a human being.
But enough about Brad.
“Your attention please,” Pete calls from the front of the room. On cue, waiters begin to mingle in the crowd, handing out elegant glasses of bubbling champagne.
“Where were they ten minutes ago?” Josh mutters, plucking two of the glasses off a tray and handing one to me.
“We could down this and grab another,” I suggest, stubbornly holding my spot in line for the bar.
“Don’t tempt me.”
We exchange a grin as Pete launches into an emotional speech highlighting, all the things he loves about Bess.
Listening to him, watching them interact, a strange, disquiet builds in my chest, a tightness that grows from a seed into a voice.
This is what love is.
A longing seems to sigh through me as I watch Pete press an exuberant kiss to Bess’s lips.They’re beautiful and perfect—the very picture of a couple in love.
A movement pulls my gaze away from the couple to a man and woman standing across the room.
Bradley.
I stare at the couple, my chest tight.
She’s stunning—gorgeous actually—with long, flowing brunette hair and the kind of clear complexion that money purchased. She wears a bohemian-lace dress that sits tight across her abundant breasts before falling to gently dance across her stomach.
