HENDRICKS: Max started walking. We got eight steps. I feel very strongly he’s going to be an athlete.
HENDRICKS: Miles has introduced Max to polo. He can barely walk, but he swings the mallet like a pro. But we had to move all the priceless chinabefore Lando’s head exploded ha ha.
HENDRICKS: *photo*
HENDRICKS: My boy is one. Can you believe it?
Clementine grabs my phone. “Oh, he was so cute. He wore that birthday hat all day.”
I nod. It’s all I can manage without crying. But then I catch sight of the next message, and holding it in is impossible. Tears spill down my cheeks and splash on the screen.
HENDRICKS: Sienna and I are done. I tried, Stor. I tried so fucking hard, but I have to put Max first.
HENDRICKS: I have meetings with the solicitors today, and they think I can get full custody. I wish you were here. I wish you could tell me what to do.
HENDRICKS: Happy Birthday, Storyteller.
The timestamps between the messages become increasingly far apart. Until the last message.
HENDRICKS: Happy Birthday, Storyteller.
That was three years ago. They stopped, just like he said.
Clementine picks up the dry wet wipes and silently passes them over.
“What are you going to do?”
I blow my nose, pick up my water, and drink half in one go. “I love Hendricks, and I always have. And he loves me. I just need to show him that we’re better together than apart.”
Clementine picks up her wine. “I’ll drink to that.”
Picking up the bottle, I fill my glass. “Now I need to figure out how to do that. I need to stop him seeing me as the teenage Story.”
“Seduce him.” She laughs, and it’s followed by a dramatic shudder. “Bleugh. Not that I want to think about my brother having sex?—”
“If it makes you feel better, I think about him having sex all the time.” I snort, before dissolving into giggles, and when Clementine joins in, it turns into full belly laughter.
We laugh and laugh and laugh. Every time we think we’re stopping, we catch each other’s eye, and it starts all over again until Eddie comes over with more water.
“Looks like things are improving.”
We both know he’s trying to be nice, but it silences us into realizing our shared desolation. Eddie runs off the moment our faces crumble.
“Clem, what are you going to do about Santiago Torres?” I ask after using the last dry wet wipe to blow my nose.
“Honestly”—she grins, but there’s a sadness behind it—“I have no fucking clue, and I’m not going to figure it out tonight.”
And so, we finish the wine and order anotherbottle. We each come up with a plan on how to tackle our respective problems. Eddie brings us huge plates of steak pie and mash. We laugh, we cry, and eventually, after debating whether a fourth bottle of wine would be a step too far, we decide it’s perhaps time to go home.
Which is when Hendricks storms into the pub.
CHAPTER 24
Hendricks
Itake one look at Story propped up against my sister, the pair of them howling with laughter, and turn to Eddie.
“What the hell? How did you let them get so drunk?”
