Malaki and Rory glance at one another, like they’re telepathically communicating about Wrath’s arrogance. It’s such a playful exchange, the sort we would have had when we were kids, and it twists the knife into the guilt that’s plagued me since my discussion with Mom.
I informed Wrath she now knows about the wedding and told him he needed to leave her alone because she isn’t well, but I didn’t reveal that what I shared with her is the reason why. That will take us through the weekend and give me time to wrap my mind around everything we discussed. Or, I guess, everything she inflicted upon me.
Tell them before she has a chance to.
I keep urging myself to do that whenever I’m around them, but I want them to live with the image they have of our father. Hold on to it as long as they can before it’s stripped from them like it was from me.
If it’s a lie Mom manufactured, what does it even matter?
Yet, if it was a lie, wouldn’t I have already told them by now because of how ridiculous it was?
Whatever the truth is, one thing I know is that I hate Mom even more than I did before my visit. Despise her for tearing that perfect image of Dad from me.
Still, it has served as a powerful reminder why this wedding is so important. Why I will never back down from my responsibility. Dad may have let us all down, but I won’t because I choose to be a better man.
“You couldn’t have picked a different color for the ties?” Malaki asks. “Burgundy looks like blood, which feels a little too on brand for the Wildes.”
“Kill insisted. He also has a better eye for things like this, so I trusted his taste.”
“Already an obedient wife, are you?” Wrath teases.
It feels less jarring hearing that word than it did when Killian first used it, but I still say, “Shut up.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining as long as we can start having pool parties at Rothguard.”
The thought of Wrath and Masters publicly shaming us with their debauchery tenses me up. “That’s not happening.”
“We’ll see about that,” Wrath says in a way that assures me it’s gonna be a struggle to get him to be on his best behavior.
Masters gives him a playful shove, and they glance at each other, similarly to the way Malaki and Rory did, reminding me that, though I love my brothers and they’ve always been here for me, I don’t have that same connection to any of them. In someways, I’ve always stood apart, just as I am with this secret I now keep.
“Okay,” Malaki says, returning his attention to me. “Time for you to suit up too.”
“You’re right. I’ve been so busy, I almost forgot.” Maybe because a part of me still can’t believe this is really happening.
“He’s right,” Wrath adds. “We deserve to know how the bride-to-be is gonna look.”
“Fuck off,” I say.
The tailor offers me a box with my tux, and I change into it at the floor-length mirror. When I’ve gotten my pants and shirt on, Wrath helps me with the buttons, Rory holds my jacket, Malaki fidgets with my cuff links, and Masters supervises.
Seeing the ridiculous sight in the mirror, I’m tempted to tell them I’m perfectly capable of getting ready on my own, but I stop myself, appreciating my brothers. Who’ve survived so much pain with me. Who were there through Mom’s fall and Dad’s disease. It’s important for them to be here with me like this on my special day.
What a stupid thing to think. It’s not like a real wedding.
And as I have the thought, a wave of disappointment pulses through me.
Stop it. You’re being stupid. You have obligations, and love has nothing to do with those.
32
KILLIAN
Too many thingsto do. Too many preparations to make.
My perfectionism isn’t making matters any easier, and it must be driving my brother up the wall.
“I said we needed the cake here by this morning,” I insist as I speak to the caterer over the phone.
