Page 58 of Painted Truths

“When Kat passed, it was two months before Enrico came back to the office and the day he did, looking tired, rumpled, and no longer the man he’d been, he announced he was getting married to Lauren. Then, less than eight months later, Alex was born, which shocked everyone to say the very least and, though his arrival didn’t mean much of anything to either parent, as sad as it is to say that, he was doted on by Henry from the very start.”

And the hits keep on coming…

“That boy had barely turned seven years old, and he was feeding, winding, and changing nappies like a seasoned pro. Lauren refused to hire help; obviously, it would reflect poorly on her to need help, considering her previous occupation. Regardless, Henry adored his little brother, and as Alex grew, he adored his big brother in return.”

We sip on two margaritas Mike drops on the bar without being asked, confirming my suspicion that Martha is undoubtedly a regular here as she sits back quietly to let me take the time to absorb what she’s just blown me away with.

I’m mostly floored at the thought of Henry and Alex being true brothers—none of this estranged animosity they’ve got going on. And I can’t help but wonder if perhaps there’s a way to fix things.

Maybe whatever happened isn’t as deep-seated as they make out. Maybe their relationship can be mended.

“After Alex turned three, Enrico bought a place here in the city proper, and that was the end of office visits for both boys. I didn’t see Henry again for another eight years when he started work at the bottom of the food chain, slowly working his way up the ladder with an inherent knack for knowing what moves to make, just like his mum. It wasn’t until after Enrico’s passing that Henry brought Alex on board and fast-tracked him to his current position. But the first time I saw both boys together, well, now men, they were barely tolerant of each other, so whatever happened to their relationship happened in the interim.”

Draining her drink and signalling for two more, meaning I’ll probably spend the night fighting a waking hangover instead of moving, her eyes meet and hold mine. Both hands firmly clasping my own as she speaks again.

“Olivia, what I’m about to say now should have no bearing on your relationship with the DeMarco brothers, but I’d feel remiss if I kept the knowledge to myself when you are so desperate for answers.”

She waits for half a beat.

“At the Gala…” My sharp inhalation cuts her off. I hadn’t expected this. Nodding for her to continue as I remove one hand from her grip to grasp my margarita, draining it in one gulp, she squeezes the hand she holds.

“At the Gala, when the management dance was announced... Henry asked Alex if he could dance with you.”

He asked to dance with me?

She pauses to take in my reaction, presumably to ensure I’m not dead from a coronary before she floors me.

“Alex told him that your friendship had blossomed into something more since you’d started at DeMarco. When I took in Henry’s reaction, he seemed caught off guard by this, like he was under a different impression. Then he asked Henry, nicely at first, mind you, to just continue the tradition his father had started by asking me to partner with him.”

I’m sorry, what?

I knew he’d insinuated it at the concert, but knowing he was purposely trying to force Henry to believe there was something between Alex and me—to make Henry back off from his pursuit, taking my choice away from me, albeit in a much less straightforward manner, pissed me the hell off.

While my mind is going fifty million miles per hour, Martha keeps the blows coming.

“Henry told him he’d waited long enough, but after seeing you there that night and in person, he couldn’t stay away from you any longer. Which, after what you’ve just told me, makes perfect sense. He’s been thinking of you for years, that much is clear. Alex looked as though he were going to hit him and, even more oddly, Henry looked as though he’d have let him. Until Henry removed himself from the situation and, well, you know the rest, sweetie.”

Taking another sip of her drink before placing the glass back on the counter, she looks me squarely in the eyes, her no-nonsense practicality front and centre.

“What I’m saying, Liv, is that the relationship between those men is fraught, to say the very least. I don’t know why and, honestly, it’s not my place to ask, but… maybe now that you know more, you may find the right time to mend what’s broken, hmm?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Henry

Aged 7

"Can he sleep in my room, please, Nanny Lauren?"

My new stepmum's hand lashes out to slap the side of my head as I realise, too late, my mistake.

"Mummy, I mean Mummy. I'm sorry, Mummy."

"Good boy, Enrico."

She pats my head as she would our kitten, Millefeuille, while smiling broadly.

"Your brother shall sleep in your room, of course, dear. Your father will be pleased to see you caring for his newest son in his absence. He's your responsibility now."