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“I don’t deserve it today, Dad.”

“You are always deserving, Charles.”

She almost scoffed. Charles was a nickname he used when he needed to make room for something other than anger. It was simply so absurd. But without her anger, her spirit wilted like a tomato plant in the heat.

“How can you even look at me?” she asked quietly.

“Because I love you.”

“But it’s my fault.”

“Oh?” He tipped his head. “You told Victoria to terrorize your little sister?”

“What?” Charlotte blurted, gaze jerking toward him. “No.”

“Then you must have sat by and done nothing once you knew?”

She passed a hand over her face. “No. My retaliation was… swift.” The edge of her lip twitching upward. “I dumped her glass of wine over her head.”

His head fell back, a bark of laughter tumbling free. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her snug against him. “That’s my girl.”

They watched the children play for a moment as Charlotte took a few deep breaths like she could breathe away the rest of the ache.

His next words were soft. “Don’t hold onto blame that isn’t yours to carry.”

She pressed herself more snuggly against him, fighting the burn in her eyes, as a weight lifted. It was going to be okay. They weren’t the kind of family who just walked away and let things fall apart.

“I’m sorry for yelling at everyone.”

“I know. You’ll make it right. Just remember: families fight. Our family gets loud. Sometimes we yell.” He squeezed her shoulder. “That doesn’t mean we stop loving each other.”

She knew he was right, knew that blaming herself wasn’t doing anyone any good. The storm in her settled, really settled. She rested her head on his shoulder for a minute, watching the children race across the playground, breathing in deep steady breaths as the truth settled.

She’d given Victoria enough sway in her life. She didn’t deserve another moment.

James was right. They were going to be okay. There was too much love for it to end any other way.

“So,” he said lightly. “How’s your speech coming along?”

Charlotte stilled.

“...Shit.”

The door banged shut behind her as she stepped into the living area of their suite.

The cold marble did nothing to quiet her steps as she absently gathered the trail of Ali’s discarded clothes and tried to remember where she stashed her laptop. Inked thighs and a bare ass greeted her.

God damn, that ass.

Ali lay sprawled on her stomach across the rumpled covers, mouth parted, soft snores puffing rhythmically into the pillows.

The sight didn’t surprise her as much as she thought it might. Of course Ali had retreated somewhere quiet. Her tics had been ramping up at breakfast, and neither of them had slept nearly enough. Of course she crashed.

Charlotte followed the smooth lines of her body, the body she bent in very interesting ways the night before. Carefully, she pulled a blanket over her, tucking it around her but leaving her feet poking out the way she liked.

Her laptop waited for her in the bag she hadn’t opened since getting off the plane. Still charged. She settled on the other side of the bed, the steady rise and fall of Ali’s breathing oddly grounding as she opened the blank document.

She chose a different font, perfecting the formatting, waiting for words that weren’t coming. The cursor blinked at her… taunting her.