“He’s dead,” I state flatly.
Sylvia rears back, blinking at me. “What?”
“Didn’t you hear? About the fire? He and—Y-Yates.” I stumble over my stepbrother’s name. I haven’t said it out loud in so long. It feels odd on my lips.
“Oh. That’s right. How could I forget? Such a tragedy.” She frowns, but then it’s gone. As if it never was there in the first place, her face is so smooth. She smiles pleasantly, resting her arms on top of the table, her hands clasped together. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She doesn’t sound sorry at all. I’d take a guess that she mentioned Jonas on purpose, just to make a jab at me. Which is cruel, considering how much I adored Jonas, not that she knows that. He wasn’t able to protect me from certain things, but he always treated me as one of his own.
“Did they catch who set the fire?” Sylvia asks, her brows shooting up.
My stomach twists. There’s nothing in it, yet I feel as if I could vomit all over this table.
“It wasn’t arson,” Sylvie answers for me, sounding confused. She glances at me. “Was it?”
“An accident,” I croak, ducking my head.
The word was tossed around at first, right after the incident. But then it was dropped. Not enough evidence, Mother reassured me, which was a relief.
Sylvie thankfully changes the subject, talking about school, filling her mom in on the latest gossip. Talking about people I have no idea who they are, but supposedly they attend Lancaster Prep, children of her parents’ friends. I don’t really pay attention, too preoccupied with watching the door, waiting and dreading Whit’s entrance. Another man walks in first, though. Whit’s father.
If I wanted to know what Whit will look like when he’s older, he just entered the room.
“Aug, there you are,” Sylvia says, sounding exasperated. “Finally you’re here.”
Augustus completely ignores her, walking straight toward Sylvie. She rises to her feet and embraces him, giving him a lingering hug. I can’t help but feel envious, wishing I had a strong relationship with my father. Or that Jonas was still here. I miss having a father figure to go to for advice. For comfort.
I’m sure I have daddy issues. I won’t bother denying them.
“You look well,” Augustus says to Sylvie, clasping her cheeks with his hands as he stares into her eyes. She beams up at him. “You’ve gained weight.”
“I feel well,” she answers, her voice light. The lightest I’ve ever heard her. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Yesterday she looked like hell. Now she’s sparkling with health.
I don’t get it.
“The flight was terrible. Delayed at takeoff. Bad weather. Glad I made it back in one piece.” He releases his hold on Sylvie, his gaze shifting to me. “Who do we have here?”
“Oh Daddy, this is Summer. My friend,” Sylvie says, smiling at me.
I stand and take his offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He tilts his head as he contemplates me, slowly releasing my hand. “You’re terribly familiar.”
“Her mother is Janine Weatherstone,” Sylvie says, a knowing smile curling her lips.
“Ah.” His brows lift in seeming surprise. “Well.” He pauses, his gaze wandering over my face. “You look just like her.”
Great. He realizes I look just like the woman he had a raging affair with. One that ruined his marriage and almost ruined Mother’s.
I don’t bother answering him, because what can I say? Gee thanks, glad I remind you of your mistress?
Talk about awkward.
We all settle back into our seats, Augustus sitting at the head of the table, as far away as possible from Sylvia. I watch as she tries to speak to him, and how he ignores her. Or says something dismissive, his gaze shuttered. Closed-off completely.
This is where Whit learned it from, I realize.
The server comes in to take our orders and Whit still hasn’t entered the room. Augustus orders bottles of wine and a load of appetizers. Sylvie claps her hands in glee, while her mother chastises her ex-husband for ordering too many carb-loaded items.
I say nothing. A quiet little observer of the Lancaster family dynamics, trying to put it all together in regards to Whit and his behavior. He runs so hot and cold. He still wants me. I know that much after the blistering kiss we shared earlier today.
But his attraction toward me is always accompanied by anger and hostility. He’s an absolute prick toward me most of the time. I don’t understand it.
I still don’t understand him.
“Oh, the birthday boy has returned!” Sylvia suddenly exclaims and I lift my head to see Whit standing in the open doorway, an absolutely stunning girl under his arm, staring up at him adoringly.
My stomach sinks and I keep my head averted. He brought a girl—and not Caitlyn. Of course he did.
“Father,” Whit says, sounding surprised when he spots him. “You made it.”
Augustus stands with a grin, going to his son. “Do you really think I’d miss my oldest child’s eighteenth birthday?”
“I wasn’t sure,” Whit says truthfully, meeting his father halfway. He releases his hold on the girl and the two men embrace, slapping each other’s backs in that purely male way. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Happy Birthday, son,” Augustus says sincerely. “I see you brought Leticia with you.”
Dread consumes me. He’s with Leticia. The girl who’s been chosen as his future wife, like we’re living in the middle ages.
“Hi, Mr. Lancaster,” Leticia says sweetly, shaking Augustus’s hand. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
“Lovely to see you too. Call me August. None of that mister talk. Always feel like my dad is nearby,” he says jokingly, glancing around as if he’s looking for him.
Leticia’s tinkling laughter is, of course, delicate and pretty. Much like she is.
“Come, the both of you. Please sit down,” Augustus says, taking over as host.
From the frosty expression on Sylvia’s face, she doesn’t approve.
“Your sister brought a friend with her,” she says to Whit when he arrives at the table, gesturing toward me. “You know her, of course, since she attends Lancaster Prep. Summer.” Her lips curl. “Savage.”
Whit turns his wide-eyed gaze upon me, his lips drawing into a thin line. “Barely,” he bites out, his gaze flickering over me, as if I don’t even exist. Typical. “Hello.”
I nod toward him but otherwise don’t say a word.
Conversation continues around me, but I don’t hear it. I can’t. All I can do is watch Whit out of the corner of my eye. He continuously sips from the glass of amber liquid he brought with him from the bar, his gaze on no one, anger radiating from him in palpable waves. It’s as if no one else senses it though. Leticia makes a plate of appetizers for him like a good little girlfriend when they arrive, but he doesn’t even touch them. She scoots closer to him, whispering in his ear, and his gaze drops to the front of her shirt, where it displays a healthy amount of cleavage. Her tits are enormous. Bigger than mine.
He touches her there, a casual caress, his fingers briefly skimming her skin, and seeing it jars me to my very core. I grab at the full wineglass sitting on the table in front of me and gulp from it, just before I push my chair back and stand, so quickly the chair clatters to the floor, effectively silencing everyone’s conversation.