by J. B. McGee
Standing, I turn the faucet on and splash some water on my face as I look at myself in the mirror. Who needs makeup to look like a raccoon? I have that look down just fine with the dark circles that have taken permanent occupancy on my face these days. My cheeks are pale, and I squeeze them, trying to pinch some color back into them.
I jump like a skittish cat as there’s a knock on the door. “Sam,” Gabby whispers. “You okay? The limo’s here.”
I yank the perfectly folded towel from the holder and dab my face. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”
Deep, cleansing breaths, Sam. You can do this.
My hand slips on the knob as I twist it from the sweat that’s popping up despite having just wiped them on Gabby’s cream, monogrammed hand towel. I rub my hands down the sides of my skinny jeans and take a deep breath before trying again. As the door swings open, Gabby’s standing there. “What’s up with you, Sam?”
“Nothing.” I pinch the bridge of my nose while squinting my eyes. “What would make you think there was something up?”
She smiles. “Oh, I dunno. The fact you’re paler than Casper the Friendly Ghost. The way your breathing hitched when you saw Joe touch Rebecca.” She shakes her head. “You’re not just tired.”
“Shh.” I brush past her. “I’m not discussing this here or now. Let’s go.” I grab her hand and pull her with me.
Our footsteps patter against the hardwood floor and echo throughout the high ceilings. “We’re alone. Everyone’s already in the limo.” She skips a few steps until she’s at my side, drops my hand, and then nudges me. “Eventually, you’re going to have to confront the feelings you have for him.”
“Nope.” I shrug. “No feelings.” Maybe if I say it enough times I’ll start to believe it. Start to feel it.
“Been there done that. It doesn’t work. Remember?” She puts her hand up to the door before I can open it and slides in between the glass filled piece of oak and me. “Sam. I feel like I’m repeating all the stuff you said to me about Bradley way back when. I love my husband, but he apparently sucks at match-making.”
I stare at her blankly.
“He put you with the wrong brother.”
Shifting my weight, I avert my gaze quickly before looking back into her round, hazel eyes. “Are we done yet?”
She steps to the side. “The difference between Joe and Bradley is he’s not waiting on you. So, if you’re going to stake a claim, you better get on that.”
“Can we just go, please?”
She puts her palms up, facing me. “Whatever.”
“Thank. You.” I pull the door open and walk to the limo.
Gabby hangs behind to lock up, then jogs to my side. “I still don’t know where we’re going.”
“I’m not telling. Nice try, though. Bradley will tell you when he wants you to know.”
She sighs as we crawl into the back. Ryan, Joe, and Rebecca are on the long bench facing the bar, which also has platters of chicken nuggets, sub sandwiches, fruit, and cookies. I can’t contain my relief. Ryan pats the leather in between him and Joe. I swallow back the lump forming in my throat. As I sit, my nostrils fill with a mix of leather, rum, vanilla, and Joe, spurring my insides to open the gate to the butterflies I’ve demanded to stay put tonight. Inhaling a breath, I reach for a chocolate chip cookie. Based on the size and shape they are from my favorite place. “Yum. Yum. Yum.” I catch a crumb.
Bradley chuckles. “I knew there wouldn’t be time for a fancy dinner. Instead of stopping for fast food, I arranged for it to come to us.”
“It’s exactly what the doctor ordered.” I cover my full mouth with my hand. “You hit the spot.”
Once Gabby’s seated on the shorter bench next to Bradley, the chauffeur closes the door. Her eyes skate past me to Joe. She gives him a half smile, then takes his date in. “Rebecca, tell us a little bit about yourself.”
Oh, this should be interesting. I still can’t believe Bradley thought this was a good idea, but I’m interested to hear about the bimbo. My attention is drawn to her knee as Joe places his palm on it, then gives it a squeeze, causing the butterflies that have taken flight in my stomach to take a nose dive.
She licks her lips and smiles, putting her hand on Joe’s before leaning forward. “I’m twenty-nine, grew up in Alabama.” Her accent gave that tidbit away the moment she opened her mouth earlier. “I moved to Georgia right outta high school to attend Georgia Tech and graduated top of my class in electrical engineering. I went on to get my Master’s in aerospace engineering.” Damn. She leans into Joe, her blue eyes dancing. I hadn’t appreciated them at Gabby’s. They really are quite stunning, like blue waves with white foam peaks speckled throughout. Does Joe get lost in them? A flash of heat zings against my neck, then up to my face, enveloping me at thoughts of his lips on hers.
Gabby looks dazed, and I wonder if I’m wearing the same expression.
“I work here in Atlanta now as a project engineer.”
Ryan grabs a cookie. I’d forgotten there was food, and my appetite must have left with the butterflies. “And what exactly does a project engineer do, Rebecca?” he asks.
“I…” She clears her throat. “I manage projects to get FAA manufacturing approval for aircraft hardware.” Her leg starts to bounce.
Ryan regards her. Her shoulders are no longer back, her chin no longer held high.
Joe’s fingers brush my leg as he moves his hand from his knee to his hair, and I jump as a volt of electricity surges through my body. “Sorry ‘bout that.” His lips are in a firm line.
My mouth dries. “It’s okay. Kinda tight ride, but at least we’re not having to drive.” I reach for a bottle of wine, not even caring whether it’s red or white, so long as it’s got something in it to dull the pyrotechnics bursting within me. After pouring a glass, I replace the bottle, but not before contemplating turning it up and drinking it dry first. “Maybe next time your sophisticated girlfriend can get us a hookup with a private jet.” I take a long swig before nodding my head toward Bradley. “Mr. Moneybags can pay for it.”
Joe’s eyes are hooded as he smirks my way. “We’re not.” He swallows. “I’m not sure she has those kinds of hookups. And I’m not sure Bradley is as loaded as you think.”
Ironically, the warmth of the wine washing over me actually cools me down. My shoulders loosen. “We’re not what?” I ask, my chin pointed up to him.
His eyes bore into mine. “Let it go, Sam.” I wrap my lips around the rim of the glass, tip it back, and drag in as much as I can hold, never removing my eyes from his. “You should really slow down.”
“What do you care?”
He arches a brow as he replaces his hand on his knee. His eyes leave mine. “Bradley. You said you had something you wanted to discuss?” Joe takes a beer from the ice chest, pops the cap off, and guzzles it.” And he’s telling me to slow down? “You have us trapped now in the middle of nowhere. We’ve gotten the small talk out of the way. What’s the real reason we’re all here?”
“Pass me one of those.” Bradley grins. “You know me too well, man.”
Joe shrugs, then holds a bottle of beer by the neck and offers it to him.
Gabby, Rebecca, and Ryan are enthralled in conversation, but all I hear is a hum of voices and occasional laughter.
Bradley clears his throat. “Guys. Sorry to interrupt.”
Everyone hushes, and we’re all eyes on Bradley Banks. Married looks even better on him. His red sweater is over a white button-up shirt, except the first several are undone, revealing his defined collar bone and strong neck. His dark jeans are tight in the waist, but not so much so in the legs, and his black hair is a bit long and messy. But the sweater makes his eyes smolder, especially against the silver and black interior of this limo.
He takes Gabby’s hand in his. “You know this is our first Christmas as husband and wife.”
I nod, smiling, but my stomach knots, my mouth dries, and I take another sip of my wine.
“You’re
all family. And so we’d like to formally invite you to our first annual Christmas day celebration. We’ll be preparing our favorite family dishes for lunch.” He nods at Ryan and then at Joe. “Your family is also welcome to come. This weekend is about starting and continuing traditions for our newly joined families. It’s important to me we include all the people we love and care about.” He kisses Gabby’s forehead. “We don’t want our family time split up on holidays.” Then his eyes set on mine, and the knot tightens as I shake my head. Don’t do it, Bradley. Don’t do it. “Sam and Gabby’s family has already committed to coming, and my family is also planning to be with us.”
With that, I tip my glass back and consume the last drops.
Joe’s elbow goes into my side, and I hear a low growl. He leans down, his lips so close to my ear I can feel their heat, his scent causing my body to hum. “I. Said. To. Slow. The. Fuck. Down.”
I pour another glass of wine, then grab another cookie. Nothing like drinking and eating away my emotions. Just like my father. Except I’m not an abusive drunk who abandons my family and then shows back up when it’s convenient. I stare at Gabby. She has her arm tucked into Bradley’s and is snuggled into his side. She mouths sorry.
I sigh. Is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of our lives? Is having a relationship with Gabby contingent on one with Gabe?
“We’d love to come,” Ryan says. He better sure as hell be speaking for him and his brother and not me. He places a hand on my leg. “Babe. You should probably eat more than cookies and drink more than wine.”
“You got that wrong.” I glare at Bradley. “More wine. Not more than wine.”
“If you’re going to drink more wine, then at least eat something with some substance—some protein.” He’s made a plate of chicken nuggets and a sub sandwich. “Here. Eat this.” He takes the half of the cookie I haven’t yet finished away from me.
“Oh no you don’t.” I snatch it back, placing it on the side of my plate. “I’ll save that for dessert.”
Rebecca clears her throat. “I wish I could eat and drink like that and be as thin as you, Sam.”
Is she serious? She can’t be. I want to hate her so bad, but everything out of her mouth has been so polite. “I wish I could do smoky eyes like you.” No, no, no. Go ahead, Sam. Plant your head on the table in front of us.
“Oh.” She laughs. “It’s not that hard. I just watched a YouTube video and practiced.”
And she’s modest.
“Good to know.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Gabby says.
Bradley chuckles. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”
“No. I don’t even know where we are right now. I haven’t been paying attention to our surroundings.”
“Traditions, Gabby Girl. We’re adding Joe to our Hopelands yearly trip.”
She beams. “Aw. I knew it!” She locks lips with his, and I focus on my plate, grabbing the sub sandwich and taking a huge bite.
“You did not know it, though, or you wouldn’t have just asked,” Bradley says, amused.
“Maybe it was wishful thinking. I love Aiken. So many good memories.”
“Yes, Mrs. Banks. I intend on making more tonight.”
I sigh. “Okay, okay. Save it for later. She’s my sister.”
Ryan nibbles my ear. “Are you jealous?” he whispers. “Of the affection he gives her?”
I pull away, but the seating is so tight, I nearly end up in Joe’s lap. The heat connects with my bottom. The hardness of his muscles is like washing up from an undertow onto a rock. I swallow, trying to wet my mouth. “Sorry.” I glance back at Joe, then flash my eyes at Ryan. “Don’t do that to me again,” I hiss quietly.
His face scrunches. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, I don’t like public displays of affection. Clearly. Hence the telling them to cut it out. They make me uncomfortable.” Another realization on this night of epiphanies. After one year of dating, has he not figured that out already?
“Whatever, Sam. Are you mad about earlier?”
“I don’t want to talk about it now. Here.”
His lips push into a thin line, and he nods. “Fair enough.”
Fuck fair. Fair would be me not having to choose between being with my sister and our abusive father. Fair would be my mom still being alive. Fair would be a whole lot of things. None of what’s left is fair or enough.
The rest of the trip to Aiken has been awkward at best. I’m thankful for the ride, that I’ve been able to get my fill of food and wine through it all, but the addition of Joe and Rebecca has made it tight. Bradley’s subject matter, his question, was definitely like a mudslide in the middle of a hurricane. The entire trip, my body has been on heightened alert, and quite frankly, it’s been exhausting.
“Finally!” I admire the lights through the tinted windows as we drive past Hopelands Gardens. For a section of Whiskey Road, it’s like something out of a movie. Iron gates, walls made of bricks, enchanting gardens, ponds, and brick sidewalks under a canopy of white lights, century-old live oaks, and magnolias. Bradley brought Gabby, Ryan, and I here last year. That night, he asked Gabby to move to Atlanta with him. Not even a month later, he asked her to marry him at one of the looking ponds, and now we’re here again, but this time with Joe and Rebecca in tow.
“Why are we passing it?” Rebecca asks.
After I’d basically admitted my envy over her smoky eyes, I’d tried to keep quiet the rest of the ride. In fact, part of it, I pretended to sleep so no one would bug me about how much wine or what I was eating. I could pretend I didn’t feel Joe’s every move. I didn’t have to pretend to be interested in the small talk. And then there was Ryan. After I’d made the comment about the public display of affection, I felt like a total bitch. So, I’d snuggled into his side and used his chest as a pillow. He caressed my back, and a few times, I do think I managed to drift off. When no one answers her question, I look up to see Gabby and Bradley practically making out, but that doesn’t explain why Ryan hasn’t answered her. I stretch my arms, then my back. “The parking is very limited there. The only way to get in is to arrive on a shuttle.”
“It looks so pretty from what I’ve seen.”
“What you see from the road doesn’t come close to doing it justice.” I nudge Ryan. “Right, babe?”
He startles. “Huh?”
“I was just telling Rebecca and Joe the view from the road doesn’t do it justice.”
He shakes his head. “She’s right.” He smirks. “The woman’s always right.”
Joe’s eyes scrutinize me furtively. “Not always.”
I try to swallow, but my mouth is parched once again. “I’m gonna have one last drink before we go. Some wine to warm my veins against the cold.” Reaching down, I pick up the nearly empty bottle. “I’d offer some to y’all, but looks like Gabby and I have about finished this one.” I salute Ryan, then Joe, and ignore Rebecca. “Bottoms up.”
Joe blinks, but holds his lids closed a little longer than usual. His legs, which are touching mine, tense before he snatches the bottle. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“I’m not drunk, and seriously, what do you care?” I puff my chest out at him. I’m sick of him acting like he’s my babysitter tonight. I peek past him at Rebecca. “How do you handle his bossiness?”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I guess he feels like you’re his little sister, and he’s just trying to protect you.” She winks at me, and I want to slap her. No. I don’t. Because I’m not an aggressive drunk, and I’m not even all that loopy anymore. I’m not my father. Maybe Joe’s right. Maybe I’ve had enough. “Anyway,” she says. “He seems to prefer me bossing him around, if you know what I mean.” Maybe me wanting to slap her has nothing to do with the fact I’ve been drinking and everything to do with her being a bitch?
Joe’s head whips back to her. “Really?” Thoughts of when Joe mentioned dropping to his knees and begging me not to move pop
into my mind. Maybe he likes being on his knees. Everything in me tries to contain the smile that wants to curve on my lips and the giggles that want to fall out of them.
Ryan bursts into laughter. “So, you’re a dominatrix, Rebecca?”
“I guess you could say that.” Her tone has changed. It’s not as perky, warm. “See, there was this guy in college I screwed around with. Everything was always on his terms and never mine. He treated me great in private, and like I was a piece of trash in public.” Did she date my sister’s ex too? Because I swear she’s describing Ian, but he’s a good bit younger than her. They wouldn’t have been at Tech during the same time. My head twists between the two of them.
“Maybe he liked you, but didn’t know how to show it. Maybe he was afraid. Maybe it was bad timing for a relationship.”
Sometimes Ryan can be a complete idiot, and I’m ashamed of what comes out of his mouth. I interject, “So bad timing for a relationship gives the douche permission to treat her like trash?” Even if I’m not her biggest fan, hearing her story is like listening to my Gabby’s. It’s too personal. The fact Ryan is even attempting to defend such horrible behavior appalls me. “Last time I checked, the answer is no.”
“Exactly. Thank you, Sam. Anyway, he made me realize the best way to protect my heart was to control every aspect. So, I guess you could say I’m a dominatrix if you want. I’m not really into my men having to be beaten into submission to have sex with me, though.”
She cuts her eyes at Joe, who has his head down. I hear him mumble something, but can’t make out the words. He’s rubbing his palms on his pants. Why is he letting her say all this? “Anyway, I prefer my men begging for me, but I need the control. First rule is in order to have sex with me, you have to court me.”