Page 18 of Touch of Hate
My brother, Quinton, is next in the line, followed by his wife, Aspen. Both of them give me dazzling smiles, though my brother’s smile never reaches his eyes. He can’t hide his betrayal and hurt from me. Not when it matches my own.
As my gaze moves down the line, the muscle in my chest seizes, and I forget to breathe.
He should be standing there, his devilish smirk in place and his icy gaze drinking me in, promising me bad things. He should be here, and he isn’t.
With a shake of my head, I let the anger threatening to take hold of me evaporate into thin air. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back. I need to face that reality even if every single fiber of me refuses to believe it.
Next are Uncle Ivan and Aunt Violet, followed by Uncle Damon and Aunt Keira. They give me the same smile as everyone else. “Smile. It’s your birthday, after all,” Tessa whispers as she releases me. How can I smile when my life feels like it’s crumbling in my hands?
“You look beautiful.” My father dotes, and I wrap my arms around him. There is nothing like the hugs he gives.
“Your father is right; you’re turning into a beautiful young woman,” my mother adds, and I pull back and look at her, noticing the tears filling her eyes. Who knew Ella Rossi could be so emotional and sensitive being married to Xander Rossi.
I can only hope to have a love like my parents someday.
“No matter what birthday I’m celebrating, I can always return home to see my mother.” I smile, trying to soothe the void at the loss of her children growing up and moving on with their lives will bring.
“Get over here and give your favorite uncle a hug,” Uncle Damon interrupts, and I turn to find him giving me a playful smile.
Dark hair and eyes that mirror my father’s. I swear, sometimes they could be twins. Aunt Keira gives me a hug as well.
Uncle Ivan opens his huge arms to me. He’s the size of a bear, big and tall, his muscles bunching beneath his dress shirt.
“It’s okay. I know you had to lie to Uncle Damon about him being your favorite uncle.” He’s grinning from ear to ear, and I step into his warm embrace. He gives the best hugs.
“Hey, now, don’t be talking shit about me,” Uncle Damon chastises.
All I can do is shake my head. This family’s dynamic could never be duplicated. Ivan releases me, and immediately Violet wraps me up in her arms. She smells like lavender and sunshine. I suck a calming breath of her scent into my lungs, letting it stabilize me.
“Happy birthday, sweetie,” she whispers into the shell of my ear.
I pull away, giving her a sad smile. The only people missing from the party are Ren’s parents and sister. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to come, as my father told me, but he thought it would be better if they didn’t.
As a group, we make our way to the large dining room that overlooks the gardens. My father, Quinton, Damon, and Ivan speak to each other in hushed voices while Tessa and I grab a bottle of champagne.
I fill the flutes all the way to the top, and we clink glasses before taking a drink. Tessa sips her champagne, but I can’t bring myself to be that ladylike.
I need some type of alcohol to numb the pain in my chest.
Bringing the flute to my lips, I tip it back and swallow the entire glass in two gulps. The bubbly wine slides down my throat with ease, and I grab the bottle and pour another. I can feel Tessa’s judgmental gaze, but I don’t care. It’s my birthday, after all.
I decide to sip on the second glass as I take my usual seat at the table. The table is smaller today.
It’s only been a few months since he disappeared, but tensions between my father and Roman, Ren’s father, have grown.
Everyone points fingers, and I know it’s only a matter of time before something bad happens. I frown and look at the missing spots at the table. Nothing will ever be the same again.
Luna and I can barely text without some type of controversy. I know everyone thinks she’s helping her brother or is in contact with him, but I’m not so sure. Ren loves his sister more than anything, but he wouldn’t drag her into the mess he made. I mean, I guess I thought he loved me, too, and look at the murky waters he dragged me through. I shrug and take another gulp of the champagne, letting the bubbles relax my tightening gut.
We move from conversation to dinner, and I space out for the majority of it. I love my family, but I’m not in the right headspace to handle all of this.
I can only fake so much. Even I have my limit.
Dinner is a birthday favorite, butternut squash ravioli cooked in a cream sauce with fresh bread sticks. Months ago, I’d have licked the dish clean, but now I can barely manage to push the food around with my fork, taking a bite here and there to appease my mother’s watchful eyes.
“If I’m forcing myself to eat this for you, then you better take a couple more bites of food.” Quinton spears a piece of ravioli on his fork and shoves it into his mouth. He grimaces, and I shake my head, a giggle escaping my lips.
“How can my big bad brother be offended by butternut squash?”