Picture Perfect (25 page)

“Come on,” Darcy said. “You guys will probably want to eat before everyone else gets here.”

“Where’s my brother?” I asked, cutting to the chase. If
Darcy was here, Brayden probably lurked not too far behind.

Some emotion I couldn’t place - pain, maybe? - clouded Darcy’s blue eyes a second before she blinked and her smile returned. “I think he went out back to have a cigar with your dad.”

I nodded, nearly rolling my eyes. “Of course.”
Another one of Dad’s bullshit traditions to make him feel more sophisticated. He doesn’t even fucking smoke except at parties.

Wanda hugged me when we entered the kitchen, where a flurry of black-and-white-decked servers flew about, entering and exiting with different dishes. Her eyes bulged when she saw Angel. “And who have we here?” she asked, taking Angel’s hands in her own and grasping them. “She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Angel said, blushing.

Darcy quickly looked away and occupied herself with pouring us some champagne.

I stared at her, my attention snapping around when Wanda said my name. “Oh,” I said, blinking and realizing she’d asked who Angel was. “This is my friend, Angela Davis. She’s been doing some modeling for my exhibition entry.”

“Your name suits you, my dear,” Wanda beamed, swooping in to place a kiss to each of Angel’s cheeks. “I’ve never seen a more radiant girl.”

“Thank you,” Angel said, sounding meek and shy. Her face turned nearly the color of her dress.

“All right,” Darcy said brightly, walking up with a small silver tray set with four full champagne flutes. “Who’s ready for a toast?”

“Actually, I was wondering where your bathroom is?” Angel asked. I noticed she’d been squirming in the car, doing that cute lip-thing she does, but I thought she’d just been nervous.

“Oh,” I said, pointing. “Down the hall and to your left.”

“Here, my dear,” Wanda said, taking her hand. “I’ll show you.”

Angel seemed to relax at her touch and she smiled. “Thank you.”

They walked down the hall. Angel caught my eye before she turned the corner, leaving Darcy and me in the kitchen.

“Well,” Darcy said after a moment of awkward silence. “Guess it’s just you and me. Drink?”

Something told me I was going to need one. I grabbed a flute and she set the tray down.

“To new beginnings,” Darcy said, raising her glass to mine.

“To new beginnings,” I murmured, clinking my glass with hers.

We both sipped in silence. I studied my ex. She fidgeted, not quite looking at me.

“Angel seems nice,” she said a little too brightly.

“Yes,” I said carefully. “She is.”

“And beautiful.”

I smiled. The way she’d looked at Angel earlier, sneaking glances from the corner of her eye and pretending like she didn’t care, flashed through my mind. “You were jealous,” I said quietly.

A long time passed before she answered. “Yes… but that doesn’t mean anything now.”

She almost sounded sad. My brows furrowed, but I didn’t ask her what that meant. I didn’t want to know. And that realization relieved me more than anything.

Darcy closed her eyes and sighed hard. “Listen, Devin, about Brayden-”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, cutting her off. “You don’t have to say anything.” Just because I no longer put Darcy on a pedestal didn’t mean I wanted to talk about how she’d dumped me for my brother.

She shook her head, her voice small. “I know I betrayed you. But I also want you to know I never meant to hurt you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

She winced, regret flashing on her face, and I growled a sigh. Walking to the sink, I dumped the rest of my champagne down the drain. I set the glass down, spreading my hands on the countertop and leaning forward. Despite everything she’d done, I couldn’t stay mad at her. Not after what I did to her and the pain I’d caused. “I’m sorry too,” I said quietly, my back turned to her. Outside, slate-gray clouds rolled in past the mountains in the distance. “I never meant to lose control that night.” I gripped the countertop, my knuckles turning white. There it was again, the terrible realization of what I’d done to her, the one person I swore never to hurt.

Darcy came up beside me and placed a hand on my arm. “I know,” she whispered. She swallowed and wetted her lips. “I know I never said it out loud, but I’ll say it now because I think you need to hear it: I forgive you.”

I didn’t realize how good it would feel to hear those three simple words. I stared at her face, searching her eyes and praying this wasn’t a dream. “Really?”

She nodded, a small smile on her pink lips. “Really.”

I suddenly felt ten times lighter. I exhaled, leaning against the counter. “Thank you.”

The click of heels to my right drew my attention, and I looked up to see my muse watching me with a smile on her face.
She heard
, I realized. And she hadn’t interrupted like some crazyass jealous girlfriend. As I stared at her, warmness growing in my chest, I realized my affection had changed. That it might be turning into something more.

“Where is my son?” came my father’s voice from the other direction. It was getting closer. “Where is the master photographer I created?”

I scowled, biting off my sarcastic quip before it had a chance to land me into trouble.
It doesn’t matter. You don’t care what he thinks, remember?
Then why did my palms start sweating at the thought of seeing him in a few seconds?

Lionel Thompson swaggered into the room with my mother on his arm like a queen, his proud gaze appraising me. “Son, Professor Stark’s been showing me some of your work. Impressive. I told you lighting effects made for stunning photography, though your technique could still use a little fine-tuning.” Behind him, Brayden smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

Darcy looked away, her petite lips pressed thin.

The dig stung, like it always did. Without meaning to, my eyes flashed to Angel, who stared murderously at my father or Brayden, I couldn’t tell. The moment I laid eyes on her, all my doubts vanished, replaced by that warm, sure glow.

My father’s eyes landed on her, and his expression immediately hardened. “Ah,” he said. “You must be the stripper my son’s been telling me all about.”

“Stripper?” my mother said, eyeing Angel coldly, like she was trash.

Red-hot anger boiled in my veins, and I stepped in front of Angel, hiding her from my parents’ scrutinizing view. “Her name is Angel,” I said firmly. “She’s been modeling for me.”

“I bet that’s not all she’s been doing,” Brayden muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

My fist clenched as I stared daggers at my baby brother. He stayed behind Mom and Dad, hiding like the coward he was.

Angel stepped around me, her hot gaze fixed on Brayden in warning.

He winked at her. “Did you heed my advice? About him?” He jerked a finger toward me. “Obviously you didn’t if you’re here. That, or you’re too stupid to stay away. Then again…” His eyes swept her from head to toe. “You’re just a dancer, so how could you possibly know better?”

Darcy covered her
mouth, blushing and looking like she wanted to be anywhere else.

I couldn’t blame her. I kind of did too.

“You were visiting her at work?” I said tightly. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was all about.” His eyes turned cruel. “Can’t say I’m impressed. She’s just another white trash girl not going anywhere fast.”

I stood there, shocked. Then my brain really began to process what he said.
He’s been trying to turn Angel and me against each other.

I started forward, determined to knock my parents aside to get to him if I had to, but Dad, Angel, and Darcy held me back.

Dad shoved me. “Get over yourself, Devin! There will be no fighting in this house, understood?”

His patronizing tone would have normally been enough to send me into a fit of rage, but I barely heard him. My mind was working too fast, piecing together the details from the first time Angel star
ted questioning me about my ex. Which was the moment I realized someone had gotten to her. She’d had bruises on her wrist from where someone had grabbed her, and when I’d asked her about them, she’d grown defensive and quiet.

Understanding dawned, and I wheeled my stunned face to my brother, my features contorting with rage. “You son of a bitch! How dare you touch her!”

“Devin, what are you talking about?” Mom shouted, her hands shaking. She glanced fearfully between my brother and me.

I pointed at Brayden. “That lowlife has done nothing but try to take away the things I love!”

“Oh, yeah? What about the person I loved you took away from me?” Brayden shouted back. “You knew Delia was addicted to ecstasy. Why did you take her to that party and then dare her to climb the fucking tower at Crescent Point? Huh? Why?”

I stared at him, stunned into silence. “All this time, this has been because of what happened a year ago?”

Brayden looked back at me with disgust. “What else did you think?” He was breathing hard, tears shining in his eyes. “I promised her I’d look out for her, and the moment I turn my back, you fuck it all up! I thought I could trust you! If I’d known you were going to fucking kill her, I would never have gone to work that night and left her home alone with you.”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe or blink. “I never meant for that to happen. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough!” Brayden screamed. “Sorry isn’t going to bring Delia back!”

“Let it go, Son,” Lionel said quietly.

“No,” Brayden spat, shaking his head. “No, I’m not going to let it go. You want to know why? Because that bastard has been allowed to get away with murder for too long. I don’t care if he’s your prodigy. The only reason you bailed him out of jail and had him change his appearance was so you could protect your legacy. You’ve never been proud of me or Delia. All we had were each other while you showered Devin in attention like he was some crown fucking prince to the photography empire you’ve built.”

No one spoke. Lionel wiped a hand over his face. “Ma
ybe if you weren’t such a screwup and more like me, I’d have something to proud of when I looked at you.”

“Dad,” I growled, but Brayden cut me off.

“No,” he said. “Don’t you dare defend me. I’m tired of the way everyone protects you. Darcy said it wasn’t your fault when you hit her. Mom said it wasn’t your fault when you never came to visit. And Dad’s been protecting your sorry ass in his own screwed-up way ever since you led Delia to her death. But I see you. I see you loud and clear for who and what you really are - a murderer.”

My fists shook at my sides as I stared down my brother. The guy I used to call my best friend, whom I could tell anything. Those days were gone, and it hurt like hell to realize I may never be able to get him back. “Brayden-”

“Save it,” he said, grabbing his coat and starting for the door. “I’m done with you.”

Darcy glanced at me, then went after him, leaving me alone with my parents and
Angel, who was hugging herself, looking very pale.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, then walked out as the first clap of thunder shook the house.

“Angel, wait,” I said, going after her.

“Son-” Lionel said, reaching for me, but I jerked out of his grasp.

“Don’t,” I growled, whirling on him. “Maybe you used to be my family, but I swear to God I don’t know who either of you are anymore.”

Mom looked stunned, but I didn’t care. She could have defended me. She didn’t have to be a bitch to Angel. She could have stuck up for me, or Brayden, or Delia all these years when Dad would belittle us or lose his temper and beat us. But she didn’t. She was a fucking coward. Deep down, I knew that was the real reason I hadn’t been to visit. It was because she never stood up for me. She wanted to be pampered like a child, and I had enough problems of my own to even begin to sort out her shit. I was tired of being the adult. I was tired of having to coddle my own mother, and tired of trying to live up to my father’s expectations. Most of all, I was tired of paying the pric
e for what I’d done. I’d fucked-up. I knew that. But Brayden never seemed to be able to let it go, and as I trailed after Angel along the pea gravel driveway in the pouring rain, I prayed his scorn hadn’t cost me my muse, my whole purpose for fucking breathing.

“Angel, wait,” I said, coming up behind her and grabbing her hand.

Her skin was wet with rainwater, easily slipping out of my grasp as she turned and shook her head. “Devin, please don’t follow me. I need some space.”

“Angel, it’s pouring
.” Already I could feel my clothes soaking through, but it didn’t matter. The thin material of her dress clung to her lithe form, accentuating every curve. Under any other circumstances, I would have been turned on, but seeing her on the verge of tears broke my heart. “Please, come back inside.”

“No!”

I blinked at her outburst.

She ran a hand through her dripping hair, then gestured at the house. “Don’t you get it? I’m never going to belong here.”