Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Dallas Costa: And instead of proceeding with cybersecurity training, you refused, so they fired you.
Frankie Townsend: my influencer career will take off. just you wait.
Chapter Ninety-Five
Oliver
Trial Day Twenty-Eight.
When it came to my inevitable reconciliation with Sebastian, I always wrote it off as a certainty. A matter of when, not if.
I approached our stilted brotherhood with a brand of optimism Sebastian absolutely loathed, knowing that if I stayed by his side, if I showed him he had me in his life no matter what he looked like and how he behaved, we would find a way to bury the hatchet.
And so, Sebastian spent the past fifteen years proving me wrong. Almost intentionally.
Which was why I didn’t register where we were – or what it meant that he was down here – when he materialized beside me in the living room in broad daylight with staff milling about.
I had my body propped up against the wall, peeking at the lake through the open patio doors. I’d ditched the last four days of work, not bothering to show up, since Eli stopped hounding me with calls. Maybe he’d come to the realization that he, too, could function without me.
Sebastian kicked an empty bottle of Jack, watching it roll into the kitchen. “Are you singlehandedly reviving the alcohol industry?”
“The alcohol industry needs no reviving.” I clutched the bottle in my fist tighter, not putting it past him to pry it from my fingers. “It thrives on misery, and there’s plenty of that to go around.”
Realistically, I knew Briar would return to the U.S. eventually, but since our trial began, it occurred to me that between our work schedules and my twice weekly commitment to Sebastian, we wouldn’t see each other for more than thirty to forty days a year.
Sebastian’s toe nudged my limp leg. “This is pathetic.”
“Fuck off.”
“You missed Days of Our Lives.”
“No, I didn’t.” I let my back fall to the hardwood, fighting a gust of wind from the open patio. In the distance, the lake roared with unusually strong waves.
Seb hovered above me, his eyes nervously flicking left and right. “It’s Thursday.”
“Can’t be. I have a business meeting Wednesday, and I haven’t gone.”
“You missed it. Dad took over.”
That snapped me out of it.
“He did?” I poked my head out the patio door, lolling it half onto the pavement because I couldn’t bring myself to move my whole torso.
“What are you doing?”
I stared up at the clouds. “Waiting for the flying pigs to pass by.”
Maybe I hadn’t hallucinated that conversation with Dad. But that didn’t make sense either. That would require doing something other than mourning his still-alive children.
Sebastian sneered down his nose at me. “Congratulations. You’re officially the most embarrassing von Bismarck.”
I straightened, finally getting a good look at him. He wore a pair of Gentle Monster sunglasses and faded jeans coupled with a Harvard hoodie. It was almost normal, save for the hood pulled over his head, scrunched as tight as the strings would allow and triple-knotted to form the tiniest hole possible for him to peer through.
“Wait.” I blinked, wondering if this, too, was a mirage. “You left your cave.”
“Yeah, well … someone has to make sure you don’t drown in a pool of your own puke.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “You look like shit, by the way.”
“So everyone’s been saying.” I spun back to the lake. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. “Still remember what the sun looks like?”
It had started to slip below the horizon, casting the room in a hazy orange glow. We had another five or ten minutes before it disappeared entirely, but I figured my hallucination and I could enjoy it together.
“Looks the same as I remember, except with more pollution.” Seb claimed the space beside me, his mouth twitching in an almost smile. It faded into a scowl as I burped in his face. He fanned away the stench. “I should’ve let you drown in self-pity. Unfortunately for me, I’m feeling charitable today.”
I snorted, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Since when do you do charity work?”
“Since my sole source of groceries turned into a drunk cliché from a direct-to-cable movie.” His brows shot up, peeking past his sunglasses. “I mean, seriously … Sitting in the dark, guzzling whiskey by the gallon, and staring into the lake? What’s next? You gonna write her a sad letter, tuck it inside a glass bottle, and throw it in the water? I’ve seen the movie. Spoiler alert: she never reads it.”
“Tempting. Maybe I’ll throw myself in while I’m at it.”
“Let’s refrain from the dramatic gestures. You’re kinda monopolizing the drama in this family. It’s exhausting to watch.”
I swiveled to face him, swaying into the doorframe as I jabbed a thumb into my chest. “I’m exhausting to watch?”
“Eh. You’re a shitty genre. Too much tragedy. Not enough explosions.”