Twisted Love (Modern Romance #3) - Piper Lawson Page 0,81

from the other side of the limo. “You need a drink.”

I turn the award over in my hands. I want to tell him to mind his own damn business. Instead I buzz down the divider and bark out the name of a gritty place I like.

We get out at the bar and I follow my brother out of the limo.

“Oh, we can’t leave this behind,” he says dryly, hoisting my award.

Once inside, he orders us a booth, but I shake my head. “Let’s sit at the bar.”

I take the crystal statue from him and set it on the sticky bar before unfastening my tie with the other hand.

I used to love this bar but now, taking in the faded wood and dingy surfaces, I can't fathom how.

When our drinks are set in front of us, Tris says, “You know, for a moment, you looked like you owned everything in the world.”

“The award doesn’t mean anything. Xavier all but said I won’t be succeeding him.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His sharp tone has me looking up. “You looked like that when you danced with her.”

The words land like embers in my already stinging gut.

I kissed her, pretending it was for show, but it was because I couldn’t not kiss her. After, she wove her way through the dance floor, leaving my fucking heart bleeding out without knowing which of us tore it first.

“It wasn’t real, Tris. None of it was. We were supposed to be fooling the world. But the whole fucking time, she was fooling me.”

"What are you talking about?"

I stare him down over my glass and fill him in—on what happened then and now.

“She lied.” I take a long drink that does little to soothe my anger.

“So did you. To yourself and to her.”

I glare at him. “That’s why I’ve kept my distance from this bullshit. I can take risks at the office because, at the end of the day, you pick yourself up and do better the next day. But when it’s your heart… you risk everything. Your life, your pride, your soul.”

Daisy put a hole in my chest tonight, and her admission is acid, corroding the edges every second I think of it.

“I know how much it tore you up to watch Mom and Dad,” Tris weighs in. “But what you and Daisy have is different. If you don’t see it, you’re a bigger moron than I thought.”

His dig glances off me. Nothing he can say could fuck me up more than I’m already fucked up tonight.

What could we have had?

I play it out in my mind, a hundred snapshots of a thousand days. Waking up with her in my bed. Holding her when she’s upset. Spending weekends together traveling, taking a fucking vacation even. Laughing and joking.

But it wouldn’t work. We’d eventually have a fight that couldn’t be solved with me inside her.

Something else would happen to bring up those emotions again, to make me feel helpless and angry and lost, and we’d end up the same way.

Alone.

28

“Another battle down,” Camila says at my shoulder.

I force myself to smile. “This is quite the battle gear.”

I nod toward her gorgeous cream gown and matching gloves. The diamonds at her ears blink as she angles her head, clearly relieved the program is over.

“The shoes are killing me. Come with me while I swap them out.”

I follow her to the coat check, where she grabs a Louis Vuitton weekender bag, and on to the empty powder room, a huge expanse of white and gray marble with three unoccupied stalls.

There are thirty people at the rehearsal dinner Wednesday, most of whom are familiar. It’s the home stretch for the Vane wedding events. By the end of this weekend, it will be over.

“I didn’t grow up with this,” Camila says through her smile as she sets her bag on a chair in the corner. She tugs off one pump, sighing with pleasure as she steps barefoot onto the marble. “I went to school in the States, but my parents live in Cape Town, and they don’t approve of Aiden.”

Normally I’d be intrigued, but my interest in everything is dulled this week. “Really.”

She takes off the other shoe too, wiggling her toes on the floor. “Technically they don’t approve of this wedding. Would you mind?” She nods to the bag and I unzip it, finding a pair of elegant, cream Louboutin flats.

“Why don’t they approve?” I ask, holding out the shoes. “You could have your pick of men. It seems you could