“I’m fine, Pip. That’s probably wrong, but I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Now, go. Take my car.” She handed me her valet tag.
“Pip?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t bring Matthew.”
She smiled. “I won’t.”
Her fiancé, Matthew, was a dick. I didn’t like him, but I tolerated him. The whole family did. I was fresh out of tolerance. The last thing I wanted to deal with was the guy I thought was a sleazeball and not good enough for my little sister. Matthew acted like he was God’s gift to the world and my sister was lucky to have him. I might have been biased, but my sister was a ten and Matthew was barely pushing a six. He was punching way above his weight. He acted like she was the lucky one to have him.
The valet gave me a strange look when I handed him the ticket, but thankfully, he said nothing about the fact the groom was going out the back before the wedding started. My beach house was only a few miles from my parents’ sprawling estate where the reception was being held.
The moment I was through the door, I lost the jacket, cufflinks, and cummerbund, dropping everything on the floor as I walked to the bar. I poured a glass of the Macallan scotch I loved. I took the first drink, letting the smooth liquid scorch its way down my throat. It landed in my empty belly, spreading warmth through my body. I unbuttoned the top few buttons of the shirt and stared out the window at the ocean beckoning to me. The sun was low on the horizon, casting orange and pink splashes across the sky. I kicked off my shoes and peeled off my socks, leaving them where I stood.
With the bottle in one hand and my glass in the other, I stepped outside, following the wooden footpath down to the shore. I flopped down in the sand, not giving a shit I was in very expensive tuxedo pants. I couldn’t figure out whether to be pissed or bummed. The answer was at the bottom of the bottle and I intended to get to it.
“I thought I would find you out here.” Penelope, still in her blue evening gown, sat on the sand beside me. She reached for my glass and took a drink before giving it back to me.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“As you would expect. Don’t worry about it. This was a dry run for Mom. She’ll know what not to do for my wedding.”
“Like count on the bride showing up?”
“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. “She was kind of a bitch anyway. I think you dodged a bullet. The divorce would have been messy. You would probably lose your beach house and at least one of your cars. You would lose the house in Maine and who knows what else?”
“True.”
“When do you leave?”
“What?” I asked with confusion.
“For your honeymoon.”
“Very funny,” I muttered and refilled the glass.
“You need to go. Don’t sit around here sulking. Go sit on a beach with a waiter delivering fruity drinks with umbrellas while you soak up the sun. It’ll give time for things to die down around here. Do you really want to deal with Mom and Dad?”
“No.” The two weeks off was already scheduled. “Maybe I will go.”
“Hey, maybe I’ll go with you! Yes! That will be so much fun. I’m already a Ryatt.”
“You expect me to take my sister on my honeymoon? Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”
“I’m not going to act like your bride,” she said, snorting. “I could use the chance to get away. And you and I haven’t hung out in a long time. It’ll be fun. Please, Archer.”
I looked at her and saw her quietly begging. We weren’t the kind of family that talked about feelings, but I could see she was stressed. “Fine.”
“Let’s go.”
“Right now?” I asked as she jumped up.
She reached for my hand and pulled me up. “Yes. It’s not like you have to wait for your flight. Call the pilot. I’m going home to pack. I’ll meet you at the airstrip.”
“I’m not sure I can get a flight crew ready tonight.” Despite my protests, I followed her back to my house.