Page 121 of Rush

I force a smile, raising mine. Inside, I’m cracked open.

Broderick gives my hand a squeeze.

“To family,” Mortimer says.

“To family,” the room echoes.

I echo too—through clenched teeth.

Across the table, Philippa watches me, gauging my reaction. For once, I let her see. Let her know it lands like a grenade. But I won’t risk another meltdown. This weekend isn’t about me. It’s about my sister.

Because as skeptical as I want to be, another part of me aches to believe him. Always on the outside looking in—it’s exhausting.

When the dinner finally ends, I slip away to my dimly lit room. The fire already going, casting gold across the walls.

My phone buzzes.

I chuckle despite myself. He always finds a way to pull a smile from me, even when I’m low.

Broderick

Want some company, Eleanor?

Elena

Not tonight, Beauford. I’ll see you at the altar.

Broderick

I’ll be the one in a tux.

Elena

I think I’m in a polka dot jumpsuit.

Broderick

You’d look sexy in anything.

Elena

And even better in nothing.

Broderick

I’ll be there in five minutes.

Elena

Behave. Good night, Beauford.

Broderick

Good night, baby.

By the time I finish a long, steamy shower, Philippa is curled up on my couch in silk pajamas, clay mask perfectly applied, tea in hand.

Minutes later, I match her—mask cracked, hair piled up, mugs of tea between us. We look as far from glamorous as possible. A welcome reprieve.