How could they know him and not love him?
“Come on.” I took his hand and led him through the house to the back deck where Dad was chatting animatedly with a long-haired blond man, while Miss Perfect herself sat beside him picking at her nails. This must be the boyfriend.
“Holy shit! Cian O’Leary!” Dad burst out of his chair in a rush, his hand leading the way for a firm shake. “What are you doing here? Duckie, you didn’t tell me you were bringing Cian O’Leary to the house. How’s the head, son? That was one hell of a knock you took last night.”
Cian looked slightly overwhelmed, but took it well.
“Nothing a little rest won’t fix. It’s good to meet you, sir.”
Dad took Cian by the elbow, leading him to the table and pulling out the chair beside him. With nothing else to do, I grabbed a couple of sodas from the bar fridge and joined them.
The blond guy offered me a smile as I sat beside Cian.
“Hi, I’m Weston.”
“Blair,” I said, flicking a glance at Georgia.
“How much did you have to pay him to come here?” she asked in lieu of a greeting. Great. Nothing had changed since we last spoke. Still a bitch.
“I didn’t.”
She snorted, rolling her eyes as she sat back with her wine glass. Weston glanced between us, a small frown creasing his brow.
“Oh! Hey, you play for the Engines, right?” I asked as the answer to where I’d seen his face before suddenly hit me.
“Yeah, I do. I play fullback. Do you watch?”
“Whenever I can, the hockey season keeps me busy though.”
“That’s sport, isn’t it?” We shared a knowing smile, and I ignored the dark cloud beside him. How the hell did such a nice guy get sucked in by the likes of her?
Mom brought out the appetizers, and Cian slid a hand over my knee as she joked he should “Blink twice” if he was being held against his will. I gritted my teeth against a retort as my family echoed the words of internet trolls who had never met me.
Wasn’t family supposed to support each other?
I looked across at Georgia, so perfectly put together with her designer clothing, her immaculate makeup and size zero waist. She picked at her appetizer half-heartedly, and barely touched her entrée as Mom swapped the plates over.
When was the last time we had been comfortable in each other’s company? Let alone friendly.
Not since we hit puberty. Maybe not before.
“Hey, Cian. Do you know why Blair is called Duckie? Tell him, Blair. It’s funny. It’s because she’s the ugly duckling. Get it?”
Maybe never.
She scooped some potatoes from the bowl in the center of the table and, predictably, Mom clicked her tongue.
“Do you really need that, Georgia? You won’t keep your job long if you stack on more weight.”
Weston and Cian looked between Georgia and Mom, their mouths slightly open in horror.
This is my family, I wanted to tell them.Run while you still have a chance.
Instead, we all ate in silence until Mom put her cutlery down with a sigh.
“It really was nice of you to be here with Blair today, but I can’t in good conscience let you get her hopes up. If this is transactional, that’s fine, but if not… this is just cruel.”
“What…do you mean?” Cian asked, his grip tightening on my knee.
