Standing in the doorway, I do a quick scan of the room as I give the hostess my father’s name. It had taken a hefty shot of vodka in my morning orange juice to get me here. I’d have gone for a couple more if I thought I could get away with it.

She leads me through the dining room, weaving between tables and chairs at break-neck speed.

Jesus, her route is twisty and convoluted enough to cause motion sickness—I absolutely refuse to accept the reality that my nausea is more likely a result of a hangover coupled with a hair of the dog.

Between keeping up with the hostess and avoiding collisions with furniture and people, my gaze doesn’t rise above waist height until we reach our destination.

I look up, expecting to see my father. Instead, I come face to face with my shame from the night before. I’m about to tell the woman she’s made a mistake when I hear my father’s voice.

His polite, angry voice.

The one he only uses on me in public.

The one that tells me I’m in deep, deep shit, but tells the rest of the world nothing.

“So glad you could join us.” He remains seated, and I notice he’s holding his new wife’s hand.

Envy. I’m puke-green with it.

Witnessing him publicly show affection is almost more than I can bear. I’ve spent my whole life trying to earn just one loving touch from him.

I blink back tears and bury my feelings. I will not fucking cry over this. He’s not worth it.

Instead, I steel myself for an unpleasant meal. Made even more so as I put one and one together and come up with stepbrother.

My morning just keeps getting better. I’ve fucked a sibling. Well, not in any true sense of the word—we’re both adults and have never lived under the same roof, but I’m sure there are people on the planet that would get all judge-y about it anyway. My father and new stepmother would probably top the list.

It was a mistake for me to go against my instincts and make this a wedding no-show hat-trick.

Oh well, the only option I have left now is to brazen it out. Pretend my asshole stepbrother and I have never met, and hope to hell he does the same.

“Sorry, I’m a little late.” My voice is so hoarse, you’d think I’d just chain-smoked a whole carton of cigarettes. I guess crying the night away has pretty much the same result.

“We’ll discuss this later. In private.”

Oh, that’s bad.

My father turns to face the woman next to him and says, “Frances, Heath, this is my daughter, Georgia.”

I look at my new stepfamily and nod, not ready to trust my voice yet.

Heath half stands and holds out his hand. Honestly? I’m supposed to shake it, after what we’d done last night? Knowing those fingers have been deep inside my body? Then I realize he’s playing the game I so badly need him to play, so I meet him halfway and shake. His hand is warm and soft, and even though I’m an emotional wreck right now, his touch makes my lower belly quiver. A most inappropriate and unwelcome response, and I try hard to ignore it.

I’m not successful. And that annoys me.

After Heath, I reach over to shake Frances’s hand, and take the empty seat across from my father. It is also the empty seat directly next to Heath. I just need to keep my eyes on the table and everything will be fine. I drop my purse to the floor and shrug out of my cardigan, letting it fall on the seat between me and the back of the chair.

One look at the cups on the table and I have my excuse to get away from them for a few minutes. “I’m just going to grab a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll join you,” Heath says. “I could use a refill, and we can bring some back for my mom and your dad.”

Not fucking likely. “I’m sure you must all be hungry. How about you get yourselves food, and I’ll get us all coffee?”

“I can wait,” my father’s favorite says as he rises from his chair and starts gathering cups. “George, how about you and Mom head to the buffet while Georgia and I get the coffee? We can grab our own food and join you after.”

“Excellent idea, son. We’ll meet you back here in a few.”

Son? My father called this miserable fuck of an asshole, son.

Of course he did.

Penis.

I have a bitter moment of regret for not using my teeth after all.

My father and his new wife hold hands as they wend their way between tables to the buffet and I fight another wave of tears as a childhood memory of my father and my mom flashes through my mind.

We were in the back yard. I was playing in my wading pool and they were on the porch swing, holding hands. I remember my dad cupping my mom’s cheek and kissing her. At the time, I’d thought it was yucky. Now, I’d give my entire trust fund to be there in that moment.

Swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, I stand and turn toward the coffee station. Unfortunately, Heath is right there with me.

His smile appears friendly enough. His words are anything but. “I was bang-on last night when I pegged you as a bad girl. I just didn’t realize it was the selfish bitch kind of bad. Here’s the way this is going to go. We continue on like this is the first time we’ve met. When we’re done, we go our separate ways, and you continue to skip family functions. However, in future, you will respectfully decline instead of rudely ignoring the invitation. Got it?”

I shoot him a grin. “Works for me.”

Boy, does it ever.