Chapter 97: I Have Great Boobs
She hadn’t been able to save the day, but at least someone else had. The thought gave her a strange kind of comfort.
"Are you sure he’s going to keep quiet?" Sylvia asked.
Trish snorted, tossing her curls over her shoulder with a grin. "Trust me," she said, a mischievous spark in her eye. "He’s been wanting to see my boobs since forever. That man would take the secret to his grave."
Sylvia actually laughed in response, a real belly laugh. "I’m sure that’s a great bribe."
"I have great boobs."
Joey caught sight of Sylvia’s laugh as the two women reappeared. He couldn’t help but be drawn to it. It was nice she sounded happy.
They reached the archway overlooking the house entrance just as the music shifted. Ivy and Winn stepped into view, hand in hand.
Trish felt her chest loosen. Ivy looked radiant in her gown, her laughter genuine even though Trish knew her best friend was shaking inside. Winn couldn’t take his eyes off her, and for that single moment, everything felt perfect.
Sylvia exhaled softly beside her, her lips curving into a bittersweet smile. "You know," she murmured, "I think they’ll actually make it."
"How can you be so sure?" Trish asked.
Sylvia didn’t take her eyes off the couple. "Look at him," she said softly. "He’s looking at her like the sun rises in her eyes. He’s in love with her, Trish. Deeply."
Trish followed her gaze, letting her eyes settle on Winn, his arm around Ivy. And Ivy—gorgeous in that dress, radiant even beneath the press of camera flashes—looked up at him as if she’d found her anchor.
Trish huffed, trying to dispel the sudden tightness in her throat. "In my world," she said with a smirk, "we call that the look of a whipped man. Everyone else sees it except the both of them."
Sylvia let out a soft laugh. "Maybe that’s what makes it real," she murmured. "When it’s so obvious to the world, and yet the two people inside it are too close to see it themselves."
Sylvia lifted her hand in a small, trembling wave to her brother, a smile touching her lips even as her throat tightened. It was a silent gesture. I’m here. I’m cheering for you.
And maybe, I’m sorry.
Because in that moment, Sylvia decided she was done. Done being complicit.
Her decision came with a strange peace, and a deep, gnawing grief. Losing Joey—her first love, her greatest mistake—suddenly didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world anymore. Losing Winn would be.
She thought of how, when she was younger, Winn had been her shield—standing up for her against their father’s biting words, holding her when she cried. Winn had been her safe place.
A tear slid down her cheek, catching in the soft curl of her lip gloss before falling away. She didn’t bother to wipe it.
Winn raised a glass, his deep voice carrying easily through the crowd as he introduced Ivy as his fiancée. The crowd erupted in polite applause, camera flashes lighting up the courtyard. Ivy’s hand trembled slightly in his. She looked terrified and radiant all at once.
Everyone wanted a glimpse of the new addition to the Kane family—the woman who had somehow captured the elusive, enigmatic Winn Kane.
Trish leaned closer. "She’s killing it. Look at that composure. Damn, she was born for this."
Sylvia gave a small smile. "Love makes people stronger," she said.
Sylvia’s eyes found her mother in the crowd as she smiled at Ivy.
As the applause died down and Winn bent to kiss Ivy’s hand, Sylvia whispered under her breath, "You deserve this, big brother. Every damn bit of it."
Her thoughts shifted uneasily to her father. She didn’t know what his plan was to "get her Joey," but when Tom Kane said he’d get something done, he did.
A server passed, offering a tray of red wine and whiskey tumblers. Sylvia almost reached for one before stopping herself mid-motion, her fingers trembling. She forced a smile. "Still a suicidal recovering addict," she muttered to herself.
Trish noticed and nudged her playfully. "If I were you, I’d take two. You look like you need it."
Sylvia laughed softly. "You’re not wrong. But my brother would have a stroke."
"Fine, I’ll drink for the both of us," Trish declared, snagging a glass and downing it in one gulp. Her boldness earned a genuine laugh from Sylvia. Together, they made their way toward the mingling couple.
Winn and Ivy stood at the center of the crowd—people orbiting them, eager to bask in their glow. Winn’s hand rested possessively at her lower back, his thumb making small, unconscious circles.
They joined the group—Sharona, Ben, Tom, Joey, Diane—all laughing and sipping, their chatter blending into the hum of polite society. Joey’s gaze lingered on Sylvia longer than it should have.
The air around the group was light and teasing until Sharona dropped her bomb.
"Ben, don’t you know Ivy?"
The chatter halted. Sylvia’s pulse jumped. Trish froze mid-sip, eyes flicking sharply to Ivy.
Ben hesitated. His gaze met Ivy’s, and Sylvia didn’t need to be a mind-reader to see it—the flash of panic in Ivy’s wide eyes, the stiffness in her shoulders. Winn must have felt it too because his hand tightened protectively around hers.
Ben cleared his throat. "No... no, I don’t think so. I don’t think we’ve ever met. Have we?" He turned to Ivy again.
"No, I don’t believe so. Maybe you’re confusing me with someone else." Ivy said to Sharona.
Winn looked from Ivy to Ben, suspicion clouding his expression. Ivy’s fingers trembled slightly in his grasp.
Sylvia wanted to help somehow—to steer the conversation elsewhere—but her own unease anchored her in place. She glanced at her father. He was watching too.
"You work at Commissioned, don’t you?" Sharona pushed while glaring at Ben.
"Ah!" one of the guests burst out suddenly, oblivious to the tension. "Commissioned! I love that place!"
Joey, quick on his feet seized the distraction. "Me too!" he said loudly, raising his glass. "Used to go there every Friday night. Well—" he winked at his wife, earning a few chuckles, "—until I got married. Sorry, darling."