Page 108 of Love What's Left
“In this family, we sing,” Charlotte says firmly, then hesitates and asks in concern, “unless you’d rather we didn’t?”
“It’s not that. But Gabriel is missing.”
“What do you mean,missing?” Charlotte scans the back patio and lawn with worried eyes.
“I just meant he’s inside the house,” I say.
A sheepish smile creases her face as she wipes her palms down her white capri pants. “It’s not your fault. The wordmissingis always going to give me a jolt. Sorry about that.”
Phee and Rory inch closer to the cake. With a sly grin at his sister, he swipes his finger through frosting. Immediately, his mother guides him backward by the shoulders, then crouches beside him, speaking quietly in a serious tone. He nods guiltily.
As soon as Bronwyn stands up and looks away, he looks at his frosting-covered finger, shrugs and stuffs it in his mouth. Afterward, he makes eye contact with me and yells, “Sorry, Aunt Syddie.”
I fight my smile, unwilling to undermine his mother. “Thank you for apologizing.”
“I can’t see Gabriel wanting us all to wait on him,” Charlotte says as she lights the candles.
He won’t make drama over it or complain, but part of me knows he’ll be disappointed.
The patio doors open, and Gabriel steps outside onto the stone-terraced space. I smile and Charlotte waves him over even as she starts the crowd singing.
The flaming cake looks like something out of a magazine or Pinterest board. I chew the inside of my cheek and look back toward Gabriel . . . just in time to see him stumble on the bottom step.
I catch my breath, my stomach pinching at the wobble in his gait. One of the security guys approaches him. Gabriel waves off whatever he said, but after only two more steps, the guard catches him by the elbow to prevent him from face-planting onto the patio.
Shock holds me immobile, my brain buzzing with horror and denial.He didn’t go in there and get wasted at my birthday party.Why would he?
“I’m fine,” Gabriel yells, his tone belligerent.
A few of our friends and family turn to see the commotion. Meanwhile, I stand frozen in the moment. Desperate for this not to be real.
“Blow out your candles, Aunt Syddie. They’re melting,” Phee says.
Time starts once more, and I rush toward my husband. “You and Rory do it for me, okay?” I call over my shoulder.
Murmurs and exclamations sound behind me. Janessa and Bronwyn reach me the same time I get to Gabriel. Gabriel closes his eyes and appears to stop trying to stay upright. He sags against the guard, who supports his weight.
“How could you do this on her birthday?” Bronwyn asks, her voice a guttural whisper.
He blinks his green eyes open slowly and, frowning, presses his palm to his temple. “Shhhhooh.”
Gabriel’s parents join us, both of their faces wreathed with conflicting emotions, but I barely spare them a glance.
Janessa tugs on my arm. “Come on, Sydney.” She shoots a venomous glare at Gabriel. “I’ll help you pack and move to your apartment.”
It takes a second, but Janessa’s words finally appear to break through my shock and Gabriel’s haze.
“No. Don’t.” He lifts a hand toward me, then lets it flop at his side.
My gaze narrows on his slack face, dilated pupils, and uncoordinated movements.
He blinks at me stupidly. “I need you,” he slurs.
“He doesn’t smell like alcohol, but he’s on something,” Bronwyn says.
“Obviously,” I snap, pulling away from Janessa to get closer to Gabriel. “That doesn’t mean he chose to take it.”
Bronwyn’s eyes soften. “I love him with all my heart, but Gabriel has a track record.”
