Page 260 of Double or Nothing

My brain struggles to catch up.

The idea of a diamond glinting on Alice’s ring finger feels alien. So at odds with the girl carrying a tatty old mug, it’s insane.

Soul Girl wheeled a case out of here this morning like she was going off on a vacation to absolute hell. Silently fighting off the shackles of a life she didn’t want to be a part of.

And apparently she’s now buckled up those shackles for herself, surrounded by cheers and champagne.

The idea of Alice getting engaged to Christopher is savage enough to give me a sucker punch right in the ribs, even through my thick shell of I don’t give a fuck. If it’s hurting me, it must be putting Bryce’s heart through a fucking blender.

This is why freedom is easier. Full fucking stop.

No promises. No expectations. No waiting to discover whether somebody matters enough to drive a knife in.

“Well, well, well,” I say. “The Otley prince marked his territory on night number one. Took a piss on his new possession in front of a live audience. Strong fucking move.”

Bryce’s eyes snap towards mine.

“Don’t do this.”

“What?”

“Turn it into one of your I don’t care performances.”

His words stab harder than I’d expect them to.

“I’m simply stating the truth. The Chicago prince returns, Daddy Parker lays out the welcome mat and Alice becomes Mrs Family Alliance like a good girl on night number one. Everybody lives profitably ever after.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Christopher proposed, and she nodded. Sounds remarkably like that to me.”

I hate how bitter my own voice is sounding.

Bryce rubs his puffy eyes. Wipes his nose against the cuff of his jacket.

“She did it because Christopher told her Trevor Otley was dying,” he says, and everything inside me stills.

“What? Trevor Otley? Christopher’s dad, you mean?”

Bryce nods.

“He told her his father had terminal cancer. Months left. He said Trevor wanted Christopher settled before he died.”

“Trevor is dying? Jesus Christ.”

Bryce’s puffy eyes look so full of rage.

“No. He’s not. He’s fit and healthy, and planning golf trips to Miami next year.”

Bryce’s answer lands hard and cold.

“It was a lie,” Bryce says and drags both hands through his hair

“You know that for certain, do you? That Christopher made that bollocks up?”

“Yes, I do. Trevor and Bill were planning their trip last week. They spent twenty minutes comparing hotels and courses. Trevor was checking the flights himself.”

The deception takes shape in my mind. My picture of the board sharpening. Coming into focus.