King of Greed (Kings of Sin #3) by Ana Huang

Marcelo observed me, his amusement fading into something softer. “You look much happier than when you landed. The vacation has been good to you.”

“Yeah.” I glided my fingers through the water, watching the sunlight sparkle on the surface. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

I didn’t know why I’d felt like I couldn’t visit without Dominic. God knew he went on enough trips without me. Perhaps if I had, I would’ve gained the clarity to speak up sooner.

Would things be different if I’d put my foot down the first time Dominic missed an important date? Maybe. But I couldn’t change the past, so there was no use dwelling on what ifs.

“Perhaps,” Marcelo said. “You sounded sad the last few times we spoke on the phone.”

How I’d sounded hadn’t compared to the sadness I’d felt, but I kept that to myself. “It’s an adjustment period, which is why I’m here. Adjusting.”

It was working. Sort of. I’d only thought about Dominic a dozen times a day since I’d arrived instead of the usual two to three dozen.

Baby steps.

“Hmm.” My brother didn’t look convinced. “And what happens when you go home?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

I hadn’t booked my return flight to New York yet. Luckily, the upcoming holidays meant construction work on the store was slowing down, and I’d put the online shop on hiatus. Isabella had offered to keep an eye on things while I was gone. She’d worked for Floria Designs before she’d gotten published, and she still helped out occasionally when I needed an extra hand. She was one of the few people I trusted to manage the contractors in my absence.

“I don’t want to push, but we have to discuss the elephant in the room sometime,” Marcelo said gently. “When was the last time you talked to Dominic?”

I flinched at the mention of his name. My brother and I had avoided the topic of my divorce like the plague since we’d arrived, but he was right. We had to talk about it, and I guess he’d been waiting for the right time to bring it up—aka a time when we were relaxing in public so I couldn’t lock myself in my room or use our activities as a deflection.

“Last week,” I admitted. “Before I called you. We were at the same restaurant, and he saw me on a…he saw me when I was having dinner with a friend.” I returned Marcelo’s scrutiny with a hesitant look of my own. “I’m sorry. I know you guys are close.”

Marcelo and Dominic had hit it off right away, partly because they’d shared similar struggles with dyslexia growing up and partly because my gregarious brother could charm a rock if he needed to.

I was protective of Marcelo, who’d been bullied relentlessly in his younger years, and though I’d already loved Dominic when they’d met, their easy friendship had made me fall even harder.

“Don’t apologize. It’s your relationship,” Marcelo said, his voice gentling further. “I liked Dom a lot, but we’ll never be as close as you and me. You’re my sister. I’ll always have your back.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Don’t get all sentimental on me, Marcy. It’s still your turn to take out the garbage tonight.”

His laugh made a quick return. “Fine. I should’ve known buttering you up wouldn’t work,” he teased. “But seriously, don’t worry about me. Do what’s good for you, and this…” He swept his arm around the beach. “This is good for you. You jumped straight from taking care of me to your marriage. It’s time you enjoyed life without worrying about others.”

“I didn’t mind taking care of you.”

“I know. But that doesn’t make what I said less true. You skipped your own senior trip to help me study for an English test. You’ve spent your life living for others. Now you can finally live for yourself.”

I watched other beachgoers splash around us while Marcelo’s words replayed in my head.

I’d never thought of it that way, but he had a point. Our mother had spent our childhood working, partying, and dating increasingly rich but dubious men. I was the result of a one-night stand with someone she’d been too drunk to remember; Marcelo was the son of a married Brazilian businessman who’d threatened our mother with bodily harm if she ever told people about their affair.

We were half-siblings, but despite being born only two years apart, I’d acted more like his mother than his sister until we were both adults. I couldn’t rely on our actual mother to parent him properly, so I’d done it myself.

Perhaps that was why I’d slipped so easily into the role of Dominic’s spouse. I was used to being the support instead of the star in my own life.

I was trying to change that with Floria Designs and my divorce, but all big changes took time.

“Enough maudlin stuff.” I swallowed the emotion crowding my throat and nodded at the horizon. “You want to talk about living? Talk about that giant wave that’s coming toward us.”

Marcelo cursed, and soon, all thoughts of Dominic, neglectful mothers, and absent fathers drowned beneath the exhilaration of living. New York would always be there; this moment wouldn’t.

Once we got tired of surfing, we retired to the sand for sunbathing and drinks. We stayed at the beach for another two hours until golden hour painted the sky with oranges and yellows and exhaustion tugged at my eyelids.