His Shortcake

Chapter 36

Tamara Ramirez

"Alec..." I called softly, surprised to find him waiting on the couch dressed in his pajamas. The coffee table was overflowing with food, an assortment that seemed both inviting and overwhelming. But what struck me most was the state he was in—messed up and broken, like a shattered mirror reflecting only fragments of who he once was.

His eyes were red, swollen with unshed tears, and dark circles underlined his gaze, the telltale signs of sleepless nights etched across his face. His hair was tousled, sticking up in all directions, as if he hadn't bothered to tame it in days.

"Mara. Come sit and eat with me," he said, his voice strained, forcing a fake smile that didn't reach his eyes. He gestured toward the spread of food before him, trying to appear inviting. When I hesitated, he patted the space beside him, a silent invitation that I felt compelled to accept.

Still in shock at my brother's disheveled appearance, I dropped my bag carelessly on the floor and sank onto the couch beside him. My eyes remained glued to his face, searching for the truth behind that feigned smile. "Alec. What happened?" I asked, my voice a whisper, heavy with concern.

He responded with another fleeting, hollow smile before shifting his attention to the feast laid out before us. "I got chicken, pizza, ice cream, soft drinks, and some other things I just bought from every store I passed on my way home earlier." His words felt distant, as if he was reciting a grocery list rather than sharing something meaningful.

The weight of the unspoken lingered in the air, thick and suffocating, and I couldn't shake the feeling that beneath his attempts at normalcy, my brother was fighting a battle I didn't yet understand.

I sat quietly beside him, listening as he rambled on about our aunts, uncles, and cousins back in Spain. His words tumbled out in a disjointed stream, recounting snippets of his time there, yet he never delved into any detail. Between bites, his mouth was full, and I could smell the remnants of whatever alcoholic drink he'd consumed—an overwhelming scent that hinted at bottles drained in quick succession. Even in his disarray, I could tell he'd showered, making an effort to appear somewhat presentable for me.

"Alec. Look at me," I urged, my hands moving gently to cradle his face. I felt the rough stubble beneath my palms, a clear sign that he hadn't shaved today. That was unusual; Alec always made it a point to shave before starting his day. "What happened?"

He offered another smile—a sad, almost defeated one that twisted painfully in my heart. The only time I had ever seen him like this was when his wedding was called off, a moment that had shattered him. "I'm okay, baby girl," he reassured me, patting my hand resting against his right cheek. "Eat up. We have an early day tomorrow. It's Mom's anniversary."

I didn't press further; I could see the silent plea in his eyes, begging me to let the subject drop, at least for now. "Okay," I replied softly, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek before handing him a slice of pizza from the box. "Let's pig out."

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable silence, the sounds of our chewing mingling with the random television show playing in the background. Time slipped away as we savored the feast Alec had prepared on the coffee table, the food providing a momentary distraction from the weight of unspoken words. Eventually, we decided to call Emil and his companions, inviting them over so we could all finish the food together. The warmth of family, even in its imperfections, filled the room, and for a moment, I felt the heaviness lift just a little.

I slipped into a pair of dark blue jeans and a simple black shirt, the fabric feeling comforting against my skin. Tying my hair up into a ponytail, I pulled on my black Converse, the familiar weight of them grounding me as I prepared to face the day. With a deep breath, I stepped out of my room and made my way downstairs to meet Alec.