Chapter 33 33.The rogue brother
Tabitha’s POV
A few days later, a team from one of the island’s top bridal ateliers arrives at the estate carrying garment bags and thick catalogs. They unpack several finished sample gowns onto dress stands in the sitting room while Mom claps her hands in excitement.
I watch as my mother steps behind one of the screens, and with the help of two seamstresses, slips into a fitted white gown dotted with delicate beadwork. She claps her hands excitedly while watching her reflection. The atelier staff adjust the straps and fuss about the gown, murmuring minor alterations they can make before the big day.
Mom looks like a princess in her wedding dress—or a queen. She probably feels the same that’s why she looks this thrilled. I’m happy for her.
After chatting a bit with my mom regarding her gown’s alteration, the seamstress turns and gestures politely to me, I push up to my feet.
“Your turn for measurements, miss.” I catch a bit of French in her accent.
I join her on the small platform and let her wrap the measuring tape around my waist, chest, and hips. Meanwhile, Mom comes over and smooths my hair behind my shoulder.
“How are you doing with everything?” she asks softly.
I keep my eyes on my reflection in the mirror. “I’m fine,” I say. “You focus on your wedding. Don’t worry about me.”
She hummed but doesn’t push. Once the seamstress finishes, we head over to the long table where stacks of catalogs, fabric swatches, and ready-to-alter bridesmaid styles are laid out. Mom flips through page after page, choosing lace patterns and beadwork designs.
My mom is a fashion-wizard. That’s why I love watching her surrounded by pretty clothes because that’s when she’s in her best element. While I’d settle for a pair of jeans and old trusty shirt, my mom could transform any basic clothing to fancy attires.
“Why are you handling all of this on your own? Shouldn’t Alpha Emery be helping with at least some of it?” I glance at my mother through the mirror. “Especially since the wedding will be next month.”
Mom doesn’t look bothered. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and keeps turning the pages.
“He’s busy with the pack and the naval base. That’s the life of an alpha. Besides, I’ve always loved choosing these things. He trusts my taste.”
I nod, even though I can’t shake the feeling that she’s doing too much alone. I pick up one of the catalogs and start marking the styles she hesitates over the longest, helping her narrow them down until there are only a few strong contenders left.
Later that night, Alpha Emery takes my mom out for dinner in town. That leaves only me, my stepbrothers, and the estate staff inside the house. I stay in my room out of pure laziness and ask Tom to bring up a tray so I don’t have to bother going down to the dining hall.
Hours pass. I finish my food, take a shower, scroll on my phone, and still sleep refuses to come. It’s one of those nights when even if I close my eyes, my mind stubbornly refuses to shut off — instead, it keeps me wired and restless.
After a while of useless attempts to sleep, I finally shove the blanket off, grab my hoodie from the chair, and slip out of my room. The hallway is quiet as I pad my way downstairs. I head toward the garden. This one is my favorite part of the estate and I hope that the cool night air might clear my mind the way lavender tea and counting sheep did not.
“Well, look who’s out past curfew,” he calls, straightening up with a lazy stretch. “Can’t sleep, Princess?”
“I needed some air,” I answer, folding my arms over my hoodie. “I was heading to the garden.”
“And yet you stopped here.” The corner of his lips tug into a smirk. “Either you’re looking to start a fight, or you’re looking for something fun. Which one is it, stepsis?”
“What makes you think I’m trying to start a fight with you?” I cock a brow as I inch closer to the garage.
“Maybe because the last time you saw me, you left a cloud of smoke in my face. Clicked in my head you might want a rematch.” I expect him to be offended by that but he only looks amused.
“You might wanna reflect a bit why I did that.”
Reed snorts. “Let me guess, you thought I was being a jerk.”
“Oh, look at that. Aren’t you a genius,” I reply dryly.
“Don’t worry, princess. You’re not the first one who thought of me that way.”
“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” I fire back. But really. This one has a reputation for being the rogue brother among the Aldair quadruplets. He says whatever he wants, acts whatever he wants, and he’s just good at getting on people's nerves. Just like what he did to me earlier.
But I don’t want him to have the satisfaction of seeing my feathers ruffled this time, so I equal his taunting eyes with a frown.
“Isn’t it too late to be fixing a bike?” I ask, shifting the topic.
“I’m used to being up late from patrol shifts. What’s your excuse? I’m sure there is plenty of air in your room if that’s really what you want.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well. I can’t sleep. So, there’s also that.”
“You can stay here sulking, or you can do something about that insomnia.” His mouth tips in a half-grin. He flicks a switch, and the motorcycle rumbles to life beneath him. “Want to go for a ride?”
Before I can answer, he reaches behind him and grabs a spare helmet hanging from the handlebars. He holds it out to me with a raised brow. I stare at it for a second before I hesitantly take it.
It’s late. Too late to be wandering outside, even later to be climbing onto a motorcycle with Reed Aldair of all people. But something inside me is too wound-up to care. The cool night air brushes my skin, and the idea of cruising through the island’s empty streets suddenly feels like exactly what I need.
“It’s your call,” he says with a casual shrug. “Stay here and pout, or come with me and stop thinking.”
The sensible part of me screams I should walk away. But the other part, the restless part that is tired of fake smiles and heavy thoughts, finds the idea of a midnight escape strangely inviting.
“If I end up regretting this, I’m blaming you,” I mumble, slipping the helmet over my head.
His grin widens. “You’ll survive.”
He swings a leg over the motorcycle and pats the spot behind him.
“Hop on,” he instructs.
I grip his shoulders and climb on, settling just behind him. The engine growls beneath us, and the vibration shoots straight through my spine. I should be nervous, but instead, I feel a rush of anticipation pool in my stomach.
He revs the engine once, as if giving me a final chance to back out. I tighten my hold around his waist.
“Let’s go before I change my mind.”
That grin of his widens, then we shoot forward into the night.