Taylor shirks his arms away from Logan and both brothers huff, their chests heaving. Taylor has no response. He cannot deny what is clear as day.

“I used to feel sorry for having a hand in turning you sour,” Logan continues, “but now it’s all on you. I hope that you become a better man for the sake of your daughter and your wife. I hope that you get over it, but until you do, we are no longer brothers,” Logan repeats, taking several steps backwards, his physical movement mirroring something much larger. He’s cutting the tie to his brother. For good? I can’t work that out right now, all I can fathom is the poignant look on Logan’s face, and the stab of guilt that I feel inside. I should’ve walked away, I think once more.

After a long silence, Logan tells Taylor, “I’ll thank you to leave this party, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you ruin it for anyone else.”

Taylor’s face is too impassive for me to tell how he’s feeling. Shocked, probably, that after all this time he’s finally pushed Logan too far. Embarrassed, I hope, for acting the way he has done. And sorry, I expect, for speaking to me in the manner he did. But he shows none of these things, and remains impassive and un-remorseful when he finally tears his eyes off of Logan and says, “Karen, let’s go—”

“I’m staying,” Karen sobs. Hearing the tone in her voice, Logan and I both turn to look at her and she bursts into tears.

I feel utterly terrible. I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and I wrap my arms around her in the best show of comfort that I can offer.

“You’ve humiliated me, Taylor!” she yells at her husband. “How dare you behave like this. How would you feel if someone spoke to our daughter the way you spoke to Gemima?” she shrieks at him.

“I’d beat the living daylights out of him,” Taylor responds quickly.

“It’s tempting, believe me,” Logan says.

“Abby and I are staying here,” Karen tells Taylor, “you can go without us, and figure out how you’re going to make this better.”

Without a word of apology to me or Logan or his wife, Taylor turns and leaves, and the three of us remain motionless, completely stunned.

It’s the most uncomfortable moment of my life, hands down. It puts every slip of verbal diarrhoea that I’ve ever had into perspective, because this isn’t just an embarrassing slip of the tongue, this actually means something — a brother is as good as banished and his wife is left in tears.

I can’t hold back my guilt any longer. “I’m so sorry,” I tell Karen and Logan earnestly. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that—”

“Don’t,” Logan says sternly, watching Taylor leave. He turns his head and his eyes meet mine and they soften instantly, as does his voice. “Baby, please don’t,” he says, stepping towards us and wrapping his arms around us both. “This is all Taylor.”

“I hate to gang up on my own husband,” Karen sniffs and wipes away her tears, “but Logan’s right,” she says to me. “I think he really needed this,” she then says to him. “He needed to be told that enough’s enough. I’m just so sorry that he said those things, Gemima. He doesn’t really think that of you, I promise.”

“Is that how he speaks to you, Karen?” Logan asks her seriously.

“No,” she cries, fresh tears appearing instantly. “That’s why I don’t understand him when he acts like this. At home he’s kind, and he’s brilliant with our daughter, and he would never speak to a woman so disrespectfully,” she wails, burying her face in her hands, her humiliation overcoming her.

Logan considers this for a moment, before he comes to his conclusion, “Taylor knows he can’t get under my skin, so he changed tact and went for you instead.”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter again.

“Don’t be,” he reiterates. “It’s telling of his character, not yours,” he says, before kissing my forehead.

“Whatever reason he gives is inexcusable,” Karen presses. She’s right, it is.

“I’m sorry he spoke to you like that,” Logan says to me quietly, meaningfully. He leans his head down and gently kisses my lips, his eyes pouring into mine the whole time.

I release one of my arms from around Karen and instead cup Logan’s face. “I’m sorry you lost a brother,” I reply.

He shakes his head, telling me, “I think I lost him a long time ago, I just didn’t accept that until now.”

Karen sniffs again and pulls out of our group hug. She takes a few steps away from us, leaving Logan and I huddled together, as she inhales several deep breaths and wipes her eyes once more. The makeup around her eyes is smudged and lopsided. “Maybe this is a good thing,” she mumbles, and I can tell that she’s trying to convince herself as much as us. “This is new territory for him. Maybe it’s exactly what was needed to make him change,” she muses.

Maybe, I think, or maybe it won’t change a damn stubborn bone in Taylor’s body. What it has changed is Logan’s life. He’s, at last, freed himself of the weight that his younger brother was on him, and he didn’t have to compromise himself to do it.

Looking up at him, I confess, “I’m glad you didn’t hit him.”

He gives me a half-smile, pleased that he’s pleased me. But underneath that smile, he’s hurting, I know he is. Disappointment must be seeping through him. Disowning his own brother is not what Logan hoped their relationship would come to, but Taylor’s let him down one too many times.

“Fights may be fought and won with violence, but violence never brings true resolution,” he says maturely. “It was time to end this properly and only clear communication can do that. I think I made myself pretty clear,” he sighs, and I nod in response. “I find words are more powerful, more decisive, more resolving,” he tells me, and pride swells in me for the millionth time tonight. He’s not interested in the drama of the fallout, he’s only interested in peace. Probably, I tell myself, because he knows more than most what it’s like to live out-of-peace with himself. He knows the depths of the darkness, and he’s not going to let anyone, not even his own kin, take him back there. His strength awes me; it’s inspiring to see someone make the right decision, even if that decision is difficult.

“Besides,” Logan leans closer, “I remember you telling me that I was worthy of you, and I promised you that I would try to always remain so,” he whispers against my lips. “I want to be worthy, especially now that we’re engaged,” he smiles a little more sincerely.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Karen pipes up. We both turn to look at her, and she continues, saying to me, “I’m so happy for you, I just…I hope Taylor’s actions won’t mar any chance of us getting to know each other better.”

“They won’t,” I promise her quickly. “You nor Abigail are accountable for him, and I’m really looking forward to spending more time with both of you, Karen,” I say, meaning every word.

“Good, I’m glad,” she nods. “When’s the big day?”

“This summer,” Logan and I say together.

“And your parents, do they know?” she wonders.

“Not yet,” Logan shakes his head. “We wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little while; it just sort of slipped out earlier.”

“I won’t breathe a word,” Karen assures us. “Now,” she sniffs for a final time, “let’s not stand here moping for the rest of the night. Let’s get a drink and toast to your good news…oh, unless you’re, uh—”

“Not pregnant,” we speak as one again.

“Drinks it is then,” Karen decides on behalf of us all, and neither Logan nor I object.

* * *

It takes half an hour, three shots of whiskey apiece, and several random outbursts of uncontrollable swearing for each of us to really relax back into the mood of the evening. Our parents can’t be spotted from our position near the bar, and looking around the many frivolities it’s clear that no one outside of the family is in the know about what transpired. That’s something, at least, I tell myself. Taylor may have put a dent in our evening, but everyone else seems to be having a wonderful time.