“You’re not the second choice. I promise.”
Casimir couldn’t help but let out a snort, shaking his head once as he looked down at the drink on the table in front of him. It wasn’t alcoholic, though he wished it was. “I’ve always been the second choice,” he objected, his eyes flicking up to look at his younger sister. “But those were the good days. I was always third, or fourth. You don’t have to make me feel better by trying to sugarcoat it.”
He tapped his fingers against the table and sighed, deeply, shaking his head yet again, as if trying to rid his mind of the intrusive thoughts that were threatening to overshadow everything else. He ran a hand over his hair and rested back against the back of his chair. “He’s using my relationship with Ainsley to his benefit. I should be happy. I get to marry the only woman I ever imagined myself with in that capacity.” He swallowed tightly. “But all I want to do is punch something. Him. For using me now when he has never deemed me useful before.”
He looked at his sister and gave her a sad, frustrated smile. “The only reason I’ve ever been his second choice was because I am male and the second born. No other reasoning other than that.”
