“This house has to be worth a million dollars, easy,” Elijah stated, taking in the manicured lawn with its symmetrical topiaries and the purple door with its large brass knocker. It was no palatial estate—it might not have been more than a couple of thousand square feet total, but like all California real estateBerkeley was overpriced, especially the Poet’s Corner neighborhood.
Shep did that thing where he tipped his head like a dog who didn’t quite understand its master. “That bothers you?”
Elijah’s hands flailed. “What? No. I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to be rich.”
Shep shook his head. “My parents aren’t rich. Comfortable, maybe. They are both tenured professors at Berkeley, but my mother’s textbooks are the standard curriculum for several behavioral psychology programs throughout the country and she gets paid a great deal of money to guest lecture.”
This time Elijah knew he was the one making the weird face when Shep said, “Why do you look like you’re trying to disarm a nuclear missile?”
“It’s a strange coincidence that your mother studies sociopaths and psychopaths and then she gave birth to one.”
“You’ve got it backward. My mother was finishing her Master’s in Sociology with an emphasis on women’s studies when she first became… concerned with my behavior. When she realized what I was, she became obsessed with ensuring I wouldn’t become a statistic. All of this…” he gestured towards the house. “Came later.”
The door opened before Elijah could ask another question. A woman with a gray braid that curled over her shoulder, a long floral dress and china-blue eyes beamed up at Shep. She couldn’t have been over five-foot-five. She grinned at them both before raising her arms up to hug Shep. He bent down to scoop her up,lifted her from the ground. “Hey, mom.”
Something squeezed in Elijah’s chest seeing the fond look on Shep’s face. Was his affection for his mother real? Could it be? Elijah always dreaded run-ins with his mother. She would never look at him the way Shep’s mom had looked at him.
When Shep returned her to her feet, she patted his face. “Hi, baby. I hope you’re hungry. The whole family came to see you.”
Before Shep could respond, she was turning her gaze to Elijah. “Oh, my. I never thought I’d have a bonafide celebrity in my house, much less as a guest of my son. Well, notthisson anyway. Mac, well, we never know what he will bring home. He’s like a tomcat. Sometimes he brings home a rat.”
Elijah laughed. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Shepherd.”
“Dr. Shepherd,” Shep whispered.
Molly threw a perturbed look at her son. “Oh, God. Please don’t call me that. I’m Molly. Just Molly, please.”
She stepped back, allowing them entrance. They only took two steps before Shep’s family swallowedthem up in the crowd. Elijah was used to being mobbed by people, but never like this, never by people with no agenda. He’d never experienced a large family before.
When Shep’s mother put an arm around Elijah’s waist, he draped his arm around her shoulders without thought as if he were posing for a photo. His cheeks flushed at his mistake, but she didn’t even notice. “Okay, back away from the boy before you damage him. I’m sure he’s worth gobs of money. Elijah, this is my daughter Katie and her husband, Brandon. These are their sons, Thomas and James.” Elijah gave a slight wave, Katie appeared to be in her late thirties with bright red hair but shared her brother’s same golden eyes. Her husband was a short man with a receding hairline and a bow tie. Their sons were thin like their father with sharp features, but they had their mother’s eyes. “This is my sister, Fiona and her husband Owen and the tall one back there with a pint of Guinness in his hand is my husband, Padraic.”
Elijah had only a moment to acknowledge Fiona and Owen, his gaze dragging to Shep’s father almost against his will. The man was a mountain, five inches taller than Shep, at least. That put him at close to six-foot-nine. With his ruddy complexion, bulbous nose, and long frizzled white hair and beard, he looked like Santa Claus in a maroon cardigan.
“Moving up in the world, I see,” Owen crowed at Shep. “Hobnobbing with celebrities and whatnot.”
“Well, I couldn’t stay a military grunt forever,” Shep said, plastering a grin on his face. He looked at his mother. “I’m starving.”
She beamed at him like feeding Shep was her only goal in life. “Dinner will be ready soon. Your father’s cooked enough red meat to feed a horde of barbarians,” his mother promised.
Shep’s fatherloomed over Elijah. “You’re not one of those vegans, are you?”
Elijah shook his head. “No, sir.”
His father grinned as if Elijah had passed a test, smacking him on the back hard enough to send him stumbling forward a bit. “Oh, good. Seems like everybody in California has signed a waiver giving up meat and dairy in favor of grass and almonds. Fucking hippies.”
Molly scoffed. “Language, Padraic.”
“Fucking bohemians. Better?”
She rolled her eyes and looped her arm through Elijah’s. “Why don’t we let them get caught up and you can help me in the kitchen. Ask me your questions about this new role of yours.”
Elijah’s gaze snagged on Shep who was laughing and joking with his teenage nephews. It was odd watching him outside their bubble, looking animated and engaged. He had seen it before, but it was just so convincing. Maybe somebody should put Shep in a movie? Elijah’s stomach rolled, unease trickling down his spine. Which one was the real Shep?
Elijah allowed Molly Shepherd to drag him awaybut felt the need to warn her, “I don’t think I’ll be much help in the kitchen. I can’t boil water.”
“I’ll sort out the food, you can just ask your questions.”
“Deal.”
