We shared a longing look of silent understanding before I turned and led her along the sidewalk, tugging her by my side.
That couple of old ladies in their gym gear walked past us, huge grins on their faces as they took in what would look like a young couple enjoying the sunshine.
“Afternoon,” one of them said. Their expressions were very different from what they had been when I’d been sitting in the car scoping out my mother’s house like a stalker.
“Afternoon,” I replied with a polite head nod. Once they had passed us by, Harper cut me a glance with a knowing look. Maybe playing the nice guy wasn’t so bad if it got me those kinds of reactions.
As we walked, I enjoyed that feeling of holding Harper’s hand. I’d never been into that kind of shit before, but with her, it felt right. She was so tiny next to me, and the beast in me roared,mine!
It only took us a couple of minutes until we stood outside the huge, intimidating gates next to the intercom.
“Go for it,” Harper encouraged, lifting her chin to point at the doorbell.
My breath whistled between my clenched teeth as I pushed the button with a firm finger.
The speaker was slightly muffled, but the man on the other end sounded like he was expecting me, thank fuck.
When the gates slid back, Harper and I shared a look before making our way up the long driveway. More trees and flowers surrounded the grand-looking house. It was much smaller than the Summer’s residence, but it was still overwhelming.
As we got to the large glass-fronted doors, they immediately opened, and a man appeared. He was dressed formally in black pants and a cream button-down. He had gray hair but didn’t appear overly welcoming. When he saw Harper, a crease appeared between his bushy eyebrows. We let go of each other’s hands at the same time, my mouth suddenly dry. Fuck. I didn’t know how to behave. Usually, that didn’t bother me, and I went with my gut. But at that moment, my normal instincts were a jumble.
“Mr. Carter?” the man began, taking a step forward. His voice suggested he was older than he looked. Maybe that’s what working for rich people did? Aged the fuck out of you.
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.” I kept my voice polite-ish. I didn’t like the way he looked at Harper, like he found her lacking in some way.
I told my overprotective side to get a grip. He was probably surprised I’d brought someone with me. And then he confirmed that by saying, “I’m Clarkson. I work for Mr. and Mrs. Leibrock. My apologies, Mrs. Leibrock didn’t say you were bringing a friend.”
Before Harper could answer, I cut in. “This is Harper, she’s—my girlfriend. Is it OK if she comes in and waits for me?”
Girlfriend? I could feel Harper’s eyes drilling into the side of my jaw, but I kept my eyes forward. Calling her my friend just hadn’t felt right; she was a significant person in my life, and calling her my girl felt more natural. I knew I’d probably pay for that later.
“I’ll just need to check with Mrs. Leibrock. Please do come inside,” the man, ‘Clarkson’ said. His tone suggested he was put out and clearly didn’t like being faced with the unexpected.
He then opened the door wider and motioned us inside with a sweep of his arm. As we crossed the threshold, my chest tightened. Nothing had prepared me for the way I was now feeling. I was about to meet myrealmother, the woman who had given birth to me.
“Please do ignore the boxes, Mr. and Mrs. Leibrock only moved into the property last month.”
I knew my mother hadn’t lived there long, which was why I found her so quickly through the public records I’d scoured through.
I couldn’t describe the chaos that was going on in my gut. I wondered if she’d look me in the face when she told me why she left me. Would I feel rejected again, even though I wasn’t there to reunite us? And if she told me the truth, would that kill me all over again? I was so young when I last saw her, but growing up knowing my real mother abandoned me, had made me live out those following years feeling worthless and alone.
Calm down, Nix. Compose yourself. Don’t fuck this up.
Harper and I shared a glance as the crusty old bastard limped away to a phone that sat on one of the side tables. Whilst his back faced us, we both turned around in the space and took in the opulence. Everything looked so new and fresh.
We were in a grand lobby with high ceilings, white walls, polished wood, and shiny flooring. There was a carpeted staircase with a curved balustrade leading to another floor. The hallway was well-lit considering there were no windows; the only lighting came from a large, dramatic chandelier that swayed above us, the cluster of pendants moving with the breeze coming in from outside. There were several doors on either side of us, and a corridor led under the staircase and then twisted out of sight.
The paintings on the walls were all modern-looking and pretentious as fuck. The type of art that supposedlytold a story, but to me, they just looked like someone had thrown a paint-tantrum at a canvas.
After a brief whispered conversation with his mistress, Clarkson came back over, the ghost of a smile on his craggy face.
“If it pleases you, ma’am, you are welcome to wait in the blue room.”
Harper turned to peek up at me through her lashes. “Will you be alright?” she asked, and I smiled with a curt nod.
Clarkson walked over to one of the closed doors and pulled it open. “Just in here, please.”
We both followed him, but my steps felt forced. Harper was also hesitant, and I hoped she wasn’t nervous about being left alone. We were in a stranger's house after all. As we got to the door, I glanced into the room. It was a large sitting room with blue sofas, a textured rug, and an open hearth. It didn’t look like the type of room you’d be murdered in, but who knew? My eyes narrowed as I saw various framed photographs spread across the mantlepiece, showing my mother’s perfect all-American family.
