Standing at the front gates, I tilt my head and smile, admiring the handcrafted brick exterior, the slate roof, the subtle details that capture opulence without being ostentatious. It’s perfect. My dream home. I was nine when I designed it with crayons and markers. Of course, the walls are straight and the roof isn’t made of candy, but the essence is there.
Home sweet home.
As I approach the front door, I pat the pockets of my jeans, looking for keys.
Do I need keys? Or will it be open?
My fingertips trace the subtle texture of paint splattered across the light denim. Neon yellow. Interesting. Not a color I would choose. A set of long, yellow manicured nails flash through my mind but the image quickly fades as the front door swings open.
“Baby! You’re home!”
Every last ounce of breath leaves my lungs as Alison wraps her arms around my body. I melt into her touch as she squeezes me, holds me, kisses my neck. She pulls away and tilts her head. I blink as I stare into her green eyes. Green like jade. Like the cleansing shade of sage. Green. Green like the grass. Green like trees. Like beginnings. And oxygen.
I swallow, trailing my gaze down the length of the light blue polka-dotted dress that seems a bit out of place.
Alison pouts. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” She twirls before me and then smiles. A minuscule pain pokes at my chest. That smile. I remember that smile. Bright and proud and hers. The woman with green eyes. “Baby?”
I clear my throat. “No, it’s beautiful. I love it.”
She grins, holding out her hand. “Well, come on. Dinner’s almost ready.”
I frown. “Dinner? It’s only…” I check my watch again. My frown deepens. The hands on the clock no longer say 2 p.m. “Oh.”
Alison drags me into the house, and I frown at the circle table sitting in the middle of the foyer. A vase of solid gold roses sits in the center. Twelve roses. Only twelve. The vase is white and far too grand for so few flowers. A floral scent permeates the air, but gold has no fragrance.
Alison ducks behind me and closes the front door, locking it. I snap my head toward her as the click thunders through my chest. I place a hand over my heart.
Alison smirks. “Don’t swoon now, baby. I know I look good.”
I rein in a grin. She does. Her red lips. Her dark black lashes. The slope of her button nose. But those eyes. I would die for those eyes. I would kill for those eyes.
I wouldlivefor those eyes.
“I’m going to set the table,” Alison says, gesturingtoward the hallway. “Your parents are in the sitting room. Gabriela is trying to convince them to invest in a new company.”
“My parents are here?” My breath hitches as if five hundred volts of electricity connect with my chest. “And Gabby?”
Alison perks a brow. “Of course, they’re here, Damon. It’s Sunday night dinner. They’re always here.”
“Right…” I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. My forehead creases as I take in the black dress pants hanging from my hips. But…
“Go, Damon.” She points down a hallway adorned with five ornate chandeliers. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
Lead settles in the base of my feet as I trudge toward the sitting room, each step heavier than the last. I follow the sound of laughter and chatter. When I emerge on the other side of the hall, three sets of eyes snap toward me. My spine shivers as I take in the sight of my family.
They’re paler than I remember. But it’s summer. Isn’t it summer?
Gabriela grins up at me, her curls cascading down her spine. “Hey, D. Where’ve you been? We’ve been waiting for you.”
WherehaveI been? Where was I?
“I was at work.”
My father frowns. “Work? On a Sunday? I thought I taught you better than that, son. We don’t work on weekends. That’s family time. You should know this.”
Should I?
“But you worked weekends.”
