“Wow.”
“Surprised?” Andrew asks.
“Well, yeah. I mean, maybe it’s normal. My childhood was different; I was an only child and didn’t grow up in a family.”
“What do you mean?” he asks gently.
Damn. I never talk about my childhood. It took years before I shared my past with Cheri, and now it pours out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea.
“It’s okay, Jaclyn, we all have pasts. But you don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” Rebekah says when I hesitate.
Her eyes are soft with concern, instead of the suspicion that was there earlier. At some point during the meal, their demeanor changed; making me feel less like the criminal they thought I was earlier. Did something happen that I don’t realize? Was it all a test? As for my past, it doesn’t control me anymore. I can even hear Cheri’s voice telling me there’s nothing for me to be ashamed of, and to let it go.
“Thank you. It’s no big deal, really. My mom OD’d when I was ten. I ended up in foster care until I aged out at eighteen.” It’s a compressed version, but enough for them to get a good idea. When I finish speaking, Andrew’s hand squeezes my thigh under the table.
“Our mother died a while ago, too, but we lived with our father, who wasn’t a nice man,” Hannah says, then adds, “He sold me to one of his friends for moonshine money.”
Her father sold her? Growing up in foster care was terrible, but the treatment she experienced from their father—horrific. I can’t even imagine what that would be like. I look from Hannah to Rebekah and wonder what hell she went through.
Rebeca looks at Adam, who’s sitting next to her, then explains, “He didn’t sell me. But he treated me like his maid and beat me when I wasn’t good enough. I never got to leave our dilapidated cabin until Adam rescued me.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that was like. Where is he now?”
“Dead. He had an accident a few months ago,” Adam answers.
Everyone agrees, then we continue eating. Or I’m trying at least, but it’s hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. There’s got to be more to that story, but no way am I asking.
It’s funny how hearing other people’s life stories makes you realize maybe yours isn’t as bad as you thought. As I watch all the couples interact, I imagine what it would be like to be part of this family. Too bad I have a better chance of finding Prince Charming in the coffee shop near my apartment in San Jose.
By the time dinner is winding down, I’m ready to curl up in any available corner and pass out. It’s ridiculous, I slept the entire trip here. I can’t even blame jet lag since it’s three hours earlier at home. Too bad my body isn’t buying it for a freaking second.
It takes forever for everyone to finish eating—damn, this family can talk. I expect the women to clear the dishes and put away the leftovers. Instead, it’s the men who get up to take care of it. My surprise must show on my face because Emma giggles.
“They spoil us rotten, not just because you’re here,” she says.
“You mean they cook and clean up? Have I fallen through a black hole? Are we being pranked? Will someone jump out in a minute with a camera?” I ask.
“Nope. Believe us. We try to help, but they rarely let us. You’ll get used to it,” Rebekah says.
Nodding at her comment, I know that’s not true. There’s no way I’ll be here long enough to get used to anything, right? They can’t keep me here against my will. I have to go home as soon as they realize I’m not guilty of anything.
That’s what I want. As wonderful as their family seems to be, this can’t be real. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Life has taught me too many times to believe that it’s always too good to be true.
As the women chat among themselves, I gaze around the kitchen. It’s gorgeous, just like the other rooms I’ve seen so far. I smirk when I see the red blinking lights in the corners, not that I’m surprised. This family is wealthy beyond my wildest dreams. Of course, they have security. Hopefully, whatever room I end up in is camera-free. I really don’t need someone watching me sleep. That’s just fucking stalkerish. Just thinking about bed makes me yawn, though.
I try to hide it, but being sneaky has never been my forte. Hiding it by turning my head is lame, but it’s all I’ve got, so I try anyway. Why am I so tired? Maybe it’s the stress of the last week and today. Okay, definitely today—I guess it’s a good enough reason to be exhausted. Hopefully, it won’t make me look weak.
“Tired, Sweetpea?” His eyes are gentle. Nothing like they were when he first sat me down in the family room.
“Yeah. Can you tell me where my bedroom is?” I ask quietly, hoping it’s only Andrew who hears, so he can sneak me out without anyone noticing. But as usual, I’m not that lucky.
“She can stay with me. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble,” Adrian offers as he’s dishing up the leftover lasagna.
What does he mean stay with him? This place is enormous. There’s got to be an empty room around here somewhere. Shit. I’ll be happy on the couch in the family room—all I need is a blanket and a pillow, only if it’s not too much trouble.
Andrew practically growls at his brother’s offer before answering, “No, she’s mine, I mean, she’ll stay with me.”
What fuckery is going on now? And what does Andrew mean by I’m his? Adrian’s smirk should clue me in, but for once, my brain isn’t connecting the dots.
