Chapter 22 #2
But I’m sure they both have their own frustrations with the drama Adrianna has added to their lives. They just want their dad back.
Asher and Dean tell me a couple stories, the sunset fading behind me, dimming the light inside as time disappears.
They smile and laugh, their faces falling every now and then as reality rushes back in. But I can feel the weight lift off their shoulders with each shared memory.
Once seven thirty comes around, Asher locks the place back up. We walk back to the car and head to the Hawthorne house, feeling closer than ever.
“Are you ready to meet the gang in all their glory?” Asher chuckles as we turn into a driveway that leads up to a house … mansion—I think they’re all the same to these guys.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Nerves start creeping in, goose bumps breaking out on my arms as we come to a stop.
I am ready, fully ready to be a part of their lives and everything that entails. But that doesn’t mean my anxiety isn’t going to surface. Which is exactly what it’s doing right now.
“Thanks, Jared,” Dean tells the driver.
He and Asher step out.
I decide not to wait for one of my gentlemen to get the door, pushing it open and getting out all on my own, like the big girl I am.
I laugh at the thought.
Dean’s face falls when he sees me outside of the car. “Cirella.”
“Yes?” I push my nose up, hooking the purse on my shoulder, which Asher reaches out and takes from me, putting it on his instead.
“I’ll get that for you,” Ash adds arrogantly, as if I can’t carry my own purse.
Dean shakes his head. “You’d better not try to open another door tonight.”
I shudder playfully as we walk around the car. “So controlling.”
He smirks. “Protective.”
“Possessive?” I challenge him as we start ascending the stairs to the front door.
Dean’s hand instantly finds mine as he falls into step beside me.
“No one should be allowed to have this many steps. It should be illegal,” I groan, looking at the second set after the first landing. “There’s more here than on campus!”
“You’re doing great, baby,” Ash praises, a few steps behind. “I’m just enjoying the view.”
Glancing back over my shoulder, I roll my eyes.
“Can you blame me?” His voice deepens.
I ignore him, focusing on the last thousand steps up to the door, completely out of breath by the time we finish our climb.
“Thank God,” I huff. “He needs to install an escalator.”
Dean and Asher chuckle right as the door swings open, and Blair greets us with a smile.
“Oh, I love your dress.” She beams, studying it intently.
“Yours is beautiful.” A light bulb goes off in my head as I recognize the designer. “Wait, is that a N.J. Elizabeth?”
Her eyes light up. “Yeah. Wow. How’d you know?”
N.J. Elizabeth gowns are top-of-the-line designer, but not in your face, brand name everywhere like the rest of the market.
They’re famous in the fashion industry. The gowns are all one-of-a-kind pieces, but each one always has a bow hidden in the seam line on the waist. Sometimes, it’s used to compliment the design—like in Blair’s golden gown, it’s positioned front and center—but other times, it’s hidden on the side, barely noticeable at all.
“Because she’s a fashion designer,” Asher says proudly, not a condescending tone, like I’ve heard from Adrianna over the years.
When I look up at him, a frog grows in my throat. I’ve never given myself that title or heard it in such a serious way. Usually, it’s thrown around as an insult by my stepmother. But not this time.
“There you fuckers are.” Malik, dark-haired with piercing purple eyes, strolls up behind Blair. “About damn time.”
His angry tone strikes me, and the apology falls out of me as I drop my eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry. We were busy running an errand—”
Dean’s hand finds my waist, caressing me carefully. “Don’t apologize, Ciri. For one, this asshole doesn’t deserve your kindness. And two, he’s kidding.”
Vulnerability snakes around my throat because I fell right into the same behavior I’d been conditioned to over the years.
The words form on my lips again, but I stop them, swallowing the apology.
Asher hands Blair the dresses, who scurries back inside, leaving Malik in the doorway.
Nodding slowly, I take a few slow breaths, calming the anxiety building inside as Dean’s hand brushes my side.
But I’m struggling to calm my racing heart. His lips find my hairline before dropping to my ear.
“Deep breath, baby. You’re doing amazing.” He presses a kiss and adds a line that nearly makes my heart explode. “I’m so proud of you.”
He’s proud of me …
I’m proud of myself.
I can do this.
I’ve got this.
And if I don’t believe it fully, the two guys at my sides surely will, holding me up the entire way.
Asher takes my hand in his, kissing my knuckles, which is becoming one of my favorite things.
I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs completely and calm my pulse.
Let’s do this.
We stroll inside, behind Malik, who leads the way through yet another enormous, mesmerizing house, taking us through the foyer and into the dining room with vaulted ceilings and a table that could fit twenty.
“Cirella!” Alora smiles at me and rushes over, pulling me into a swift hug, all while Dean’s and Asher’s hands stay glued to my waist and hand. “Relax, boys. I’m not going to steal her.”
Asher mocks her. “You couldn’t if you tried.”
“Can I get you a glass of anything?” Blair offers. “Wine? Champagne? Water? Tequila?” She chuckles.
I laugh, having never even tried alcohol my entire life. “Water, please.”
“You’ve got it.” She smiles, no judgment in her eyes.
My shoulders finally begin to settle as I scan the room. Griffin is watching Blair with pure love in his eyes, just as Malik watches Alora. Finn and Elias are lost in conversation, in a world all their own. And there are two guys I don’t recognize, sitting to the right of Blair’s empty chair.
They have stars in their gazes, looking at each other with intense adoration.
Someone calls out one of their names—Lumi—and I make a mental note to remember it.
The other guy must be his boyfriend—or at least is going to be soon, if not already, from the way he looks at him. This place is full of love.
Someone says something that I don’t catch, and laughter ripples through the room. It’s not directed at me but Finn.
Dean pulls a chair out for me, and I find my seat. My boys sit beside me as I watch everyone interact, feeling an odd sense of comfort in their chaos.
His friends ask about me, and I answer honestly, telling them what I’m going to school for, about my passions and goals. And they all listen so intently and genuinely. It’s almost jarring.
This group, while I’m sure sometimes crazy and unpredictable, is like a little family all their own. Maybe even a family I could be a part of.
Time seems to fade away completely as the night draws on with laughter and endless smiles that have my cheeks hurting.
After dinner and dessert—all prepared by Griffin’s chef and maid, Mrs. Pottinger, the sweetest older lady—I excuse myself to the bathroom, but get a bit lost on my way back, wandering down a hallway I don’t remember passing through.
It’s lined with family photos, hundreds spanning the walkway. From all different ages of their youth, pictures of Griffin, a younger boy, and two proud parents decorate the space. There are even tons of Mrs. Pottinger and what appears to be her son.
Wait …
What the hell?
One of the photos stops me dead in my tracks, and the world around me disappears to the background.
That can’t really be him?
Inside the frame is a picture of a bunch of businessmen, including who I think is Griffin’s dad, Everett Kensington, tons more, but one of them … one of them … is my dad.
“Get lost?” Griffin chuckles, walking up to me, but I’m stuck, staring at the photo.
I nod mindlessly.
I like to think my parents are watching over me somehow or someway, and I like to imagine they’re proud of who I’m becoming, who I’m blossoming into.
Griffin sighs as he approaches. “The Evermore Foundation—that’s what they always called themselves, claiming to hold the world together.”
Tears well in my eyes.
I can’t believe our parents knew each other, not just Griffin’s and mine, but Asher’s, Dean’s, and my dad too. I’m not surprised, given the circles they ran in.
But it’s insane to envision that, if my parents were still here, my path would have inevitably crossed the path of this group of friends sometime in the future.
Maybe this very spot is where I was always destined to end up, to find this photo of my dad in my boyfriends’ friend’s house.
Perhaps we were always meant to be together.
Reaching out, I run my finger over the glass above my father’s face. I can feel Griffin’s stare burning into the side of my face.
“Are you okay? Do you know him?” Griffin asks, confused, and it dawns on me that they don’t know who I really am.
I kind of assumed that Dean and Asher would’ve told them, but I appreciate them keeping my secret nonetheless.
“I do.” Nodding slowly, I stand up taller, wiping the tears from under my eyes. “He’s my dad.”
“Wait,” Griffin scoffs, shaking his head and chuckling in disbelief. “What do you mean? That’s Patrick Chamberlain.”
“I know.” I sniffle, wiping my eyes. “I’m Cirella Chamberlain.”