Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
ENFIELD
Breakfast is delicious. I’m not sure what Sparrow is feeding us, but it’s freaking good.
They sit across the breakfast booth in the kitchen from me with Shapiro perched on the bench on Sparrow’s other side.
He alternates between purring loudly and kneading the bench between bites from Sparrow and glaring at me.
I can just see what he’s thinking—this is what you’re supposed to be doing, human.
It's on the tip of my tongue to remind him that we’re not friends.
I manage to keep those words in though. Last time I said something like that, Xavi burst into tears, and I felt like the world’s biggest asshole.
Interestingly, I haven’t felt bad about something I’ve said or done since Courtney told me she was pregnant and wanted to skin me alive. All through tears, of course.
I’m trying to be far more conscious of what comes out of my mouth.
When we’re finished eating, I ask, “Where are we holding an audience with the lawyers?”
Sparrow snorts. “Holding an audience? Really?”
“Having a meeting? Entertaining a house call? What do you prefer?”
“Language that’s common today. Not a hundred years ago.”
“So uncultured,” I mutter as I get to my feet.
This damn man takes a glass of soapy water and tosses it at me. Not the glass, of course. But physics states that the water stays in motion. It does. It covers me.
Xavi bursts into laughter and then slaps his hands over his mouth to contain it as he stares between the two of us with wide eyes.
“I’m cultured plenty,” Sparrow says as he returns to rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. “But I can also speak in a vernacular common to this century.”
“Vernacular,” I mutter and turn for the door as I flip him off. Xavi tries his best not to laugh behind his hand as he follows me.
“I’m guessing you’re going to need to change,” Xavi says. His lips twitch as he tries his best not to smile.
I look down at my right side, soaked through with suds still clinging to my sleeve. “Yes. Into something dry.”
He nods resolutely. “I’ll wait here and then show you the room.”
Leveling him with a demure expression, to which he struggles very hard to keep a straight face, I adjust my direction and head upstairs. At least this is just soapy water. Not wine or something.
I change my shirt, give myself another quick spritz of cologne, and head back down to Xavi. He’s waiting right where I left him.
“This way,” he says, and I follow at his side.
Just past the entry, he pushes open a door to a room with a large table set up for eight.
One wall is covered in windows and framed by fancy drapes.
All the surfaces in the room shine, reflecting the daylight like a mirror. “Small dining room number one.”
I look at him with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”
Xavi rolls his eyes. “I think my parents thought it was weird to call it a meeting room or a conference room in a private residence, so it’s simply one of three small dining rooms. One that I’m not sure anyone has ever eaten in.
My family couldn’t fit in it. I have six brothers.
Already, we’re too many to fit in here for a meal. ”
“Rich people are so wasteful of space.”
He looks at me with amusement. “Tell me about it. I think I use like four rooms in this entire house.”
“And yet, can you imagine living in a smaller house?”
“It would feel like the walls are closing in on me,” he answered, horrified.
I laugh.
“Actually, I’ve only ever lived in this house.” He walks across the room to look out the window. We’re looking into the backyard. “Beyond the wall is Sparrow’s house. I’ve always wanted to stay here because Sparrow will always be right there. You know?”
“He’s going to live with his parents forever, is he?”
Xavi shakes his head, grinning. “He’s building a house. He hasn’t admitted it’s his house, but I know Sparrow. He loves his family and the neighborhood that his family built.”
“They built the neighborhood?”
He nods. “Yes. His uncle bought the entire plot of land and selected who was allowed to build there. Before I was born, it was nothing but an empty field. My oldest brothers still remember when the construction began when they were little kids.”
“Huh. That’s… interesting.”
“That neighborhood—his family—is where I truly understood what it was to love. I learned the real meaning of ‘love is love.’ People use that to describe something that’s not heteronormative, you know?
But even those who are gay or lesbian or trans can still be huge assholes when it comes to something beyond two people.
Or love that’s not considered normal. When my oldest brother was struggling with his sexuality with my parents, I took refuge with Sparrow and his family.
It’s because of them that I gained confidence in myself and who I am. ”
“That sounds really nice.”
“I’m surrounded by happy couples and families with my parents and brothers, but there’s something almost magical in that neighborhood. I can’t explain it.”
The doorbell rings, and I swear, it reverberates through the walls. Xavi and I wince.
“I’m going to have nightmares of that sound,” I mutter.
He nods as he joins me in the hall and we head for the door. Sparrow is just coming around the corner as we reach the entry.
“It only rang once and wasn’t followed by screaming and banging, so we know it’s not your mother,” Sparrow notes.
I snort. “We’re about to learn my charges against them. Care to join us for the news?”
“It’ll be the highlight of my week,” he says with a nod.
Xavi opens the door, and I recognize Nash immediately. He smiles politely at Xavi, but it changes when he turns to me. Familiar. Friendly. I think he’s actually happy to see me.
Xavi steps back to let them in, and I cross the empty space to hug my friend. Nash squeezes me tightly for a minute. “You worry me, kid,” he murmurs.
“Kid,” I snort. “You’re not that much older than me.”
He takes a step back, giving me a smile. I think he’s actually rather fond of me. I’m going to have to make sure he knows I’m onto him later.
“This is Nash Van Doren,” I introduce as I also move aside so everyone can see each other. “My fiancé, Xavi, and our housemaid, Sparrow.”
Sparrow glares at me. I rock on my feet, grinning. “You want to change for a third time today, don’t you?” he hisses.
My grin just grows. I’m happy to see that Xavi’s struggling to hide his smile too.
“Right,” Nash says as he shakes both men’s hands. “This is my cousin and colleague, Avory Van Doren. The smartass is Enfield.”
I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but Avory is only the second Van Doren I’ve met in my life. Every other one I’ve only seen via pictures, the internet, or some form of entertainment media. I’m a little amused by how alike they look.
Nash is forty. Maybe forty-one. I know he’s barely in his forties, though. Avory must be around ten years older. He’s hairier with a nice full beard and longer hair, though it’s neatly groomed and styled. I wonder if he always appears so neat.
“Nice to meet you,” Xavi says. “Sparrow is my best friend.”
“We know,” Avory says, smiling.
“Would you like a drink or anything?” Xavi asks.
“No, thank you,” Nash says and holds up a Van Doren glass water bottle. “We come prepared.”
Avory holds his up as well. “Always representing,” he adds.
“If you’ll join us in the dining room, then,” Xavi says.
I’m a little amused at how formal he can be. Rich blood upbringing, right there. You know when to turn it on. In front of lawyers is when you’re at your most dignified.
“I’m going to go entertain the cat,” Sparrow says. “While I hesitate to offer, let me know if you need anything.” He glares at me, challenging me to say anything else.
I grin, though I keep my mouth closed.
He leaves the room, and the four of us take seats.
“I see you’re making friends,” Nash says to me.
“He dumped a glass of dirty soap water on me. Calling him the housemaid is being nice,” I insist.
Nash chuckles, shaking his head. With a sigh, he turns more serious. “Where would you like to start?”
“With my mother,” I say and look at Xavi to make sure he’s on board. He nods, leaning forward in his chair a little.
Nash smirks. “As you can imagine, she’s completely incensed that you’re actually charging her with these misdemeanors.
She insists you drop them immediately. I’ve warned her attorney that if she continues down this road, we’ll be enacting a restraining order as well.
I’m holding off on that until after we present the dissolution of the contract.
You wanted to witness when it was presented to them, no? ”
“Yes, definitely,” I say. “A video will do, but I’d prefer to see it in person.”
“As I thought. Right now, we’re simply charging her with trespassing and harassment.
” He looks at Xavi. “Thank you for the videos with timestamps. They’re irrefutable evidence.
” His attention turns back to me. “And using your cell call log, we can also see that you haven’t actually spoken to her since your arrival here, in which a three-minute call was placed.
We can see that you’ve blocked all numbers associated with your parents otherwise. ”
“Did she try to tell you I invited her?” I ask.
“When the police made it clear that her being your mother doesn’t entitle her access to you, she attempted to say that she has a blanket invitation as your mother.
You’d support that. I made it clear that you do not, in fact, support that.
I have it in writing from you, I have it verbally from you, and I also have it in video evidence that you’ve told her to leave and stay out of your life.
Which goes against her claim of a ‘blanket invitation’. ”
“That must have pissed her off,” I muse.