Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The last time I arrived at the James mansion, it was for Stella’s birthday party. Back then, I was just Isabella’s friend. Now I’m also Victor’s girlfriend. It’s amazing how much can change in just a few weeks. If someone had told us we’d be having Sunday dinner with his family, we would’ve laughed in their face. Yet here we are, dressed in our Sunday best, fresh from church with my dad— yeah, that actually happened —about to sit down for a weekly dinner that Victor hasn’t attended in years.
I smooth down my rust-orange dress, the delicate lace trim grazing my knees as I adjust the thin straps on my shoulders. My heels click against the driveway as Victor and I walk up the entryway to his porch. He’s so handsome in his gray suit, the intricate tattoos crawling up his throat peeking through the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt.
“Are we late? What time did you tell them we’d be here?” I ask, fidgeting with my glasses.
Victor takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. “I didn’t.”
My head snaps to his. “What do you mean you didn’t ?”
“I didn’t tell them we were coming.” He grins, a mischievous glint in his piercing blue eyes.
I slow to a stop, suddenly unsure. There are a few cars parked out front, probably belonging to his family members. But I’m just a guest. They’ll be thrilled to see their “prodigal son” back home. But what about me? “Is it okay that I’m here?”
“My mom loves you.”
“But she doesn’t know about us. Does she?” As far as I’m aware, my dad and my siblings are the only ones who know we’re together. I finally confessed to Yasmine and Niko, expecting their judgment, but received their understanding instead. Niko wanted to break Ian’s nose, but after begging him not to, he finally calmed down.
If anyone else really digs into Esme’s social media posts, with all her vague comments about backstabbing friends and two-timing exes, they might put two and two together. It doesn’t help that she unfollowed both of us—something I should’ve seen coming, but it stung anyway. It’s been tough, really tough , losing her as a friend. The tears I’ve cried over losing her friendship are innumerable, and Victor doesn’t have a clue.
“She doesn’t know. But Quentin and Fatima both know—and Conner.”
“Conner Brathwaite knows about us?”
He shrugs. “It came up during his tattoo session.” That means Novalee knows about us too—being his wife, and all. I wanted to be the one who told my friend but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
Victor stands in front of me, cupping my face with his free hand. He leans in, and his lips meet mine in a sweet kiss that quickly turns heated. Our tongues dance as he pulls me close, my body molding to his.
Since Esme kicked me out, I’ve moved back home with my dad, but on most nights, I find myself at Victor’s place. It’s been tricky sneaking back home after a night of hot sex, but so far, I’ve been in the clear of my dad finding out. Not that my dad is the strict type, but that doesn’t mean I want him to know anything about my sex life. Gross.
I can’t wait to move into my new apartment. Just one more week.
Reluctantly, I pull back, not wanting to put on a show, just in case someone’s watching from one of the mansion’s many windows. “Not here,” I whisper, running my hands up his arms and sliding them around his neck.
Victor cracks a smile, his fingers brushing against my pearl necklace as he gives it a delicate tug. “You’re so fucking adorable and polite.”
“Oh, shut up.” I scrunch my face at him, unable to hide my own smile. He loves to tease me, always calling me a good girl, even though he knows I like to be bad in the bedroom. Not that he’s ever complained about it. We’ve been enjoying each other. Immensely.
Hand in hand, we finish our trek to the front door. “Are you nervous?” Victor asks, sensing my slight unease.
“No. Parents love me.” I grin, pushing away the thoughts of Ian’s parents. They were shocked by our breakup, especially Anita, who had become like a second mother to me. Breaking up with Ian was one thing, but breaking up with my ex-future mother-in-law? Devastating.
Anita and I had met for lunch, and she told me Ian said I cheated on him. I confided in her about him hitting me. She was heartbroken and angry but not entirely surprised. Her reaction was more one of deep disappointment and sadness, as if she had suspected he was capable of such a thing.
“Oh, Skylar,” she had said, her voice heavy with emotion. “I’m so sorry.” She reached across the table, clasping my hand in hers. “You did the right thing, sweetheart.”
We had a good cry over it, both saddened by the fact that we would no longer be a part of each other’s lives like we once were. Anita had been a constant source of support and love throughout my relationship with Ian, and losing her felt like losing a piece of my heart.
But as much as it hurt, I couldn’t spend my life with someone who would raise a hand to me, no matter how much I loved his family.
“What’s wrong?” Victor’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, concern etched on his handsome face.
“Nothing.” I touch his cheek with my palm, and he leans in for a chaste kiss. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” he dismisses with a chuckle. Though I can see right through him that he’s as anxious as I am. “But it’s been a while since I’ve been here for a Sunday dinner.”
I nod, understanding the significance of this moment for him. Growing up in this massive mansion, surrounded by wealth and privilege, couldn’t have been easy for someone like Victor, who has always marched to the beat of his own drum.
He unlocks the door and reaches for my hand, intertwining our fingers. He gives me a gentle squeeze, and I squeeze back, silently reassuring him that I’m here for him, no matter what.
As we step into the grand foyer together, the opulent chandelier above us casts a sparkling glow on the shiny marble floors beneath our feet. The enticing aroma of simmering spices wafts through the air, making my mouth water and hinting at the delicious meal to come. From somewhere deeper inside the mansion, the gentle strains of classical music drift toward us, mingling with the sound of laughter and lively conversation that puts me at ease despite my nerves.
“Isabella, darling, is that you?” a melodic voice calls out. I recognize it as Eleanor James.
“No, it’s me, your best-looking child,” Victor replies, a cocky smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Eleanor emerges from the living room, her eyes widening with delight. “Victor!” She rushes over, a sheen of tears in her eyes, and envelops him in a big hug. Then she turns to me, pulling me into an equally warm embrace, the scent of her floral Chanel perfume enveloping me. She seems confused at first, seeing us together, but quickly puts the pieces together.
“I thought I’d bring Skylar with me.”
“Oh, of course.” Eleanor’s eyes dart between us, a silent question hanging in the air.
“She’s my girlfriend.”
Eleanor’s eyes widen, a mix of shock and delight dancing across her face before a warm smile spreads across her lips. “When did this happen?”
“A few weeks ago,” I answer, leaning into Victor’s arm as he wraps it around my waist and kisses my forehead.
“This is the best news!” Eleanor’s eyes sparkle with joy. “Quentin,” she shouts toward the dining room, a closed-off space obscuring my view of who’s inside. “Senior,” she clarifies, likely distinguishing between father and son.
Senator James comes out, his smile melting away to a stunned expression. “Victor,” he says, his tone cordial. I sense a hint of happiness in his voice, like he’s glad Victor is there, despite their complicated relationship. He doesn’t outwardly show it, but I can see it—there’s hope for the two of them to patch things up.
“Hey,” Victor says nonchalantly, but I can see it in him too. Even if he’s too stubborn to admit it, he cares about his stepfather and wants to make amends.
There’s a loaded pause, a subtle shift in the senator’s body language that I can’t quite read. Victor’s shoulders tense, a fleeting expression of discomfort crossing his face. It’s an awkward moment between them, both seemingly waiting for the other to say something snarky or confrontational. I know they haven’t had the easiest relationship, and it pains me to see the guarded uncertainty behind Victor’s casual facade.
His relationship with his brother has improved. And Quentin has been trying to foster Victor’s relationship with their father, but Victor is hesitant to make the first move. I can’t blame him, considering how let down he used to get as a kid, constantly trying to win over his stepdad’s affection and approval. It’s a wound that hasn’t fully healed, but I know deep down, Victor loves his stepdad and wants a better relationship with him.
After their brief awkward but hopeful moment, the senator greets me. “Hello, Skylar.”
Eleanor blurts out the good news that I’m Victor’s girlfriend, answering his unasked question.
Senator James, a charming but serious man who isn’t as expressive as Eleanor, nods, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Well, I couldn’t be happier for you both.”
Eleanor’s smile grows even wider. “It’s so wonderful to have you here, Skylar,” she whispers, her voice filled with genuine affection.
“Join us,” the senator says, inviting us further into the house. Laughter ensues from the kitchen. It seems like everyone is having a good time. I hear Fatima say something that makes everyone laugh, and I can’t wait to join in on the fun.
The evening Texas breeze caresses our skin as Victor and I share a lounger on the rooftop of his loft. A few candles flicker nearby, their warm vanilla scent mingling with the fresh air. They were Victor’s idea, a romantic gesture that gives me all the feels. The smooth R&B vocals of Coco Jones’s “ICU” drift from my phone, setting the perfect mood for a cozy night under the partly cloudy skies.
The Jameses’ Sunday dinner wasn’t the formal, stuffy affair I thought it would be, regardless of everyone being dressed to the nines, a team of wait staff, and an extravagant table setting. To my surprise, it was a down-to-earth gathering of twelve: family, church friends, and even their priest. The vibe was cozy and welcoming, and the food? Oh my God, the five-course meal was to die for. We started with delectable appetizers, moved on to a soul-warming soup, and then a fresh, crisp salad. The main course, a pan-seared beef tenderloin with red wine reduction and truffle-infused risotto, was absolutely divine. And don’t even get me started on the desserts—I’m still dreaming about that warm white-chocolate lava cake.
And can you believe they do this every Sunday? Sign me the hell up.
Victor promised his mom we’d be back next week, which brought happy tears to her eyes in an instant. She pulled me into a massively tight hug, thanking me over and over as if I were the one responsible for us being there. Well, maybe in a way. Victor had invited me, wanting to introduce me to his family and their friends—something he’d never done before with any of the women he’d dated. But I like to hope he would’ve shown up with or without me.
“I haven’t eaten that good in a long time,” I confess, my stomach full and satisfied.
Victor nods, a content smile playing on his lips. “Mom goes all out for her Sunday dinners.” He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer.
A yawn escapes my lips, and I nestle into him, resting my head on his muscular chest. “I didn’t have Sunday dinners growing up, but my mama was a great cook,” I reminisce as a fond memory of my childhood floods my mind. Despite the many challenges we faced, there were moments when I truly believed she loved me, even if she didn’t always know how to show it.
Victor’s fingers pause their gentle exploration of my arm, and he turns to face me, his blue eyes filled with curiosity. “What was your favorite meal as a child? I mean, what did your mom cook that you liked the most?”
“I loved her ham hocks,” I answer without hesitation. “It’s the only dinner I’m confident I can make as well as she did. My dad loved them too, believe it or not. He hasn’t always been a die-hard vegan.”
A mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Do you think he’d give up veganism for one day for a plate of your ham hocks?”
I consider his question, a smile tugging at my lips. “Nope,” I conclude, shaking my head. “He’s all in. And I respect him for it, but I’m a carnivore—one hundred percent.”
Victor holds me tighter, his lips brushing against the side of my head in a tender kiss. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with affection and pride. “Your dad is cool, though.”
“He likes you,” I say. Victor had shown up at my home for a vegan breakfast with my dad and me. My dad grilled him over the meal, but Victor handled it well—calm and confident, even though I could tell he was nervous, which was adorable. After breakfast, we all went to church together.
“He told you that?” Victor looks hopeful, like he genuinely cares what my dad thinks of him.
“No, we haven’t had a chance to talk yet. But I can tell.”
“Good. One less person against us,” he says, attempting to joke, but I can hear the melancholy in his voice.
“Yeah,” I say after a moment, my thoughts drifting to Esme. A wave of sadness washes over me, making my chest tighten.
He notices the change in my demeanor and gently cups my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “I’m sorry, Skylar. I know how much you miss her.” His eyes fill with understanding and a hint of guilt. “I hope you guys can work things out.”
I lean into his touch, finding comfort in him. “Me too.”
He nods, holding me tighter. We stay like that for a bit, just holding each other close and taking comfort in the warmth of our bodies pressed together. When we finally pull back, he tries to lighten the mood by changing the subject. “You’ve been slacking,” he teases, a playful grin on his face.
I pull back slightly, with a wry grin, grateful for the distraction. “How so?”
“You haven’t made me ham hocks.”
I laugh, the sound breaking through the somber moment. “What are you going to do for me?”
He arches a brow. “I’ll show you what I’m going to do in about”—he checks the time on his Apple Watch—“thirty minutes.”
I tilt my head, my brows knitting together as I study his face. “Why thirty minutes?”
“Because I’m too full to move at the moment.”
“Same,” I giggle, snuggling closer to him and trailing my fingers up and down his abs. “I’ll make you ham hocks next week when I move into my place. It’ll be our first meal there together.”
“Can’t wait.” He captures my lips in a long, slow kiss that sends shivers down my spine.
As we break apart, I whisper, “What are you going to do in thirty minutes?”
“Fuck you over that balcony,” he says, his voice low and seductive.
A delicious warmth spreads between my legs at his words. I laugh, shocked but completely down for it.