CHAPTER SIXTEEN
(Charlotte)
Living on the West Coast had given me a skewed idea of travel, so when I learned that our trip to Connecticut wouldn’t be an epic, hours-long road trip, I was a little disappointed.
“Here I was, picturing rest stops and gas station snacks,” I said wistfully as we pulled up to a massive stone wall and set of towering iron gates. “And we’re here already.”
“The car is electric,” Matt reminded me. “We wouldn’t need to stop for gas.”
“I said snacks,” I replied, admiring his profile as he concentrated on the road. He was heart-stoppingly handsome a hundred percent of the time, but there was something extra hot about him when he was driving. “I’m glad we didn’t have Allison bring us. I like this. Just the two of us.”
He gave me a smile as we passed through the gates. “I wanted the extra time with you to myself. The calm before the storm.”
My stomach pitched. He’d been making jokes like that for the past day, but it seemed like the closer we got to his childhood home, the more frequent those jokes were becoming, to the point that they didn’t feel like jokes anymore. They seemed like dire prophecy.
I’d brought all the clothes Sophie had advised me to take—and since she’d been the editor of a fashion magazine before, I trusted her taste—but looking the part was one component. If I stuck out like a sore thumb, would he decide that our relationship was a bad idea?
I wasn’t supposed to exist, in the first place, and wouldn’t have unless Scott had gotten sick. What were the chances I would fit in better among Matt’s high-society relatives and friends?
We drove through a wooded area, then past meadows of wildflowers like something out of a storybook before the house came into view.
“Oh, that’s not nearly as big as I was imagining,” I said, relief loosening my nerves’ grip.
“What?” A look of understanding dawned on his face, and with a small chuckle, he said, “Oh, no. That’s the groundskeeper’s house.”
The groundskeeper’s house was larger than my parents’.
It seemed like we drove forever before I spotted mansard roofs and white stone rising from behind the trees. “That’s your mother’s house?”
“That’s it,” Matt said, guiding us around a manned gate with a wave to the guard inside.
“And that was a security checkpoint…on the property.” Maybe I was starting to sound rude about the level of wealth on display, but it was difficult to get my mind around it. “Groundskeeper, guards… I assume there are servants in the house?”
“Yes. My mother lives for reinforcing the status quo.” He pulled the car around an enormous, weather-stained fountain and stopped in front of the huge front doors to what appeared to be a miniature Versailles. “Appearances were very important to her, after she married my father. She didn’t come from old money and she’s still insecure about it.”
Then what would she think of me?
As if reading my thoughts, Matt reached across the center console and squeezed my knee reassuringly. “It doesn’t matter what anybody thinks of you this weekend, all right? I love you. And I decide who’s a part of my life. Not my mother and her friends.”
It should have reassured me. It made me queasier.
As soon as we got out of the car, someone in actual livery appeared to take the key fob Matt tossed them. One of the huge, arched front doors opened and a man who appeared to be in his fifties stepped out. His brown hair was thinning on top, and he had a face the color of boiled chicken, like a man who’d never seen the sunlight. And, like the other guy, he was dressed super formally.
“Alan,” Matt said in greeting.
“Mr. Ashe,” the man responded, and I got the picture. This guy was the butler. A real, no-shit butler. And then, he turned his gaze to me and smiled warmly. “And Ms. Holmes.”
“Is my sister here?” Matt asked, leading me past Alan and into the largest foyer I’d ever been in.
The walls were the same white stone as the outside of the house. My jaw dropped at the fireplace; it was big enough that I could have stood up in it comfortably. It faced a sweeping curved staircase with a deep blue runner held in place by thin gold rods. The railing was marble, with fat, round columns anchoring it to the stairs. At the bottom, a huge spray of flowers stood on the end of the banister. That bouquet matched an even larger one on the massive round table in the center of the room.
I walked carefully across the checkered marble floor, terrified that my shoes would scratch it somehow. If I broke something, I would not be able to pay for it.
And this was where Matt had grown up.
“No, sir,” Alan answered Matt. “She’s due to arrive later this evening.”
“Much later, I hope,” Matt said, and strolled over to my side. Leaning down close to my ear, he whispered, “Relax your shoulders. I used to send my Hot Wheels cars down that banister for fun.”
I took a deep breath, but it didn’t do much to help me relax.
“Your mother is in the conservatory,” Alan said. “Shall I announce you?”
Announce us? I was going to faint.
Matt shook his head. “No, she’s not going to want to meet my girlfriend while she’s gardening. Let her know I arrived, though. I want to show Charlotte around.”
“Very good, sir,” the butler responded.
“Very good, sir.” Like this was Downton Abbey.
It might as well have been. The house looked like something a railroad tycoon would have built.
“Come on.” Matt lifted his cane and gave the air a little poke. “Let me show you where we’re staying.”
“I beg your pardon,” Alan said as we reached the bottom of the stairs. “Your mother has Ms. Holmes staying in the east wing.”
“I’m forty years old. I think it’s all right if my girlfriend sleeps with me,” Matt said, effectively shutting the butler down.
Once we reached the second floor, I whispered, “This was where you were staying when you were recuperating? Did you have to walk like six miles every day?”
“It was good for me. Built strength.” He pointed me down a hallway. “My room is that way.”
Approximately six miles, as I’d estimated earlier. A long blue carpet ran over the intricate parquet floor. There was another fireplace in the hallway, as well as towering arched windows behind matching drapes. And so much wainscoting. Huge oil paintings of pastoral scenes were supported by wires from the molded ceiling.
“This isn’t a house,” I said. “This is a palace.”
“It’s outdated,” he agreed. “It’s been in the family for generations.”
“Yeah, I got the ‘generational wealth’ vibe,” I said dryly.
What I also noticed was, there weren’t a lot of doors. Which meant the rooms were probably frickin’ huge, as well.
“This one,” he said, stopping near one of those rare doors.
And I was right. The room was enormous, with high ceilings, dark wood paneling, yet another huge fireplace, and a bed that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a historical drama.
I recognized some of the features from our long-distance sexy times, but a phone screen didn’t convey the depth and size. Of course, besides the antique look of the place, there was also a huge television, a mini-fridge, shelves of books that, upon closer inspection, were hundreds of role-playing game manuals. A few framed movie posters decorated the walls, from old films I’d never heard of before: Beastmaster, Legend, something called Spaceballs… I assumed they were all nerd stuff.
“This is your childhood bedroom?” I asked, picking up a Pikachu plush from one of the wing-backed chairs by the fire. “Grim.”
“Not my childhood bedroom. My teenage bedroom,” he clarified, flushing bright red at the sight of the toy in my hands. “My sister and I were both in the nursery until we turned twelve.”
“The nursery?” It really was a different world.
“Freaking out?” he asked.
I wouldn’t lie to him. “Yeah. A little.”
He arched a brow.
“A lottle,” I admitted. “But I’ll get used to it. It’s weirdly comforting to see all this modern-ish stuff in here. I felt like I time traveled for a minute.”
“I have more comforting familiarity, if needed,” he said, going to one of the nightstands. He opened a drawer and produced a baggie. “Want me to roll one up?”
“Do I want to be high when I meet your mother?” I pondered sarcastically. Then, with a defeated exhale, I conceded, “Yeah. I probably should be. At least a little.”
He took the baggie, a rolling tray, and some papers to the desk.
“This isn’t old shit from the nineties, right?” I asked.
“It’s from my recovery,” he promised. “I smoked a lot of weed on top of all those painkillers. Which probably wasn’t a smart idea. Don’t follow my bad example.”
While he rolled, I wandered the room and inspected things. There was a collection of movies on tape. I pulled one out. “This is VHS, right?”
He didn’t look up. “Yes.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person before,” I said, giving the cartridge a little shake.
He sighed deeply.
“I’m making you feel old again, aren’t I?” I put the tape back.
“Time makes me feel old. You point out the existence of time.” He glanced up and gave me a little smile. “I don’t even have a VHS player in here. These are for nostalgia.”
Near a set of French doors stood a long sideboard with an impressive collection of fully assembled Lego sets. “You were clearly a very popular teen.”
“Hey!” he said defensively, coming to stand beside me. “Don’t disparage my teen hobby. Do you know how far you have to drive to get to a fucking mall out here?”
“You would have hung out at the mall?”
The look on his face told me I was making him aware of his mortality again.
He turned his attention to the Lego. “First of all, these sets were amazing. This was before the scourge of the licensed property. I’ve got the Royal Knight’s Castle, The Black Knight’s Castle, the King’s Mountain Fortress… These are collectors’ items.”
I had to turn away to hide my laughter.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I turned back and looped my arms around his neck. “I can’t figure out why I find you so charming.”
“Well, you are related to your brother. Nerd genes are strong. Isn’t your dad into model trains?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to protest, but he was right. “Yeah. Now that you mention it, he did have this huge model train set before I was born. He had to take it all apart when…”
When I was born. I didn’t want to dwell on that.
“We can’t smoke that in here, right?” I changed the subject before Matt could call me out on my trailing off.
“No, my mom would kill me.” It was such a cute statement coming from a grown man. He nodded toward the doors. “We can smoke on the balcony, though.
“A balcony,” I said, as we stepped out onto it. “Must have been pretty convenient for sneaking out.”
“Sneaking out to where?” He dropped into one of the padded wicker patio chairs and pulled a lighter from his pocket.
“Good point.” I rested my arms on the rough stone balustrade. “Is this place made of granite?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed around the joint held between his lips.
“So, we’re getting a low dose of radiation the entire time we’re here?” I turned and leaned against the railing.
He frowned. “Granite is radioactive?”
“Yeah, it can be. It releases radon, which—” I stopped myself. He’d said his dad had died of cancer. I would keep my knowledge to myself. I waved my hand. “There are those nerd genes.”
“They’ll get worse through exposure to me.” He patted his thigh. “Come here.”
I sat on his knee and let him bring the lit joint to my mouth for a puff. He was right; I did need something to unwind my nerves. I looked out at the view, a terraced lawn with paths and fountains straight out of Pemberley.
“My sister and I used to Rollerblade on those paths,” he said, gesturing to two wide, white-paved avenues flanking a rectangular pond. “I could get so much air off those stairs.”
How had he managed any sort of a normal childhood, living here? Legos and marble floors. Rollerblades and ornamental gardens. My mind rebelled at the notion of any of those things going together.
“This is nice,” I said, relaxing against him.
He called my bluff. “You hate it here.”
“It wouldn’t be my choice for a vacation, but it’s fascinating. Seeing how you grew up. What shaped you into the guy I love.” I nuzzled his cheek above the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave off that morning.
“You’re making this into an anthropological study,” he said tightly as he held in a hit.
“Kind of. A study of you.” I waited for him to exhale, then went in for a kiss. I was expecting to have a playful little taste, but his arm tightened around my waist, and his tongue slid into my mouth. My head swam, and I squirmed against his thigh, my own pressed tight together. I caught his low groan between my lips and responded in kind, pressing my hands against the front of his crisp linen shirt.
“Oh, for god’s sake.”
I started and lifted my head guiltily at the voice. It sounded very much like a mom voice. This can’t be how I meet his mother.
But the woman standing below the balcony, glaring up at us in disgust, was too young to be his mother. Although, she was dressed a lot older than I suspected she was. Her dark hair was the same shade as Matt’s, but there wasn’t a hint of curl except for the turned-in ends at her shoulders. Her pearl earrings were big enough for us to see from our height, and she wore a depressingly beige pantsuit.
“Catherine,” Matt said with a heavy sigh, patting my bottom to get me to stand. I rose to my feet and more or less tried to hide behind him, as if we’d been caught naked, not just kissing.
“Drugs? In Mother’s home?” His sister snapped.
“I’m not in Mother’s home,” he pointed out. “I’m outside.”
“And I suppose this is your guest.” She said the word “guest” like other people would say “hooker.”
“This is Charlotte.” He leaned heavily on my name. “And yes, she’s here as my guest.”
I didn’t even get a sarcastic “Pleased to meet you.” Catherine scoffed in disgust and marched away.
Eyes rolled skyward, Matt flicked the cherry off the end of the joint and scuffed it out on the tile with his shoe. “Come on. We’ll get the introductions out of the way.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to be introduced to his sister. But I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to make a worse second impression.