Chapter 9
brENT
We’re quiet for the last few minutes of the drive. While I’ve enjoyed getting lost in his family history, the closer we get, the more nervous I become. I chew my lip as I stare out the window, ignoring the way my reflection stares back at me.
I’ve had one experience with family, and that’s my own. So I can’t help but ask, “Are you sure your parents are going to be okay with you bringing me home?”
Rafe smiles. “Yep.”
“I mean… as your boyfriend. They’re seriously not going to care if you bring home a boyfriend? Your cousin is one thing, but you’re their kid.”
He looks at me with amusement. “I brought home my first boyfriend when I was eleven.”
My jaw drops.
“Then again at fourteen and seventeen. I won’t pretend I haven’t brought home more girlfriends than boyfriends, but I promise, they’re not going to care one way or another. They’re indifferent to my bisexuality.”
“I—seriously?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t even comprehend that. They didn’t care when you came out?”
Rafe chuckles. I jump a little when he grips my wrist. “I never came out. I simply brought home my boyfriend, and that’s it. As it should be.”
I close my eyes as I imagine what might have happened if I’d done that. Would my parents have kicked me out sooner?
“That’s awesome,” I say.
He squeezes my wrist again and then puts his hand back on the steering wheel.
“So… what am I supposed to do as your boyfriend?” I ask.
I love that Rafe always has a smile. Now is no different. “Nothing special. Hold hands sometimes. Maybe I’ll kiss your cheek. You look at me with hearts in your eyes. That kind of thing. Easy.”
Like that’s going to be difficult. Easy. Sure. I’m going to be acting so good he’s going to know it’s not acting. “Easy,” I repeat.
I’m distracted by my errantly beating heart as I spot one of the big green directional signs that reads: Holt Grove Vineyard 11.
“Your vineyard is on a sign,” I say, smiling.
“It’s on many,” he agrees, laughing. “It’s pretty big out here. We have the second largest vineyard in Napa Valley, but definitely the largest brand and estate.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll show you in ten miles.”
“Wow, mysterious.”
He winks, and I continue to watch out the window.
We’ve been in wine country for a while now.
There are vineyards all over the place. I know the moment we reach Holt land because there’s a sign at the end of the fence that announces Holt Grove Vineyard.
For the next several minutes, I’m staring at the vineyard, though I get the impression we’re not in growing season right now.
The vines don’t look green and thriving.
Rafe turns down a road to the right that has another directional sign, indicating that we’re turning toward Holt Grove Vineyard.
It isn’t long before we’re driving under a dramatic arch that reads the same thing.
Another mile or so, and Rafe stops at an intersection with more directional markers—bed-and-breakfast, restaurant, winery tours, and wine tasting room.
“Wow,” I say as I scan down the sign. Rafe waits for me to finish reading all the directions before driving straight on. “When you said a whole brand, I had no idea what I was getting into.”
“Uh-huh. Hold on to that thought.”
I’m not sure what he could be referring to until an actual damn castle comes into view and we’re driving straight for it.
“No shit,” I say, laughing.
“Next fun fact. Great-something-grandpa was a Baron of Aston in Warwick County, England. His father before him was knighted by King James VI. So when my family came to the new world years later, they took the family castle with them, stone by stone,” Rafe says.
“That’s fucking… I don’t even have words. This is an old English castle? Right here in northern California?”
He smiles. “Yep.”
“You grew up in a castle!” I exclaim.
Rafe laughs. “I did.”
Seriously, I’m speechless. Holy fucking fuck. This man is like royalty. Are barons royalty? “Do you still have a title in England?”
“Dunno. I probably should know, but I never thought to ask about it. It’s just a fun part of our family history, you know?
I would imagine we still have a claim to the barony as some families will say they have claims to the throne for being a bastard child of some member of the royal family or, further beyond, being a member of the family who was ousted from the throne.
” Rafe shrugs. “Doesn’t truly matter. We left England, and here we are. Now we’re wine royalty.”
I think he’s joking, but I love this all the same.
I’ve always known Rafe was incredible, but knowing his family history makes him so much more…
debonair. Is that the word? He has history.
Real history. And he knows his history. I don’t know anything truly about my ancestors except that if they’re like my parents, I’m not proud to be their descendant.
As we pull up, I stare at the battlements on top of the turrets as if I’m in a fairy tale.
There are slitted windows that had been designed for archers, and curved, pointed doors with heavy iron fittings.
Not surprisingly, there’s a small stone chapel close by as well.
Of course, there is. What castle didn’t have its own chapel?
I’m almost surprised when we pull in and there isn’t a butler or someone to retrieve our bags for us. Stepping out of the car, I’m struck by the enormity of the castle. We’re staring up stone steps that lead to an arched entryway with a portcullis. In real life.
This can’t be real. It’s far too incredible.
“Come on, boyfriend,” Rafe says and hands me my bag. I sling it over my shoulder, and I’m only pulled out of my moment with the castle when he takes my hand, sliding our fingers together.
My breath punches from my lungs as my heart threatens to slam its way out of my chest. It’s difficult to remind myself that this is just hand-holding. It’s not a damn proposal.
It’s also fake. Fake, fake, fake.
Rafe leads me up the stairs, and I’m awestruck as we walk across an actual drawbridge with its chains that appear as if they’re in working condition.
There’s no moat, but I imagine there must have once been one back in England.
Through the giant wooden doors is a courtyard, and we’re surrounded by high stone walls with leaded glass windows.
He pulls me along to another wooden door and pushes it open. The inside is just as spectacular as the outside, with its stone walls and torches leaning from the wall. They’re not lit. There are chandeliers all over the place.
I’m not sure where to look: the art on the walls, the stone ceiling with its curved arches, or the marble floor with stunning rugs. I feel like I’ve been transported back in time.
“Speechless,” Rafe muses.
I meet his eyes, imagining that mine must be wide as saucers, my mouth hanging open. I’d be impressed with this place if I were simply here taking a tour, but knowing this is Rafe’s childhood home? That’s an entirely different level of awe.
“Rafe?”
My heart stops when I hear a woman calling him.
“Rafe, honey, is that you?”
Rafe grins. “Yeah, Ma. Just got in.”
I’m holding my breath as she comes around the corner. My first impression is that I know exactly where he gets his slate-blue eyes and ashy blond hair from. He looks just like this woman. Otherwise, she’s shorter than I anticipated.
She stops short when her eyes meet mine. They drop to our linked hands, and my entire body tenses as I wait for her to freak out. But then she’s beaming as she continues to come toward us and takes Rafe in her arms with a tight hug.
“I knew you were hiding someone. Why didn’t you tell me you were hiding a boyfriend when I kept saying girl?” she chides.
Yep, still surreal.
Rafe laughs. “Because I wasn’t planning to bring him home, but here he is.”
She tsks at him and steps back to look at me. I search her eyes to find the disgust. The disapproval. Anything at all. But all I see is warmth and welcome.
“Are you a hugger, darling?” she asks, and before I can answer, she takes me in her arms.
My breath catches for another reason now. Tears immediately sting my eyes because his mom is hugging me. When’s the last time anyone’s mom hugged me? I’m not even sure when the last time my own had. Probably before the first time I told her I was gay. Which means it’s been nearly a decade.
“I’m Marjorie,” Rafe’s mom says as she pulls back. She doesn’t miss the moisture in my eyes. Her expression softens, and she gently pats my cheek. “And you are?”
“Brent,” I answer, somewhat breathless.
“Welcome to the family, Brent. I can’t wait to get to know you.”
I nod, because if I say anything at all, I risk the chance that I might bawl.
Marjorie turns to Rafe. “Take your things upstairs. You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone, and I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what young people get up to in college, so I’m going to assume that you’ll be okay sharing a space.”
My cheeks heat, but shockingly, Rafe just laughs. “Yeah, Mom. We’ll be fine.”
“Very well. Go get settled and then come downstairs. We’re in the parlor.”
“Okay.”
Marjorie kisses Rafe’s cheek and then gives me a beaming smile before turning back the way she came. I take a deep breath once we’re alone and try to clear out the emotions. “Sorry,” I whisper. “I know you said she’d be fine, but I wasn’t expecting… a warm welcome.”
Rafe lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him with a sideways hug. “Get used to many more hugs. My mom is a hugger. So be ready to get your fill of mom hugs.”
I sigh. “Thanks.”
“Come on, boyfriend. This way.”
If he keeps calling me boyfriend, I might start panting like a fucking dog. As it is, if I were a dog, my tail would be going a million miles an hour as it wagged. I’d be knocking shit over.
The stairs are down a stone corridor that opens into another foyer.
They’re unsurprisingly grand and lined with dark carpet up to the second and third floors.
We get off on the second floor, and the hallways are somehow even more impressive.
Wider. There are little seating areas and nooks all over the place.
There are painted portraits on the walls. Landscapes. Even the occasional animal. Rafe pushes open a door, and I’m in a prince’s bedroom.
My gaze immediately locks onto the single bed. A queen-size, if I had to take a guess. Fuck. I’m going to be sharing a bed with this man! How the hell am I going to keep it together?
Even the bed situation can’t keep my attention, though.
Not when his closet is as big as the bedroom, though it’s not all closet.
He has a whole gaming system set up in here.
It’s fucking wild. Then there’s the bathroom, which is some strange combination of luxury bathroom and weird fucking library. Yes, there are books.
But the real showstopper is the fucking balcony. Balcony!!
“Dude,” I say as I stare outside. Rafe opens the doors for me, and I step out to look over his kingdom. It’s gorgeous. Everywhere you look, the view is simply stunning.
“It’s better when the grapevines are green, but it’s pretty all year,” Rafe says as he leans against the railing beside me.
“I admit that I had no idea what I was walking into, but I’m not sure you could blow my mind any more than this.”
Rafe looks at me, and I think I just challenged him. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Just wait until I give you a tour.”
There can’t possibly be more to see, though. Can there?