Chapter 10
RAFE
I’ve always known I live a privileged life.
Not a lucky life or a fortunate life. I’m privileged.
I grew up in a damn castle with a family that is very well off.
Yes, we work hard for that wealth and run a business that never stops expanding, but that doesn’t mean my situation is any less privileged.
I have opportunities that most people don’t have. For instance, I’ll be graduating from college with no debt. That in and of itself is huge. Even if I choose to go to graduate school, I’ll still be leaving with no debt.
As I look at Brent taking in his surroundings, I feel a little self-conscious for the first time in my life.
Not embarrassed, exactly. Imagine being embarrassed because you and your family are well off.
But I’m so damn conscious of the cards that Brent has been dealt, and I bring him here where my life is the exact opposite.
I didn’t miss the way he kind of clung to my mother when she hugged him. He came from conditional love, and here I am with an abundance. While I meant for this entire trip to be about giving him a family that will latch on and smother him in love, I almost feel like it’s being rubbed in his face.
Everything I have that he didn’t. Doesn’t.
My chest feels tight as I watch him stare at the vineyard with awe. I have this strange feeling of wanting to protect Brent. I want to wrap him in my arms and erase all the shit he’s gone through. I want to give him the family he’s always deserved and been robbed of.
Instead of letting him enjoy it, he’s now pretending to be in a role that he doesn’t want to be in.
Brent meets my eyes and smiles. “This is really fucking cool, Rafe.” I nod and watch as his smile fades. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just realized that I made the wrong decision. I should have just had you come with me and not pretend to be my boyfriend.”
His eyebrows knit together. His shoulders stiffen. “Did I fuck up already?”
I sigh. “No. Not at all. But I want you to enjoy your holiday being surrounded by people who are going to love you instead of trying to remember a fake boyfriend role.”
“Holding hands and looking at you like you hung the stars. It’s not that complicated.”
I reach for his hand and grip it tightly. Brent studies our laced fingers for a second and then meets my eyes. “All I want from you, your only job, is to have a good time. Okay?”
“So you don’t want me to—”
His words cut off when I shake my head. “I already introduced you as my boyfriend, so…” I continue to shake my head and consider telling my mother the truth. Telling everyone the truth since I know she went into the other room and announced that I’d just arrived with my boyfriend by my side.
“Rafe, I don’t mind,” Brent says, his tone low. “It’s not a big deal. Like you said, holding hands and stuff. Not a big sacrifice.”
“Just… I mean it; your only job is to have a good time. Okay? Don’t put too much focus on this. I’ll worry about this.”
Brent stares at me for a minute before nodding.
No doubt trying to figure out what this is about.
I’m not sure I could get the words out to explain, though, and I don’t want it to come across as pity or anything.
That’s certainly not the case. I don’t feel sorry for him, but I do hate the situation he was given.
What is that bullshit that people like to spew?
Love the sinner, hate the sin? That’s how I view people like Brent’s parents with their holier-than-thou outlook.
And yet, in their determination to be good Christians, they’re being the exact opposite.
They’ve placed their faith in ugliness and hurt the people around them.
If they actually read the words they supposedly lived by, they’d know that they’re further from heaven than their son is.
I’d love to introduce his parents to my grandmother. Let her get her hands on them. Not only would she make them feel foolish, she’d disprove all their bullshit views with actual scripture, as well as a complete history about Biblical translations and how harmful they are with their mistakes.
I squeeze Brent’s hand and smile. “Come on. Let’s go see what everyone is up to.”
Brent nods. We’re walking down the hall when he asks, “Not to sound needy or some shit, but I didn’t do anything wrong that’s making you second-guess this?”
I let his hand go and wrap my arm around his waist to pull him close, giving him a hug.
“The truth is, I was so desperate to get out of being set up and having to entertain girls I’m not interested in, that I wasn’t thinking about you.
I invited you home first and foremost because I want you to be here and enjoy the holidays.
As my best friend, and not because I’m being stupid.
You were given a shitty family, and I think you deserve a family like mine. ”
Brent sighs. “I don’t tell anyone because I don’t want people to feel bad for me.”
“I do feel bad for you, but not in the way you’re talking about.
I feel bad because no one should have to experience that shit, Brent.
Not just you, but no one. I have this big, loving, supportive family, and it’s so…
difficult to know families like yours exist. You’re an amazing person, Brent.
One of my favorite people alive. I hate that they can’t see that, and instead, this one insignificant thing has them casting you out like you don’t matter. ”
“I don’t think about my family much,” he says, shrugging.
“If I really think back, I think when I told them at twelve and realized things were already changing, it’s then that I started emotionally distancing myself from them.
I was a kid, so it’s not like I could distance myself physically or financially, but I did what I could to protect myself.
But yeah. I don’t think about them much. ”
“That’s the part I think I find the saddest. I think about my family all the time because we’re close. Logically, I know that not everyone is close to their family like I am, and I’ve always found that sad.”
“Family means different things to people. Sometimes, in my case, the family you’re born into isn’t worthy of being your family.
The people you surround yourself with, those you choose to have in your life because they legitimately care about you and support you—they’re your real family.
I figured out a long time ago that blood doesn’t dictate family.
Blood only denotes a familial relationship genetically. ”
I rest my head against his. “You’re wise.”
He snorts. “Oh, shut up.”
“I like that outlook. I think you’re right, too.” We continue down the hall in silence for a minute. “Okay, quiz time. Tell me what you remember about my family.”
Brent inhales deeply, and I recognize the expression on his face. As if he’s preparing for an exam at school. It makes me grin.
“Oldest brother is named after a grain—Rice. Rice and Annie have three kids: Marietta, Candice, and Leah. Next brother is literally named for royalty. Royal and Beatrice have a newborn.” He pauses while he thinks. “Sloane?”
“Yep.”
He nods. “Then you, then little sister Ryanne, who is named after your mother Marjorie’s brother Ryan. Uncle Ryan and Aunt Betty have three children, one of whom is Enfield. Did you tell me the others’ names? Families?”
“Don’t remember. Eloise and Quincy are Enfield’s older siblings. Yes, they’re married with families.”
“Got it. Enfield is married to Xavi, a man he was tricked into marrying, for which he hasn’t forgiven his parents.”
“Perfect. I’ll introduce whoever else is around, but don’t worry about remembering names. They all have one to remember, and you have far too many. They’ll understand.”
“Is it often that new people are introduced into a large group like this?” Brent asks as we make our way down the stairs.
“More often than you might think. I wouldn’t be surprised if we meet some new faces in addition to yours this week.”
“Big families mean there’s always someone with a new partner,” he muses.
“Yes, but it also means that we bring a lot of friends home. I wouldn’t be surprised if Royal’s bestie Arnice is here.
He’s practically lived here since we were kids.
Same with Ryanne. She has a group of friends who have been her besties since they were in first grade. They’re almost always here too.”
Brent smiles. “I like that.”
“I do too.” It’s strange to think that bringing friends home is something I’ve taken for granted. I don’t want to keep bringing Brent’s parents up, but I’d wager a guess that’s not something he did. Especially not since he was twelve.
Brent’s feet drag a little as we get closer to the sounds of voices and laughter.
I slow down to let him brace himself. Family and friends will continue to arrive throughout the night and tomorrow, Christmas Eve.
I think I managed to time my arrival early enough so that only my immediate family and a few others will be here.
I squeeze his hand. “I’m right here,” I assure him. “Promise I won’t leave your side at all.”
He gives me an amused look, but I also see the relief in the relaxation of his shoulders. “Let’s go,” he says.
Smiling, I lead him into the parlor. Like the rest of the house, it’s a stone room with leaded-glass windows and a chandelier hanging overhead. Since it was built before heating was truly a thing, there’s a fireplace in most rooms, and this room isn’t any different.
Unlike so many refurbished old homes—such as the Victorian the OXL frat lives in—these fireplaces weren’t outfitted with electric inserts. They burn real fire. Our family has kept this place up and as authentic as possible while still bringing in modern amenities.
Thankfully, our wealthy ancestor built electricity into the home when he rebuilt his old English castle. Over the years, the same veining in the walls was used to modernize and update, but very few places within the castle have been disturbed otherwise.
Exceptions happen, of course. Such as bathrooms and the kitchen. Otherwise, electricity is hidden in plain sight and not with a bunch of cords and metal boxes on the outside of the walls. That’s tacky as fuck, and I’m grateful my family decided not to do that.
The parlor is a large room, but not the biggest gathering spot by far. There’s a decorated tree in the corner by the large windows, a wide rug across the floor, and a dozen different areas for seating. This is considered our cozy family room.
“Rafe,” my mother says and gets to her feet to hug me again, as if she didn’t just greet us at the door a few minutes ago. Her arms are tight around me, and I know it’s been far too long since I was home, despite being here a month ago for Thanksgiving.
She hugs Brent next. My brothers get up to greet me, as do my sisters-in-law. I don’t let go of Brent’s hand, even as they surround him for a hug, too. I promised not to let go, and I won’t.
Except when my two older nieces come rushing at me. I let his hand go then to catch them both, or Candice would go flying. I hug them tightly and kiss their foreheads as they look up at me. “You two been good?” I ask.
“No,” they chorus together, and I see the glint of mischief in their eyes as they run off again.
I stand upright, taking Brent’s hand in mine again. Rice is looking after the girls with a smile. Annie, holding little Leah, is frowning. “At least they’re honest,” she mutters, sighing.
See? Little demons.
Dad greets me, hugging me. He rests a hand on my shoulder and smiles at Brent. I can feel Brent’s nervous energy as he tries to keep a comfortable smile on his face.
“This the one?” Dad asks.
I wince. “How about you don’t go planning a wedding yet?” I suggest. “As I’ve been saying, I’m not ready to get married.”
He gives me a smile as if we’re sharing a secret. Like this is just a practiced skit, and we know the truth. I sigh as Dad winks and turns away without another word.
I meet Brent’s eyes, and thankfully, he’s looking amused more than anything. “Sorry,” I whisper. “They have no chill when it comes to marrying their kids off.”
“Rafe is right,” Ryanne says as she steps into the room and appears at my side, wrapping her arms around my waist. I hug her with my free arm, and she rests her head on my shoulder while looking at Brent.
“I’m meeting my future husband this week.
We’re going to end up with a double wedding. Just you wait.”
“You’re not,” I say, ignoring the double wedding thing.
She rolls her eyes, but when they meet mine, I realize that she’s serious.
“Ry.”
Ryanne shrugs. “He seems cool on paper. We’ll see how I feel about him in person.”
“You’re eighteen."
“Old enough to pop out babies,” she says, smirking. She leans up on her toes to kiss my cheek and then does the same to Brent. “Welcome to the family, Brent.”
My gaze follows her as she heads for the nieces.
“Is she serious?” Brent asks.
“Biologically, yes.” Brent shoves me with his shoulder, and I laugh. “The contracts all have an heir clause, yes. But it’s not an immediate term to be met. Usually, it’s within five years of marriage.”
He looks at me, baffled. I laugh. “If you choose someone on your own, do you still have a contract?”
I shrug. “Dunno. I haven’t truly thought about it or asked. The only thing I’m serious about is not being ready for marriage, family, and kids.”
Something about what I said makes his shoulders drop a little in relief. Interesting. I pull him to the side, where other members of my family are. Those who didn’t get up and bombard us when we walked through the door.
Namely, Enfield and Xavi. They get to their feet when I approach, and while still not letting go of Brent, I hug them both and then take a step back.
“This is my cousin Enfield and his husband, Xavi. My boyfriend, Brent.”
As they exchange greetings, I muse at how easily that word falls from my lips. My boyfriend. I don’t hate the sound of that at all.