Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
AUGUST
I am driving home in my new Porsche 911 Carrera with the red interior and turbo engine that roars like a beast every time I barely touch the gas pedal. The windows are down and the air is cold, making Sinclair squeal and shiver and complain as she bats her hair away from her face. All I can do is laugh at her grumbling, feeling good, feeling fucking free for the first time in my entire life.
It's because of her.
I’m not nervous about Sin formally meeting my parents. When I called to tell my mother that I was bringing Sinclair home for the weekend and could she reach out to Sin’s parents for me and have them over for dinner Friday night, Mom didn’t even hesitate. She’s as excited to spend more time with Sin as I am. Maybe even more so.
The moment I reached out to Iris and asked her to come home for the weekend, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. Iris lives for family drama and is usually the one causing it all, so I’m sure she’ll enjoy being a spectator for once in her life. My younger brother Vaughn is at Lancaster Prep and has zero interest in meeting Sinclair, which is fine. I understand what that’s like. That period in life when you’d rather be with your friends and spending all of your time with them. The absolute drag of having to go home for the weekend when you know your friends are going to have a better time than you since they’re all together. Considering he’ll be home for Thanksgiving break, I’ll just bring Sin back again for the holiday and he can meet her then.
I’m that confident about this decision. This woman is going to become mine. Permanently.
Forever.
By the time we arrive at my family home, it’s obvious Sinclair is nervous. She’s not talking much. Just fidgeting in her seat, constantly running her fingers through her windblown hair and chewing on her lower lip. She’s going to make herself bleed if she keeps it up and finally, I can’t stand it any longer.
Resting my hand on her slender thigh, I give it a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. They’re all going to love you.”
She sends me a grateful look. “Thank you. I just worry about my parents.”
“They’ll be fine.”
“Will they, though? You haven’t met them. You don’t know what they’re like.” She starts gnawing on her lower lip again and when I pull up in front of the house, I throw the car in park and turn toward her, removing my hand from her leg so I can cup it around her chin.
“Your parents aren’t you.” I lean in to kiss her, forcing her to stop eating her damn lower lip. “Stop being so hard on yourself. And your lip.”
She smiles, returning my kiss, and I let go of her chin, turning to glance up at the house my parents live in. I grew up here somewhat—my earliest memories are of the apartment we lived in that Mom and Dad still have, but I spent a lot of years in this massive house. And while some crazy shit has happened here—like the death of my grandmother when she fell down the stairs in a tragic accident—it’s a house full of great family memories that even my grumpy ass can appreciate.
As I’m staring at the set of stairs that leads to the front door, my mother comes running down them, a giant smile on her beautiful face. I climb out of the car and she tackle-hugs me, squeezing me tight and rising up on tiptoe to murmur in my ear, “I’m so glad you’re home.”
I hug her in return before I pull away to check on Sinclair, who’s already exiting the Porsche, that nervous look back on her pretty face. “Sin. Come here.”
She approaches us, a shy smile on her face when she makes eye contact with my mother. “Hi, Mrs. Lancaster. Thank you for inviting me here this weekend.”
“Please, I already told you. Call me Summer.” My mother wraps Sinclair in a hug, patting her back before pulling away. “And we’re so glad you’re here. Let’s go inside.”
A servant grabs our bags while Mom leads us up the stairs and into the house. There are fresh flower arrangements on every available surface, the furniture gleaming with candles burning everywhere. My father exits his study, coming to a stop when he sees me and a smile stretches across his face as he approaches.
“Son.” He pulls me into his arms for a quick hug. “Glad to see you come home for once willingly.”
I grimace. He chuckles. Always giving me endless shit.
“Dad, this is Sinclair.” I step aside so he can see her and I don’t even hesitate when I add, “My girlfriend.”
Sin’s eyes go wide but otherwise she doesn’t react to my statement. Her smile is polite and she dips her head. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lancaster.”
“Nice to meet you, too. And call me Whit.”
They shake hands, Dad sending me a quick look of approval.
We make small talk as we move through the house, Mom pointing out the various rooms to a curious Sinclair. When Mom offers to show Sinclair the guest bedroom, they both go, leaving me alone with my father.
“She’s an attractive girl,” is the first thing he says once they’re gone.
We enter his study, me sitting in one of the large leather chairs while dear old Dad makes us each a drink.
“I’m going to marry her,” I declare, knowing he’s the only one I can say something like that to and he won’t overreact.
Mom? She’d have the wedding planner on speed dial and would be asking us for dates.
Iris? She’d let everyone know we were engaged before I could even slip the ring on Sin’s finger.
My father? He barely reacts as he hands me a glass of brown liquid that I know just from the scent that it’s bourbon.
“Does she know this?” he asks once he settles in the chair across from mine, taking a sip of his drink.
“Not yet.” I take a sip as well, wincing at the strong taste. It goes down easy though. Nice and smooth. “But she will.”
“She’s young. Your mother told me she’s only eighteen.”
“She’ll turn nineteen in January.” Sinclair is incredibly young. When I was eighteen, I was a fucking wreck who wanted zero responsibilities. And here I am, ready to spring marriage on her. I’m rushing things but damn. Every family member who said it happens fast was right. I know she’s the one for me.
The only one.
“A baby,” my father murmurs, staring into his glass. “We were babies too, your mother and I.”
“I know.”
“And look at us.” He lifts his head, his gaze hazy. Making me think he’s consumed with memories. “We’ve been married a long time and we’re still happy.”
“Are you?” When he frowns, I continue. “You’re truly happy with Mom? Nothing bad has happened between the two of you? You’re not sick of each other?”
That’s always the fear for me. Commitment is a lifelong thing. There’s not much divorce throughout my family. I could never imagine wanting to be with someone forever until recently.
“Plenty bad has happened over the years. You can’t form a life with someone and not have the occasional tragedy occur. Deaths in the family. Scandal. Drama. It’s all part of life, son. Your mother and I have arguments. We get irritated with each other. I hate how damn cheerful she is in the morning and the woman doesn’t even drink coffee. And I drive her crazy with how I’m an asshole all the time for no real reason.”
Sounds familiar.
“We’ve dealt with familial issues. Sometimes we don’t always agree on things, but we know how to compromise. Our love for each other is too strong to just give up,” he explains. “Life isn’t perfect but it’s ours and what we share is enough. More than enough. I’m a lucky man.”
The reverence in his tone for my mother is sincere. When I was younger their love overwhelmed me. All the stories and family lore made it seem like they were completely obsessed and I’m guessing they were and still are. I didn’t like the idea of being so caught up in someone that you can’t think about anything else.
And now here I am, living it. Caught up in Sinclair to the point that I know she’s going to be my wife. Maybe not right away, but eventually. I can be patient.
Somewhat.
“Can I give you some advice?” Dad asks after a few quiet minutes.
“Sure.” Will it be something I want to hear or what he thinks I should hear?
“Don’t rush it. She’s going nowhere, but if you push her too hard, she might run away and then you’ll have to chase her.” He frowns, lost in his memories, no doubt. “There’s nothing worse than having the love of your life hide from you because she’s—scared. Don’t let that happen to you and this girl. Don’t scare her.”
“I would never,” I scoff, offended.
The look my father sends my way is a very obvious come on . “You’re just like me, August. And we can be…intimidating.”
“So don’t intimidate her. Got it.” I nod once, already bored. My Sin gets off on me intimidating her. It’s her favorite thing. I won’t scare her. This is a woman who stands up to me every single time.
We’ll be fine.