Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
SINCLAIR
T here’s a knock on my door and I assume it’s August coming to fetch me. I’ve taken far too long to get ready and make sure I look the part of August Lancaster’s girlfriend—it’s hard for me to believe that he actually thinks of me as his girlfriend—because I’m nervous. And anxious—terribly anxious. I don’t want my parents to act tacky, AKA like their usual selves, and ruin the evening. I’m desperate to make a good impression.
This is the most nerve-wracking night of my life, and I’ve lived through some harrowing moments since I first met August. He’s put me through it. I’ve put myself through it too because despite it all, I’m forever drawn to him. To finally have the confirmation that he feels the same way is a relief. An absolute thrill. He cares about me. He said he was in love with me.
What is this life?
Opening the door, I’m about to say something, but I snap my lips shut when I see who it is.
August’s mom.
“Hi, Sinclair.” Her smile is gentle, as is her entire demeanor. Her calm vibe seems to permeate the room every time she enters it. She has this soothing effect on her entire family and I like that about her. Probably because I find she calms me too. “I was hoping you were still in here.”
“Hi.” I stand there clutching the door handle feeling awkward. I really need to learn how to relax. My worry over tonight could make everything worse. “Am I running late? Are my parents here?” I assumed Mom would text me the second they pulled through the gates. But maybe not.
“No, not yet. May I come in?”
“Of course.” I open the door wider, taking Summer Lancaster in as she enters the room. She’s effortlessly elegant in her simple black dress, her dark hair cascading down her back in soft waves. You’d never believe she’s the mom of three and that her youngest child is in high school. I can only hope I look that good when I’m a mom.
I shut the door and turn to watch as she settles into the pale blue velvet chair in front of the small desk in the room. She aims a friendly smile in my direction and I automatically smile in return. “You’re nervous.”
There’s no point in denying it. “I am.” I even wring my hands together, letting it all hang out since she called me on it. “Tonight feels like a big deal.”
“I can’t lie—it is a big deal. August doesn’t bring just anyone home. My son…he’s always been such a private person, rarely allowing someone into his life. He likes to think he doesn’t need anyone, which reminds me of his father.” Her gaze settles on my face and it feels like she’s trying to examine me, see through my skin and bones, into my brain. “You must be a special person in order for August to bring you here for the weekend and introduce you to all of us.”
Swallowing hard, I scramble to come up with the right thing to say. “I care about August. A lot.”
“I can tell. And he cares about you too. I like watching the two of you together.” Her smile fades the slightest bit. “I know how…difficult August can be sometimes. He’s very much like his father, and when I first met Whit, our interactions were unconventional, to say the least. Neither of them are good at expressing their feelings.”
The biggest understatement of the year. “August has mentioned to me before that he’s a lot like his father.”
A sigh leaves Summer and she shakes her head. “I’d hoped my firstborn wouldn’t be like that, because I always believed Whit’s behavior stemmed from being raised by two neglectful parents. I did everything in my power to ensure that our children never felt like we didn’t care, and August still ended up acting just like his father. I suppose genetics are difficult to change.”
“I suppose so,” I agree, unsure of what else I can say.
“I just wanted you to know that it takes a special person to handle these Lancaster men, and I appreciate you—caring about my son.” Summer sniffs and even dabs at the corners of her eyes, like she might be crying? “I’ve worried about him and how closed off he can be for years. And now he’s found you and I don’t have to worry any longer.” She laughs before I can respond, sniffing loudly. “I didn’t mean to become so emotional.”
“It’s okay.” I smile at her and she smiles back.
“You’re a nice girl, Sinclair. And don’t worry about tonight.” She stands, smoothing out the skirt of her dress. “Everything is going to be just fine.”
We enter the room together, Summer going to her husband who’s currently standing behind the bar and making everyone drinks. I scan the room, my gaze landing on August who’s sitting on the couch with baby Astrid in his arms.
Something tugs at me deep, watching him smile down at his niece, who reaches for his nose and tries to grasp it in her little fingers. Iris is sitting next to them and bursts out laughing, making some comment about how her baby is getting back at Uncle Augie, but he ignores her. Instead, he pries the baby’s fingers from his nose and she wraps her fingers around one of his, making a cooing noise at her uncle.
My heart melts at the scene. He calls her a monster and a beast, but I see the genuine affection he has for her. I’m about to make my way over to him when my phone buzzes in my hand. I check it to see a text from my mom.
We’re here!!!!
Oh God.
“Sin.” August’s voice makes me look up from the phone. “Come hold the monster with me.”
“You really need to stop calling her that,” his sister chastises with a scowl. “Look at her. She’s a precious little baby!”
“Who’s an absolute beast. Did you see the way she grabbed my nose?” He makes a tsking noise but I can tell he’s joking. “She’s a Lancaster through and through.”
“Hey. I had something to do with making her,” Brooks protests from where he’s standing by the bar.
“Don’t remind me,” August mutters, his gaze only for me as I make my way to the couch, sitting on the other side of him. “Want to hold her?”
Before I can answer he’s dumping the baby in my arms and I wrap them around the squirming baby tight, worried she could slip right out of my hold and wouldn’t that be awful? I’m also concerned she might take one look at me and start bawling.
But she doesn’t do any of that. Astrid stares at me, waving her arm up and down and I take in her dainty features, those bright blue eyes that remind me of August’s. I touch her button nose, which makes her smile .
“She likes you,” August murmurs and I lift my head to find him watching me carefully. “And she doesn’t like just anybody.”
“Oh, come on.” I dip my head, smiling down at Astrid who offers me a toothless grin. “She’s a sweetheart. I’m sure she loves everyone.”
“No. She’s picky and rude, just like her uncle,” Iris informs me. “You must have a magic touch.”
“She does,” August readily agrees, making me laugh while his sister groans.
“I do not need to hear about your weird sexual fetishes, Augie,” Iris warns, her voice a little too loud.
“Why do you always have to take it there.” August sounds exasperated but I ignore their little argument, focusing on the baby in my arms. She shifts her weight around, wiggling in my embrace, and I give her a gentle poke in her stomach.
Astrid is adorable. Someday, I’d love to have a baby. Maybe even a couple of them, but that’s a long way off.
Like…a loooooooong way.
I hear the doorbell ring and my heart drops into my stomach, nerves eating at it like tiny nibbling fish. The moment I’ve been waiting for and dreading all at once. Iris swoops in and plucks Astrid from my arms and I shoot to my feet, shaking out my now sweaty hands. “They’re here.”
August stands, slipping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in so he can softly kiss my forehead. “Relax. It’s going to be all right.”
“Your mom said the same thing.”
He frowns down at me. “When did you talk to her?”
“Earlier. Before we came downstairs.” I square my shoulders, his arm falling away as I put on a brave face. “Please pray to baby Jesus that my parents won’t say or do something that causes all of us to get kicked out of the house, okay?”
“That won’t happen.” He takes my hand, and I get the feeling he’s trying to present as a united front. Which I appreciate more than he’ll ever know. I need him by my side to get through this night. “Love your dress, Sin. You look good enough to eat.”
My face goes hot. The dress is a deep green with a simple design, with long sleeves and a short skirt that I paired with knee-length black leather boots. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be taking it off later tonight.” He nuzzles the side of my face with his nose, and I dip my head closer to his. “Though you can keep the boots on.”
“Stop.” My protest is weak and I rest my hand on the solid wall that is his chest. “My parents will be here any second.”
“I’m trying to distract you.” He pulls away slightly, concern all over his face. “You’re worried.”
“They’re a menace. The two of them.” I drop my hand from his chest, but he grabs it, lacing our fingers together.
“They can’t be that bad…can they?”
My parents enter the room before I can respond, escorted by one of the servants who works at the house. My mom is bug-eyed as she takes everything in, her head tilted back and I swear I can see her calculating the value of everything in her brain and she’s stumped because she can’t count that high.
I knew she’d react this way. My dad heads straight for the bar, enthusiastically shaking Whit’s hand and practically screaming that he’s so glad to meet him. I can’t even look in their direction. Can only imagine Whit’s reaction to my father and when I glance over at my mom, she’s got a big smile on her face, her gaze landing on me standing beside August, our hands still linked.
I squeeze his hand and let it go as she stops directly in front of me, an actual squeal leaving her.
“Sinclair! My God, aren’t you a sight? Look at you! I love the boots! Are they made by Frye?” She yanks me into her arms, hugging me fiercely, her mouth at my ear as she murmurs, “This house is huge . ”
“Hi, Mom. My boots are Steve Madden and half the price.” I return the hug, disentangling myself from her so I can stand at August’s side once more. “Looks like you made it here okay.”
“Oh, we did. The drive was a little long but the scenery was nice. Your father drove too fast though. He had to bring the Porsche. Wanted to make sure the Lancasters are duly impressed.” Mom swivels her attention to August, her smile wide. “You must be August Lancaster. I’m Jennifer.”
He shakes my mother’s hand, a polite smile on his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Oh my, you are handsome.” Mom rests her hand against her chest, blatantly taking him in. “When Sinclair told me she was dating you, I found it hard to believe, especially after I did a little googling. What would a man like you see in my daughter?”
I blink at her, stunned she would say such a thing. “Mom. I’m standing right here.”
She laughs, the sound extra loud in the hushed quiet of the room. Even Dad has subdued but maybe that’s because he’s downing the drink Whit just made for him. “You know what I mean, honey. Let’s be real. He's a Lancaster.”
I know what she’s implying, even though she doesn’t say it out loud. The Lancaster family is filthy rich and of a class of their own. What would August see in me?
Everything revolves around money for her. For my dad too, though Mom is worse. She won’t stop shopping. Won’t stop feeding that empty spot inside her that only seems to grow more and more as each year passes. Dad has affairs and buys expensive cars. Mom shops constantly and converts every room she can into a closet.
“Your daughter isn’t with me because of my family’s money.” August’s voice is calm, but I can hear the slight edge to it. The man is pissed. “She didn’t even like me at first. ”
“Oh come on, Sinclair! You didn’t like him? Look at him!” Mom waves a hand in August’s direction. “What’s not to like.”
I try to smile at her but it’s impossible. I don’t bother responding to her either. What’s the point? She doesn’t recall the fact that he bullied me in high school and I don’t want to remind her. She might start insulting me even more and that’s the last thing I want to deal with.
“Your house is beautiful.” Mom glances over at Summer, who stops to stand with us. “Thank you for inviting us for dinner.”
“We thought it was only proper to have you over as well as your lovely daughter.” Summer sends me a sweet smile. “We’re just glad to have you all together tonight. Sinclair obviously makes my son very happy.”
“Well, isn’t that nice? I suppose I trained her well.” Mom snort laughs and I want to die. “Are you going to make my daughter an honest woman or what?” Mom asks August, who doesn’t react at all to her bold question while I’m already wishing I could curl up into a tiny ball and disappear.
“Mom. I’m only eighteen,” I remind her through clenched teeth.
“You’re an adult. You can get married. Probably would be smart on your part to do it right away.” And with that statement, she wanders away from us, her gaze greedily scanning the room. Summer follows after her, engaging her in conversation, and I’m grateful that August’s mom is trying. If she was smart, she’d give up now because my mom…
Is a hopeless cause.
I share a look with August, who seems completely unaffected by that humiliating conversation.
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive her,” I whisper and he grabs my hand, giving it a quick squeeze before he brings our linked hands up to his mouth. He presses a soft kiss to my knuckles before letting it go .
“Don’t worry about her. It’s fine. She’s fine.”
But she’s not fine. She’s like this for the next thirty minutes as August’s father makes us all drinks and a servant brings out a couple of trays covered in a variety of appetizers. Mom downs the vodka sodas Whit keeps making her and shovels the appetizers in her mouth, talking nonstop to Summer, while Whit asks my father questions about the infamous Jock Rot. Dad goes into intricate detail about the rise and fall of his business, Whit sneering with faint disgust when he describes the symptoms of jock rot, not that I can blame him. It’s disgusting, but my father talks about it with absolute glee. It’s become such a part of his life that he doesn’t recognize how gross it is to anyone else.
All I can do is sit in misery with August, who’s observing everything with that narrowed gaze of his. The one that tells me he’s judging everything they’re doing and saying, not that I’m surprised. Iris and Brooks are wrapped up in the baby, trying to get her to calm down when she starts to fuss. Mom doesn’t even acknowledge them, only when they leave the room does she say something.
“Who’s the baby?”
“That’s my niece,” August answers, his voice smooth. “My sister’s daughter.”
“Oh right. I saw you had a sister.” That’s all she says, ditching us, including Summer, so she can wander around the room again, examining every detail. “How much was this?” Mom pats the back of an overstuffed chair and I wither at how vulgar she’s acting, asking about the price of the furniture. I want to die every time she opens her mouth and I don’t know how many times August has squeezed my hand in reassurance, but it’s a lot.
By the time we’ve moved into the formal dining room for dinner, I ask for an alcoholic beverage—any kind of beverage, as long as it has liquor in it, because I know it’s going to be a long night.
“You probably shouldn’t have a drink,” Mom tells me from where she’s seated directly across from me. I can barely see her thanks to the abundant flower arrangement sitting on the table between us. “You’re only eighteen.”
Like I don’t remember how old I am. “I’m not going anywhere so I’ll be fine.” I smile up at the server who’s taking our drink requests. “Thank you.”
He moves on and Mom leans over the table, her gaze fiery when it lands on me. “Sinclair, what in the world is wrong with you?”
I glance around to make sure no one is paying us any attention before I answer her. “Nothing. What’s your problem?”
Oh God, I sound like I’m fifteen and fighting with my mom about the length of my skirt or whatever. Why do I always revert to that version of me when we argue?
“What’s my problem? First of all, you’re not twenty-one, meaning it’s illegal for you to drink. Second, you are defying my wishes, and since you seem to have forgotten, I am your mother .” She lifts her chin, trying to stare down her nose at me and failing miserably. “And you shall do what I say.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re being?—"
“Do we have a problem here?”
I go still at the tone of August’s voice, taking a deep breath before I turn to look at him. “It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t sound fine,” he practically snaps, glancing over at my mother. “Why are you yelling at Sinclair again?”
“I’m her mother. I can yell at her if I want to.” Mom sounds indignant. And she’s treating me like a child when I’m an adult who doesn’t even live with her anymore.
“You’re in a stranger’s house, sitting at their table and about to eat dinner. If I were you, I’d tone it down a little,” August says to her .
The look on my mother’s face has me wanting to slide under the table. I’d sort of forgotten that look, but it all comes back to me now. Whenever I’d talk back to her—which wasn’t often—she’d fume. Her lips would thin and her nostrils would flare and it’s happening right now. She’s fuming mad at my—what do I call him? My boyfriend? My lover? Oh, that one would send her straight off the rails.
“And who are you to tell me how to treat my child?” Mom throws at him.
He stares at her for a moment, the entire table going quiet, and I hold my breath, dreading his answer. Almost looking forward to it too because I’ve never seen anyone talk to my mother like this before.
I kind of like it.
“Who am I? I am the man who’s going to marry your daughter one day, so watch how you speak to her.” He glares at her. “Got it?”
Oh God.