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I don’t have the energy to argue about any of this though, so I’ll bide my time until I’m clear on what I want to do.
After excusing myself to the plane’s en suite, I wash up and change—so I don’t look like I’ve been on a midnight heist when my parents see me—and return to my seat. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes to all of it, listening to the soothing rhythm of Liam snicking his Zippo open and shut over and over again.
I meant what I said to him the other day. I love him. So much. And I want the big family of misfits living in that grand French chateau together. I want it all—the chaos and the laughter. All of us raising kids together. Family meetings and game nights and meals with nonstop banter. It’s worth the risks.
My head is still a mess of indecision though. I want to be good to all the people I love. That’s what Ben would want. It’s what I’ve always strived to do. But I’ve never felt a greater weight.
The weight of it all doesn’t lessen when the plane touches down. Or when we climb into the car. Or when Liam force-feeds me lunch. And certainly not when he opens the door, guides me out onto the brick driveway, and tugs me up the walkway to my front porch.
And certainly not when my mother answers instead of our housekeeper.
She’s stunning, as always.
Her dark hair falls around her heart-shaped face in large, soft curls. Her olive skin shines, untouched by time. And her chocolate eyes shimmer, like they hold secrets that she’s confident everyone wishes they knew.
There’s a reason Ava Fiore crawled out from nothing and landed Frank Carver—the son of a beloved senator, brother of a war hero, millionaire home-developer mogul. Or cemetery designer. Depending on how you look at it.
She’s smart. Confident. Cunning. About as pretty as they come.
And I’ve never seen her answer her own door.
She lurches for me in an uncharacteristic, dramatic move, tugging me into her embrace as she boldly instructs the men, “Go on inside, gentlemen.”
Rex and Gage do, but Liam remains stubbornly by my side. My mother stiffens when she realizes, no doubt irritated that Liam deems himself above her order.
This should be fun. Smooth.
In truth, him remaining by my side makes me feel proud. And I think if my mother thought about it, she’d feel the same. Maybe it isn’t the path she hoped I’d take, but how could anyone not celebrate the fact that I have a man who wants nothing more than for me to be me and refuses to leave my side? And not because it’s an expectation he needs to fulfill, but because he loves me too much to walk away.
Regardless of the shitstorm that is my current situation, I can’t be mad at that. In fact, I’m downright giddy at the sight, giggling to myself—which is admittedly an odd reaction, but I’m spent. Liam catches my gaze and winks. He gets me. I’m not sure my mother appreciates the beauty of the moment like we do though.
When she pulls back, her eyes are glistening, roving all over my face and body, hand caressing my cheek, like she needs to verify that I’m in one piece. “You look tired. A little thin too, but not hurt. I’ve been worried sick, Cee.”
My shoulders roll back, chin held high as she releases me. “I’m so sorry, Mom. Rex and Gage told me they assured you I was fine. I am tired. Jet-lagged. But I’ve been working out with Gage, so I’m actually stronger.”
She hums lightly, dismissing my rebuttal for whatever reason and turning toward the door as Liam wisely opens it for us. I can’t breathe. But her scrutiny is nothing compared to the stony glare of my father, who is waiting in the foyer. He sweeps me into a hug, swallowing me inside his sturdy arms.
He seemed mad upon my first glimpse of him, but the hug feels pained, as does the stilted exhale that follows. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I crane my neck to see regret washing over him. “For what?”
He shakes his head, refusing to answer, and gives me one last squeeze.
When he lets me go, Liam steps forward, one hand gliding over the small of my back as he sticks out the other to shake my father’s. “It’s nice to see you again, Frank.” After my father takes his hand, Liam glances at my mom, adding, “I appreciate you and Ava welcoming Gage and me into your home. There is no one more important to me than Celeste. I know Wells has conveyed this to you in the past, but it bears repeating. She’s incredibly important to all of us.”
That softens my mom a bit, maybe because of the starry look that is most definitely overtaking my eyes. Politeness isn’t exactly what comes to mind when I think of Liam. Nor is being a man who makes formal declarations to a parent.
“Well, we appreciate you bringing her home,” my father replies, releasing his hand and swinging his scrutinizing leer between the two of us.
Liam is trying, but the tension is still thick. Perhaps that’s why he throws caution to the wind and goes for it. “If you wouldn’t mind, Frank, I thought Celeste could catch up with her mom and you and I could speak privately.”
“Of course,” my father responds, intrigue written across his features, which probably mirrors mine. “We’ll go to my office and have a drink. Rex and Gage went to the parlor room. We’ll join them after.”
Liam kisses my temple with a whispered, “Deep breaths, Ace,” and disappears with my father.
Before I can fret about what that conversation may entail and intervene, my mother clasps my hand, towing me into the kitchen.
There are already snacks laid out in a pretty display on the island—veggies and dips, crackers and cheese, macaroni salad, and cookies and pastries—so she ushers me onto a stool and promptly makes me a plate.
