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Although I did make some effort, as I’m wearing a pair of deep red pants, rolled at the ankles, white tennis shoes, a white shirt, and a beige scarf. Stylish yet me. See? I’m not a complete scoundrel. I could have rocked up in sweats and a dip-stained tee.
“Master Clearwater,” someone greets, drawing my attention toward the open doorway, where a butler in a penguin suit stands. “My name is Frederick. I am the house manager here at Clearwater Manor. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Okay, well, the dude must need the steel rod up his ass removed because his pinched expression is at odds with his formal words.
“If you’ll please come inside, Sir Edward Samuel Gregory will be with you shortly.”
Sir Edward Samuel Gregory? Seriously? Talk about a mouthful. I can only assume he’s referring to my grandfather.Who the fuck makes people call them by all three of their names?I can already tell he’s as pretentious as his name.
With nothing else for it, I step past Frederick into the expansive foyer. He directs me to a sitting room that looks like it has never been used—seriously, there isn’t even a butt indentation in the couch cushions or a single thing out of place—and tells me to wait for my grandfather.
The second he leaves me alone, I drop onto the sofa, giving my ass a good wiggle to ensure it gets in there nice and deep before I stand. Turning, I grin down at the perfectly imperfect butt impression before surveying the rest of the room.
There is a stack of magazines on the coffee table that I bet has never even been flipped through. As I walk past them, my finger brushes against them, accidentally skewing the stack.Oopsies.
After rearranging several decorative cushions, I feel more at peace. I dislike order. Especially when everything is set up to appear flawless, as if whoever lives in this house has never made a mistake in their lives. As if they don’t shit and bleed like the rest of us.
All of this perfection only screams that they have something to hide. It makes me distrustful, suspicious. I was already wary before stepping into this sterile house. As much as I want to meet and get to know my family and, ideally, find a place where I belong while hopefully coming to understand why I am the way I am, I’m not an idiot. And I won’t be taken for one. I’m not so goddamn desperate for a family that I’ll give up everything to become one of them. I’ve already crossed uncrossable lines.
At the time, my hatred for Emilia blinded me, providing the justification I was searching for. Nonetheless, that reasoning is slowly becoming murkier by the day. I started down this path because I believed there was no longer a place for me with Hadley, Hawk, and the others; since Emilia made me feel that way.
Although, if I’m being blatantly honest with myself, that’s not exactly true. I’ve always been sitting on the outskirts. Hadley has the guys, Hawk is her brother, and then there’s me. Not connected to them in any way other than the fact that I decided to hang around after high school ended.
I guess I was just searching for something more stable. Something more secure than the thin threads that tie me to their family, since that is exactly what they are. The six of them are a family, and I’m the weird uncle who visits for Christmas, clogs the toilet, eats all the food, then just never fucking leaves.
I’mthatfriend. The one you reluctantly put up with because you have no other choice. The pathetic one you take under your wing because where the fuck else is he going to go? And no halfway nice person kicks a sad little puppy out into the snow.
Maybe I blamed Emilia initially, and perhaps she’s the reason I finally found the balls to actually make an effort to reach out to my family. Still, she’s not the sole reason why I’m standing in this creepy-ass immaculate house. I’ve known Robbie since freshman year, yet I never really asked him about the rest of the line. There was the odd question, but I never asked to meet them. Never enquired about who they were or if I had any other cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, or uncles.
I didn’t care to know until Emilia stepped back into my universe, and the King’s Elite gave me the out I was hoping for to escape her.
Maybe I still don’t care to know where I come from.
Although, one thing I have come to realize is that Idowant to be part of a family. Arealfamily. I don’t want to be the weird uncle you can’t get rid of. I want to be an integral piece.
And I don’t know if that is with Hadley, Hawk, and the others. I don’t know if it includes Emilia or if my place truly is here, with these clean freaks.
Wherever it is though, I want to find it.
The sound of a throat clearing has me turning toward the doorway. Frederick’s astute gaze takes in the havoc I’ve wreaked with a frown. "Master Clearwater, Sir Edward Samuel Gregory will see you now."
He gestures for me to follow him.
"My name is Wilder," I inform him as he leads me through the house. "Not Master Clearwater." I even squeeze my buttcheeks, pretending I have a pole shoved up there, so I can flawlessly imitate his uptight tone.
Despite my superior acting abilities, his not-so-subtle wry side-eye implies he’s not impressed with my impression.Huh, tough crowd.
I shrug it off, and apparently not a fan of conversation, we continue in stilted silence. I’m expecting him to direct me to my grandfather’s office, so when he opens the doors to a bright solarium, I’m taken by surprise.
The sun streams in through the glass ceiling and large windows, giving the room a warm and welcoming feel that contrasts with the sterile waiting room.
“Well, come here, boy. Let me get a look at you,” a deep, croaky voice cracks through the room.
Squinting through the sunlight, I spot the older gentleman walking steadily toward me. Assuming this is my grandfather, my eyes run over him, taking in his tall, solid frame and his mostly gray hair that is interspersed with the occasional darker strand, hinting at his youthfulness. His time-worn face is creased with wrinkles, and peering back at me are shrewd eyes that look like they belong to a man twenty years younger.
Despite his aging body, I can tell without even having a conversation with him that his mind is still sharp as a tack. He assesses me with keen scrutiny, giving nothing away. However, knowing that he’s ancient and roams around this giant house in a full suit as though he just got home from a day at the office, and with my casual attire, I’m guessing I’ve already failed to meet his expectations.
Not that I was necessarily aiming to meet them, but it’s always good to know where you stand.
