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"Trouble," I reply, my stomach knotting. "We need to talk. It's about Liam. He’s here."
Her body tenses, the name conjuring demons in the dim light of pre-dawn. "Liam? Here?" Disbelief etches her features before they harden like setting concrete.
Lastly, it's Lola's turn. Her innocence always seemed to shield her, but not today. Not now. Her eyes flutter open, confusion giving way to alarm. "Tony?" she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.
"Get dressed," I say curtly. "We have an... issue. Liam's back."
"What? Back?" Lola repeats, the word strange and incongruous as she absorbs the gravity of the situation, then, comprehension dawns, sharp and unwelcome as she fully wakes up, "Oh no . . . "
I lead them all downstairs, the silence between us heavy. Each step echoes like a verdict, and the air grows colder as we approach the living room where Liam now awaits, an unwelcome specter at the break of day.
It’s been forty-five minutes of back and forths with no solution in sight. The tension in the room crackles like a live wire, and it's palpable enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but we all can’t seem to agree on anything. I rub at them,trying to soothe the prickling sensation, but it's no use. Dick feels very strongly that Liam should make alternative arrangements.
"We can't turn him away," I announce, with more certainty than I feel. “We don’t have the right. This is his house. We are the guests here.”
Lola’s face tightens, her lips pursing into a thin line.
"But what are we supposed to do with Mom?" Her voice is strained, fear edging every word. “She will know we have been lying to her the whole time.”
Liam interjects quickly, “She need not know. I will stay out of sight the whole time she is up.”
Dick rounds on Liam, his broad shoulders like coiled springs, ready to unleash fury. "You don’t have a say in this matter. This is a Ricardo problem, and you are not one of us. You are a Dexter. You keep your fucking mouth shut."
"Enough, Dick." My voice comes out sharper than intended, a blade unsheathed. "Let's all try and be civil here."
"Civil? Toward him?" Dick spits the words out, contempt clear in his eyes.
Jenny, ever the mediator, steps forward, hands raised. "Look, guys. Mom will be up soon. We can throw darts at each other later but we need to come up with a solution quick."
"Maybe we should all just go back home with Mom," Lola suggests, a desperate edge to her voice. She clutches at her own arms as if holding herself together as if she is afraid she will fall apart soon if no resolution is reached. "Mom's still in remission, Tony, right? I know she hasn't been feeling great, but she is still in remission, right?"
"Yes," I reply, trying to swallow down the bitter taste of worry in my mouth. The simple word carries a weight far heavier than its three letters should allow.
"Then there you have it. We can all go home," Lola concludes, almost pleading now.
I shake my head, my gaze meeting each of theirs in turn. "I don’t think that's a good idea right now, Lols. I don't like some of her labs."
Jenny’s brow furrows, her concern a living thing between us. "What are you saying, T? Is the cancer coming back?"
"No," I start, and I wonder how much truth lies in my own assurances, "but I’d be happier if Mom stayed here till her numbers get better and stable."
"Stable," echoes Dick, the word wrapped in sarcasm. He turns to Liam with an accusatory glare. "Liam here is a billionaire. Why can't he go to a hotel? At this point, I am willing to sell my house to pay for it if he is too cheap to do it himself."
"Dick, please," I say, exhausted by the back and forth, the hostility, the fear. "This cantankerous attitude is not helping anybody."
"Your constantly falling on the side of our father's killer over us is getting old and annoying," Dick snaps, his anger a living flame.
That's when Liam breaks.
"That's it. I’ve had enough. This isMYhouse. You are all here because I allow it. Whether you like it or not, you are all here as my 'guests.' You stay here at my wish. I don’t have to ask you for permission to occupy my house. I am tired, I am cold, and I am sleep-deprived."
A shudder racks his frame, but his eyes burn with a fire that belies his weary state.
"You are all welcome to stay or go as you please, but I will not tolerate disrespect in my own house. If you don't like it, pack up your bags and leave."
I watch Liam get up and stalk past us toward the stairs, each step deliberate, marking his territory, asserting control in a situation quickly spiraling out of it.
His words hang in the air long after he is gone, heavy with finality, and I find myself caught in the middle—between my family's pain and the practicality of necessity. Mom needs to be here for at least a few more weeks.
