SWNOVELS Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Brooklyn
Aden was smart to butter me up with a new horse.
Because now, as I sit in the back seat of the black car, all by myself, I look up at the stone mansion in front of me and grimace.
I am not looking forward to this. Dinner with my father, the man I barely knew existed.
The man I'm not sure I like very much at all, and who isn't sure he trusts me in return.
I know that there should probably be some curiosity in me, some desire to know more about my family and my heritage.
But honestly? Lennox Remington doesn't feel anything like my father. That, to me, will always be Stephen.
Aden sent two guards along with me and instructed them to stay by me at all times.
For protection, presumably. But also-I think-to be Aden's eyes and ears at the meeting.
Remington is his ally, but even the term "ally" in this underworld has some tenuous distrust built into it.
I begged Hudson to come with me, but Aden denied that, too.
Remington, apparently, wanted me all to himself.
Great. I was already feeling uncomfortable enough about this whole situation. But now, to go into it alone? This was definitely going to be a disaster.
The guards get out of the front of the car after they park and come around to open my door.
I step out and sigh, wishing I was anywhere else. The stables, preferably, getting to know Heathcliff.
The three of us troupe up the front steps to the house and ring the bell.
I twist my mouth at the irony here. If he's my dad, if this is my house, shouldn't I be able to walk right in?
A maid opens the door, giving us a kind smile before pulling the door all the way open in welcome.
As we step in, I stop dead in my tracks. The guards almost bump into me.
"Are you okay?" one asks. Joshua, I think. One of the friendlier guards in Aden's employ.
"Yes," I murmur in response, staring around the room.
But in reality? I'm totally not okay.
Walking into this house is like walking into a dream. I've been here before, I suddenly realize. I know things about this space...
What's around some of the corners, what things will feel like, what it smells like.
Even the rugs are familiar. A soft burnt orange, thick and plush underneath my feet. The arch that leads into the dining room... Yes, I know that. And if I look just beyond it I'll find...
Yes, there. A hutch, filled with blue and white china.
"Oh my god," I whisper, looking around as I slowly walk through the dining room.
The maid hesitates. "Dinner isn't ready yet, miss," she says. "If you'll come with me to the sitting room..."
I ignore her. I don't mean to be rude, but... I can't help myself as I walk to the back of the room and push open the door to the kitchen. The avocado-green fridge and stove are exactly as I remember them. Except, I didn't know that I did remember them.
I hear footsteps behind me.
"Familiar, is it?"
Remington is standing behind me in the kitchen. I search his face, wide-eyed, not sure what to say.
He looks around at the kitchen, as if lost in his memories.
"We couldn't keep you out of here," he says. "Your mother, the maids, or me. You always wanted to come
in and pull out all of the pots and pans. Bang on them, or pretend you were cooking."
I stare at him, bewildered. I was five when we went to live with Stephen; I should have had a few core memories here.
Now, it was flooding back... But why had it gone missing for so long?
Remington indulges me for a moment and then nods back towards the living room.
"Come," he says. "I want to introduce you."
I follow, my gaze still darting around the house.
My house, where I lived as a small child.
As I consider it, I realize that they are not unhappy memories. I have no feelings of fear or trauma attached to this place.
That must be a good thing, right?
Remington leads me into the sitting room, my guards following closely behind. When we enter, I'm surprised to see a woman sitting there with a boy at her side and a baby in her lap.
"Brooklyn," Remington says, putting out a hand to me. "I'd like to introduce you to Louisa, my wife."
I blink at the woman, surprised. Why had no one mentioned to me that my father had remarried? "How-how do you do?" I ask, fumbling over the words.
She doesn't reply, simply giving me a cold look. She's a beautiful woman, petite, with dark hair and large hazel eyes. Her full pink lips are pursed with dislike.
"And this," Remington says, gesturing towards the children, "is my son Logan and my daughter Isa. Your...ah. Your half-siblings."
He runs a hand awkwardly through his hair.
I smile at Logan, who looks up at me with excited eyes.
He's the picture of his mother, really. Dark hair, delicate pale skin, pretty hazel eyes. The baby is also very sweet, smiling up at me in her white bonnet.
As I look at the three of them, I can tell that Louisa has dressed them in pale green to match her own outfit.
The green accents on Remington's suit suggest that he's part of their group as well. I look down at myself, dressed in sapphire blue.
Perhaps she's sending me a message about exactly who belongs in this family.
"Welcome," Louisa says, her voice cold. She looks me up and down with distaste. I sigh, seeing that this isn't going to be an easy road.