by K A Sands
“Yeah, how’d you guess?”
“Oh, it had your name written all over it, Lucca. What the fuck you gonna do with five bedrooms, mate?”
“Gym, office, Ayden. You.”
He snorted down the phone. “Yeah, all right then. When’s viewing?”
“First week in January. That cool for you?”
“Sure, I’ll make it a priority.”
I heard someone giggle, a female more specifically, in the background and a muffled ‘ssshh...’
“You at Taylor’s?”
It was weird getting used to her name, I hadn’t officially met her yet. I guessed both would come in time the more she was around. Ryder was in this for the long haul, when he was ready, I’m sure we’d all get together.
“Spending Christmas here. I’ve been a very good boy...” Another background giggle, “Santa’s coming.” I grinned, Ryder always had an innuendo or two, he was like a kid half the time. “You at home?”
I hoisted up from my desk and ambled over to the window, stretching my back as I went. I’d been sitting a few hours and forgot how stiff it made me. My gym time had significantly reduced the older I got, not being able to keep up anymore.
“Yeah, going through paperwork. Need to figure out what Stella wants to do with this fucking house. Ayden doesn’t care.” I squinted out the window wistfully, dejection pulling over me as I watched the icy rain pelt the wooden decking and patio below.
“You care, bud? About the house, I mean?” he asked.
“More sour memories than pleasant here.”
What had started out as the perfect family home, had turned into a prison. A place where Ayden and I were trapped under a woman who had no care to set us free. A woman who needed to control and to compound our suffering, to thrive herself.
“Then leave it, let her have it. Gives her less to fight you over.”
He had a point I couldn’t argue. “Yeah...”
“You find anywhere for Ayden?”
“I haven’t talked to him yet.” I moved back to my desk, thumbing through the property listings. “I did see a place though, a loft...” The loft was perfect and if he did decide to come down, I wanted him somewhere safe.
My office door swung open and I snapped my head up sharply, guessing who’d come in. Ayden wasn’t rude, he knocked. Stella didn’t, she had no qualms strolling into places unannounced or uninvited.
“Hey, I’ve got to go. Speak to you tomorrow, yeah?” I didn’t wait for an answer.
Hanging up I gave Stella my attention. With nothing to hide from her, I didn’t bother moving things on my desk when I saw her eyes scan the brochures when she moved closer.
“New venture?”
“Since when was it your business, Stella?” My tone was indifferent, not inviting her to start conversation. “What is it you need?”
She raised an eyebrow at me, looking ridiculous. The woman was immaculate, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in sight. Botox was such a wonderful thing.
“Wow. Listen to you.” She approached the desk, fingered through the listings, picking up the Lewis pack. “Cute.”
I stayed on my feet and let her glance through the brochure without a word. She’d see no value in the rundown shop, she’d downright hate it. There was nothing grand about the Lewis place - didn’t reek money or sophistication. The fact she’d turn her nose up at it, made me love the place more.
“Why all the way down there?” She thumped the dog-eared brochure back on the desk. “It’s too quiet. You’ll never make any money with that piece of shit.”
Always the goddamned money with her. We had plenty, Christ – she had plenty. Beaufort wasn’t about the cash, she wouldn’t understand beyond pound signs. There was more to life than the paper stuff. I didn’t bother entertaining her.
“It looks like a money pit, for Christ’s sake, Lucca. You’ll sink more money into it than you’ll get out. Let me guess? Ryder talked you into it?” It was just like her to point the finger and think he had influenced me. She couldn’t see the potential, or perhaps didn’t want to. “I’m not traipsing down there to bail your pathetic arse out when it goes tits up.”
Had she forgotten I was divorcing her? I thanked the man upstairs, Stella’s obvious disgust would keep her away. The Lewis project was a new beginning, a way to take my life back, to get out of Stella’s clutches once and for all. I tuned her out, barely registering the stomp of her feet as she marched from my office.
* * *
With the festive season petering out and our God-awful Christmas behind us, I had no more responsibilities in the city. With Ayden back at university and my marriage on its last legs, I signed the lease on the rental property I’d had my heart set on. Ryder’s suggestion of relocating and renovating the restaurant ourselves had been the best idea I’d heard in a long time. I’d jumped at the chance once I’d twisted my head around it. Being as far away from Stella was appealing. She hadn’t batted an eyelid when I said I was leaving, hadn’t cared as long as I’d left the Bentley in the garage. I had no problem parting with the pretentious piece of shit, honestly the Cayenne suited me better anyway. I could pack much more into it than the overpriced Bentley I’d never wanted in the first place.
Ayden had never been home much these past two years, yet I missed him more. Student life kept him busy, with whatever kids his age did. I had no idea. My youth had been baby bottles and tantrums – bottles from Ayden, tantrums from Stella. I wouldn’t have changed a thing with Ayden, Stella was another kettle of fish altogether.
Trying to do the right thing had given me more headaches than I cared to remember. I was never one to walk away from my responsibilities even at a young age, and found myself married to my knocked-up girlfriend at eighteen years old. Far too young. Far too naïve. Ryder had tried to knock some sense into me for some time now. His jocular remarks always hinted at a truth I’d denied until the jokes eventually eased up and he grudgingly let me be. He’d made it no secret he couldn’t stand Stella right from the beginning; the feeling had been mutual on her part. Ryder would be happy to see the back of her once and for all. My marriage, if it could have ever been called that, finally had an expiration date. Stella being Stella, she was digging her heels in and hanging on with her claws, for what I had no idea.
Life - what I wanted was a life. Not an existence. I’d never been in love, never craved to be with anyone, never truly been happy in a woman’s arms. I’d only ever slept with Stella, even then it had only been sex, never making love. Fucking her was unemotional and distant, to get off inside something other than my own hand. Just fucking. I often wondered if I was too far gone, too cynical to ever fall in love. I wasn’t sure I’d even recognise love of that kind if it slapped me in the face. Stella had done a pretty bang up job numbing my heart through the years.
I imagined I’d come out the other end divorced, bitter and jaded and live life much like Ryder once had. A woman because. Two ships passing in the night, comforting for the moment. No commitment, just some fun.
Workaholic was a name that befitted me throughout my adult life. When I hadn’t been with Ayden, I was working, sinking myself so far into my career that sometimes hotels were all I knew. All hours, day and night, I’d built an empire to rival my father’s. Legitimately, legally. I took rundown restaurants and hotels and brought them back to life, it’s what I did best. Being forever tired was a relief; at the end of the day it meant not having to think about my non-existent life at home. Stella hadn’t cared. The money I’d brought home more than made up for her inattentive husband. My wife didn’t want me, no – she wanted the money, the notoriety, the glamour. The life that money could buy. She had known exactly what she was doing the minute she met me. I was the fool who chose to ignore it.
Beaufort would be a welcome relief, a freedom I’d never enjoyed in my life before. My excitement was tinged with nervousness, but I’d meet it head on with relish.
Ryder and I had been down to look at the house I’d had m
y eye on a few times before signing on the dotted line. The last time we were there, he’d grinned, slapped me on the back and said ‘yip’ before taking off. That was as much of an approval as I was getting - enough for me.
Today was moving day. Stella had disappeared a few days ago, which made it far easier to pack up my shit. Not that there was much. Clothes mostly, some documents and office stuff, gym equipment. Boxes left stored in the attic of my parents’ belongings had been tucked into the back of Ryder’s truck for sorting when I had the time. The rest I would leave, there were few ‘family mementos’ anyway. Stella hadn’t liked clutter, including photographs and nick knacks. Those, instead, littered my office. Many framed shots of Ayden, Ryder, and all three of us together, fought for space on my walls. I’d carefully packed anything that held sentimental value, in newspaper and boxed them up. Outside the office, the house was a showroom, nothing I wanted to touch. Every designer piece had its place. All expensive, all gaudy. Not my style. I’d given Stella the run of the place and our house represented her, not me. It could all stay.
“You got what you need?”
We both sat on barstools at the kitchen island, having a coffee for the road. It was bittersweet. The moment, not the coffee. I was leaving a house I’d lived in for over fifteen years, yet couldn’t wait to see the back of, to leave it all behind. Even with Ayden there, it had never been ‘home.’ Been a long time since I’d had one of those. I regarded the sum of all those years - three fat suitcases and several cardboard boxes.
Pitiful.
“Yeah, I think so. Ayden still needs to pack his things once he gets his mid-term transfer sorted out.” My boy wanted to go where I was, didn’t want to be left behind. As if that would ever happen.
The divorce papers had been quick, the demise of my marriage - not so much. Ayden had already been studying away from home when I’d talked with him about the future. Not surprisingly, he’d shed not a tear. Rightly, he was concerned he’d still be up in York though. Whatever he wanted I promised I’d support. Being the smart kid he was, he said he had a plan of his own, being in York was not part of it, bringing Jake down to Brighton with him was. He made his old man happy.
“Won’t take long, bro. They offer the same courses, it’s just paperwork. Bonus is - he’s not here, he’s in student digs, away from Stella. Stop stressing, man.” He drank the last of his coffee, clanging the cup onto the black onyx marble of the island top. “Time to go.”
Leaving the cups where they were, it would piss Stella off, I jumped from the stool smirking. God forbid she would have to put them in the dishwasher herself. I smirked as I pulled my keys from my pocket and unclasped the obnoxious looking house key from the bunch, throwing it on the island between the cups. I turned tail and strolled out of the kitchen, down the hall, straight through the front door and out to my loaded-up car.
I pulled from the driveway with a brazen flick of my middle finger behind me. Pushing my foot on the accelerator pedal, I took a deep breath and drove away from my prison, from twenty years of confinement and drove towards a future that felt easier to draw breath in already.
Laura
Christmas was always family time, no matter what. My house had been semi renovated, the rooms that mattered - living room, kitchen and guest room - were liveable, so we decided it would be my house this year for the family holiday. Festivities had been quiet, exciting, more fun than usual. Taylor and I had humped a huge Douglas Fir tree into the corner of my living room and spent an evening decorating the branches with multi coloured lights and pretty ornaments, drinking mulled wine and giggling like twelve-year olds.
Mum and dad came down early Christmas Eve, mum so she could cook and dad so he could...do nothing. Taylor stayed over, and it was like old times, when we were much younger, waking up early on Christmas morning and sneaking downstairs before our parents woke. Poking at wrapped gifts under the tree, we’d daren’t touch until everyone was up.
It was fun, it was normal, it was home. Time as a family we held precious, no exceptions. It was the first year where the holidays felt right.
We’d eaten Christmas lunch in front of the television, feasting on our mother’s famous chestnut stuffing and turkey. We opened gifts, pulled crackers, laughed a lot - silly things people often took for granted. The Hamilton family didn’t, we knew all too well how fragile life was.
Taylor’s love life had been a hot topic of conversation. Of course, the great Philip Hamilton knew who Ryder was, had done business with him and his partner on occasion, were old friends in a sense. The discussion was the only time tension threatened to pull us from our blissful bubble. My dad, being overly protective of us girls, had his reservations about Ryder Laurent and felt the need to warn Taylor to be careful, that he had a history with women, many women, and not a savoury one. She took it on the chin, waving dad off while mum shushed him.
My sister didn’t stay over Christmas night, opting to spend it with Ryder. If the Victoria Secret package that arrived at my door addressed to her last week had anything to do with her quickly scurrying off, I knew exactly what she had in mind and I didn’t blame her for abandoning us. She’d winked when she left, the cheeky mare, confirming my thoughts.
Our parents went home a few days later and Christmas wound down. Taylor stayed with Ryder for New year, I spent the evening making plans for the rest of my renovations. Sharpie and I were well acquainted by midnight bells. Was I bitter? Hell, no. It suited me fine. I wasn’t the life and soul of any party, staying home alone was no hardship for me, I preferred my own company most of the time.
Finally, Taylor decided that her boyfriend needed to pass the ‘sister test.’ Honestly, she was deliriously happy and there was no need, I think she was itching for a night out. It didn’t matter if I didn’t like the guy anyway, I’d pretend, for her. It would be a small sacrifice to pay to continue to see her so happy. She’d set the night up and we were to meet down at the local pub. Fingers crossed my anxiety would bugger off for a while.
Taylor mentioned Ryder’s friend being there too, which made me nervous and fidgety. I knew better than to think my sister was setting me up on a blind date - she wouldn’t. What if that’s what the other guy thought? Yes, bits and pieces of my life were coming on in leaps and bounds but I was nowhere near ready to get back on the dating merry go round. Wasn’t sure I ever would be, couldn’t see it happening any time soon, maybe ever.
Walking to Taylor’s apartment wasn’t all that far, some fresh air before I was cooped up in the bar all evening would be great. I ambled along the road, leisurely thinking about all the things Taylor told me about Ryder. How they met years ago, the awful circumstance in which they reconnected. The way she spoke about him - wistfully, lovingly - pulled at me, a pang in my heart fluttering. If I had to analyse it, I would guess it was jealousy. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it. Being jealous was an ugly emotion and I didn’t like it. I mean, I was perfectly happy living my solitary life - wasn’t I?
I was pulling my own damned leg, kidding nobody. How great would it be coming home to someone, to have those butterflies of anticipation, to look in someone’s eyes and know they were mine, and I was theirs too. To be loved, cherished, to be the other’s all. I briefly thought about Marc and physically cringed. My track record with men and relationships was anything but healthy. A sore history and raw in the worst of ways. I didn’t see myself ever managing to move on the way Taylor had. The one time I’d tried, look where I ended up.
Shaking myself from depressing thoughts, I moved through the spattering of snow that was slowly crusting over with the chill of the evening. Pulling my coat tighter around me, Taylor was at the forefront of my mind again.
Always Taylor. Taylor.
I grinned thinking about her and the way she spoke about Ryder, so animated. Ryder having been a player in the past, concerned me. Taylor wasn’t stupid by any means and I could see why Ryder was attracted to her, my sister was gorgeous - inside and out. If it wasn’t for the f
act they weren’t sleeping together, I would’ve easily dismiss them as a fling. I had to trust her even if I didn’t trust him. I’d kick his arse if he turned out to be a dickhead. He’d get a swift knee to the nuts and then some if he fucked her around. Taylor deserved a shot at the real deal, she had her heart set on Ryder, I hoped he wasn’t playing around with her.
Besides, it was time for us both to move on. She couldn’t keep mollifying my sorry arse forever. I’d promised myself Beaufort was a fresh start, I’d do things differently. I meant it.
Picking up my steps, feeling the wintry weather seep into me, I acknowledged my sister was in love. The prospect of meeting Ryder later wasn’t such a scary thing after all when I thought about how he made Taylor smile. Humming a happy tune, I let myself into Taylor’s gorgeous apartment. All the rooms had such homey feels to them, I loved spending time here. The first few months here she lived with one foot out the door, making no effort to make her place welcoming. I figured Ryder was rubbing off on her.
Letting myself in, I shouted down the hallway and Taylor hollered back that she was in the shower. Shrugging off my coat and hanging it at the door, I kicked off my cute purple pixie boots and traipsed down to the kitchen.
Taylor was always prepared, and tonight was no exception. I spied the bottle of wine she’d left out on her counter top and grinned. Pouring two glasses of the Malbec Rose, I took a sip from one, savouring the crispness, relishing the lively aftertaste of the cherries. I smiled, looking forward to having a night out and letting loose. I’d been stuck in my self-made DIY hell for far too long. The invitation to dress up and party was a no brainer, too much time had passed since I’d let my hair down and been out with my girl. I gulped down some more wine and decided - fuck it - I was going to have fun, my apprehension could do one. Get drunk and dance my cotton socks off was the goal of the evening. I felt safe here, so why the hell not? I wanted to stop wallowing in whatever pity party decided to take up in my head. Fun it was.