Page 72 of Feed Your Fiends

“Mother?” Sylo asks, seemingly concerned.

“It’s just,” she chokes, “I’ve been waiting almost two decades to meet my nephew. When I called, I didn’t think you’d actually answer.”

“Elle’s to thank for that,” I say.

Her eyes, the same shade of sage green, flicker warmly to Elle as she reaches for her hand, and Elle shakes it with a nervous smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Eloisa. I’m happy Gant felt comfortable enough to bring someone so important to him here.” She places a hand on Elle’s back, and I’m suddenly freezing when she leaves my side.

I almost want to dig my fingers into her houndstooth jacket and pull her back against me. Instead, I slip my burning fingers into my pockets and follow behind them with Sylo.

“Me too,” Sylo smirks. “It’s like a two-for-one special.”

“How long have you been dating?” Delphine asks.

I flinch at the worddating.I hate it. It sounds too unserious.

“Just a few months,” Elle says. “Nothing serious.”

Nothing serious?Why the fuck would she say that?

Delphine smiles brightly. “It must be serious. You’re here.”

Suddenly, I’m okay with Delphine guiding my baby into the sitting room. Once we cross the threshold, Elle can barely hold in her gasp, and it’s her roving eyes that make me spare it a second glance. I’d been in great rooms that were featured all across Europe’s top architectural magazines, but even this one was impressive, based on the quadruple height of the vaulted ceiling alone. It’s as if a cathedral was converted for the sole purpose of chatting over tea. Tea that Elle’s suddenly interested in as her face lights up at the dainty, bone porcelain tea set, offset by the love seat.

“You’re home is,” Elle begins, but then shakes her head. “It’s more than stunning. It’s like a dream. A fairytale.”

“That’s how a home should be,” Delphine says. “A place where no nightmares can happen. A haven.”

Elle’s beautiful smile crumbles. “It should.”

My dove’s never experienced such a haven. Is this what she likes? This style? Then she’ll have it.

“Would you care for some tea? Earl Grey? Lemon?” Delphine asks as Elle settles on the loveseat near the window, and I join her in the warmth of the filtered sunlight. My muscles relax the moment my thigh presses against hers, my fingers settle on her knee.

“Lemon please,” Elle says and I accept the same, not giving a damn about the flavour as I settle the cup and saucer onto the coffee table after a polite sip for it to turn ice-cold. I like making tea with Jarett, not drinking it.

“It really is lovely to see you, Gant,” Delphine says on the opposite couch beside Sylo, who’s hiding his bemused expression between sips. “I didn’t think this day would ever come.”

“My mother was adamant that it didn’t,” I say, and Delphine’s smile drops, and the light shining in her eyes, which has nothing to do with the sunlight filtering through the window, dims.

“I know. We were never able to rekindle our relationship. But it wasn’t from a lack of my trying.”

“My mother always had her reasons. What was hers when it came to you?”

Elle chokes on her tea, and Sylo’s wide, curious eyes fly to his mother.

“Straight to the point,” she laughs delicately, but there’s no humour.

“It’s impossible to move forward until you’ve cleared the hurdles.”

She nods slowly, resting the teacup on a saucer with a gentle rattle. “You’re right, and I want to move forward. Finally.”

Gant

Silence fills the room before she clears her throat. “Our parents were controlling in all aspects of our lives. I…I don’t think they did it maliciously. They genuinely thought it was necessary for us to excel. People hate stage parents, but have you ever met an athlete, musician, artist, or dancer who didn’t have a parent like that? I’ve danced ballet for decades in the top competitive circles, and I haven’t. Understanding parents always had mediocre performers. Sometimes good ones, but never great. It’s not right, but it’s the harsh reality of being the best. I’ve tried to find a balance for Sylo. Pressure without pain.”

“I’d say you’ve done well,” Sylo says. “I’m top of the class.”

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