Page 38 of The House Guest
“Now that you put it that way, yeah. Sure, why not?”
***
That evening, I decided to make myself productive at home.
One of the things Dorian and I had discussed over caviar and Hot Cheetos a couple of weeks ago was what to do with my aunt’s clothing, handbags, and shoes.
He’d asked if I would be willing to go through everything, figure out what I wanted to keep and what shouldbe donated. I’d told him I’d be happy to, but I hadn’t yet done it.
Since I hadn’t heard the garage door open, that meant Dorian was not home from work. I took the opportunity to leave my room and head down the hallway to her old bedroom.
Remington and Christina had shared an enormous walk-in closet. Her clothing was on one side and his on the other. Even though it wassupposedto be a closet, the space was pretty much an entire room—at least the size of my bedroom, if not a bit bigger.
A chill ran through me as I glided my hand across Christina’s clothes. Some of the items still smelled like her perfume. Everything was organized by category. There were a dozen gowns, many with sequins, all in a row. She loved blazers and silk scarves. And the shoe collection? Nothing to scoff at. Mostly designer heels, each pair with a dedicated shelf featuring its own recessed lighting.
As beautiful as the closet was, there was nothing happy about this experience. I hadn’t properly prepared myself for how emotional it would be to look through her personal items. It was sometimes possible to forget what had happened, but being in here, immersing myself in all of her things, served as a harsh reminder that she was no longer here to enjoy them. Life was unfair.
What good was having wealth if it could all end in an instant? You can’t take any of it with you. And I suppose none of it matters if you’re not happy in life. Christina may or may not have been happy in her final days. She and I weren’t close enough to delve that deep. If what Patsy said was true—that Remington wasn’t faithful to my aunt—Christina might’ve been hiding some pain. Either that, or she was being lied to. I’d never know.
The more I sifted through her clothing, the more I felt wrong about keeping anything that wasn’t rightfully mine. I didn’t want to inherit something from my aunt solely because she’d died. I decided the best course of action would be to give all the clothes and shoes to charity, rather than picking out certain things. The latter felt like greedy entitlement. It also felt easier to give it all away and not have to think about each item and the memories that would never be made.
I froze at the sound of footsteps.
Then came his voice from behind me. “Well, of all the places I imagined I’d find you tonight, this wasn’t on my list.”
Shit.I turned slowly. “How did you know I was in here?”
“I noticed the bedroom door open. Thought that was a little weird. So figured I’d check things out.”
“You aren’t supposed to be home at this time.”
“Spoken like someone who’s specifically trying to make sure she avoids me.”
“I’m not gonna deny that.”
“You shouldn’t. You’re a master at it lately.”
“Apparently not anymore.”
“Actually, I came home early hoping I’d catch you. I knew you wouldn’t be expecting me, and I figured your guard would be down.”
“Why do you want to see me?”
“I think you know why.”
“It’s not necessary to talk about it.”
“I think it is. You ran off before you let me explainwhyI said no to you.”
Cut right to the chase, why don’t you?Cringing, I took a seat on the floor and crossed my legs. “I don’t need to be reminded of that night. But you reminded me there’s a very good reason I’d never made the first move before.”
“Ilovedthat you made the first move.”
“I could tell,” I said sarcastically.
He joined me on the ground and situated himself on the side of the closet that housed his father’s clothes. A waft of his amazing scent registered, and I felt my body tingle.Damn it.
“Technically, it wasn’t the first move, though,” he said. “That was all mine when I licked that body shot off of you.”
