Page 124 of The Defender
The nostalgia was there, but that was it. Most of my old friends had moved away, and I wasn’t close to those who’d stayed anymore. Besides my mom and Charlie, I had nothing tethering me to the city.
The realization hit hard. I’d lived in the UK for eighteen months, but a small part of me had viewed it as a temporary thing. I’d assumed I would move back to California at some point, but the thought of leaving London felt like a knife in my gut.
Vincent was there. My dad and my friends were there. Mylifewas there.
“Miss!” The cab driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. Judging by his impatient tone, he’d been trying to get my attention for a while. “We’re here.”
“Right. Thank you,” I said, flustered.
I paid and dragged my luggage to the check-in desk, still reeling from a revelation that, in hindsight, should’ve been obvious. However, I didn’t have time to dwell on what it meant. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all. It wasn’t like it changed my plans in any way.
Thankfully, my room was ready despite my early arrival. I had time for a quick shower and a change of clothes before I needed to be at my mother’s house. She’d scheduled our “arrival check-in” before her weekly salon appointment, and if there was one thing she hated, it was being late to the salon.
I called an Uber. Thirty minutes later, it dropped me off in front a Mediterranean-style mansion that was three times the size of my childhood home. My stepfather Harry was a big corporate executive, and while his house wasn’t as decked-out as Vincent’s or Asher and Scarlett’s, it still occupied several thousand square feet of prime beachfront real estate.
My mom would’ve never settled for anything less.
I rang the doorbell, expecting their housekeeper to greet me. Instead, Harry answered it himself. “Brooklyn! So wonderful to see you. Come in. I hope you had a good flight.”
“Thanks. I slept for most of it, so I can’t complain.”
“Lie-down seat?”
I shook my head.
He grimaced. “I wish you would’ve let me pay for your flight. I told your mother to tell you I would’ve been happy to spring for first class.”
That was news to me.
“It’s fine. Like I said, I slept most of the way.” My smile felt tight and plastic. “Don’t you have work today?”
“I’m going in later. Your mother wanted me to speak with the contract—ah, there she is.” He beamed, and I had to give it him. He was either a great actor, or he was inexplicably still in love with my mother after four years of marriage.
It was an uncharitable thought, but I’d seen my mom love and leave enough men growing up to know that most of her relationships didn’t last beyond the six-month mark. Harry was one in a million.
She waltzed into the foyer. Even at nine months pregnant, she was impeccably turned out in designer maternity clothes, freshly blown-out hair, and perfectly manicured nails. She carried Charlie in her arms.
“Hello, darling.” My mom gave me a kiss on each cheek. She’d picked up the habit after her honeymoon in France and hadn’t stopped using it since. “Oh, it’ssogood to see you, though you look a little pale. Must be that dreadful London weather”—she clucked her tongue, her eyes scanning my bare legs and arms—“but at least you’re not bloated from all that pub food. I do wish you’d get rid of those dirty sneakers though.”
“Good to see you too, Mom,” I said dryly.
She was still stuck on my shoes. “What happened to those adorable Jimmy Choos I bought you for your birthday?”
“I can’t wear Jimmy Choos on a plane.”
“Why not? I do it all the time.”
“Because it’s uncomfortable and I don’t want to.”
She huffed out a sigh, but her annoyance visibly melted when Charlie reached his arms out toward me. “Yes, that’s Brooklyn,” she cooed. “That’s your half-sister. Say hi to your half-sister, sweetie.”
The repeated emphasis onhalf-sister felt a little pointed, but I shook it off and smiled at my favorite person in the household.
“Hi, Charlie. You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you,” I cooed. “You’re the cutest kid on the planet, aren’t you? Yes, you are.”
He giggled, his eyes crinkling as he grabbed for my finger. I held out my pinky. He grasped it with both hands and a happy squeal, and my heart absolutely melted.
My mom reluctantly handed him to me when Charlie kept trying to squirm out of her arms. I held him close, my chest tightening.
