Unlike my father, Eduard is an energetic man in his late thirties. He works in the imports and exports branch of my father’s business. He’s basically Father’s right-hand man, aside from being his most beloved brother.
He dresses in eccentric colourful suits — his way to attract attention. Today, it’s dark purple with some mosaic-coloured cloth at the breast. While Father is tall and broad, Eduard is lean and has scrawny shoulders. His looks are average at best: round nose and slightly bulging green eyes, as if they’re not able to fit in their sockets. The genetic difference between him and my father is noticeable. One looks every bit the aristocrat he is, while the other appears like a charity case — which he was at some point, being a stepson of the Astor family.
The moment he sees me, Eduard abandons Father’s side and clasps me in a hug. I freeze for a moment, meeting Dad’s eyes, and then I wrap my arms around my uncle, patting him in that ‘people with titles don’t hug’ awkward way. Even my father shakes his head at that.
He never managed to get Eduard to quit this habit. He never will.
“Look at you, nephew.” Eduard pulls back to look me up and down. “You’ve grown.”
I grin. “You’re still the same.”
He laughs, the sound like a song gone wrong before ending on a smashing note. “That I am, nephew.”
“It’s a surprise to see you here.” I stare between him and Dad, hoping one of them will explain his sudden return from the other side of the world. I thought he was responsible for the Australian branch and wouldn’t return anymore.
“Edric called me back.” Eduard squeezes my shoulder. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Indeed.” I keep my attention on my father.
“I’m busy, so your uncle will take care of the London branch from now on.”
“Busy with what?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Your touristic trips or dragging Mother all around the globe?”
“I will not be questioned by you.” He levels me with a glare.
When I was younger, Earl Astor’s glare meant I needed to shut the fuck up and do as he’d told me.
I always did.
Until one of his glares changed my life for fucking good.
“Eduard, let’s have some tea.” Father smiles at his brother, motioning downstairs. “Lars has your favourite ready.”
“Lars. How lovely. I forgot you always have him around.” Eduard squeezes my shoulder one last time. “We have so much catching up to do, nephew. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Not sure you’ll have any time for me, Uncle. My father doesn’t mess around with business.” I stare at said parent. “I’m going to Mother since you’re busy as usual.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I’m already striding down the hall to my parents’ bedroom.
Eduard’s voice echoes behind me as he soothes my father, telling him I’m at that age and he should be patient with me.
Fuck them both.
Fuck their names and titles and business.
I stop in front of my parents’ bedroom and take a deep breath. Mum can’t see me at my worst, or she’ll sense it.
She always does. Since I was a boy, she’ll stop and stare at me and say, “Dit moi tous, mon chou.”
I don’t know when I stopped doing that, telling her everything that’s on my mind, I mean, or being son chou. No, that’s a lie — I know the exact moment; I just never wanted to associate it with my mum.
She’s light. That moment is darkness.
I suck in a deep breath and knock on the door. There’s no response. I knock again, and when there’s nothing, my heart races.
She can’t possibly have fainted like the other time…right?
“Mother?”
No response.
“I’m coming in.”
I push on the door and go inside, but there’s no sign of her in her room. I check the bathroom, but she’s not there either.
Fuck. Where did she go?
Mum rarely leaves her room, if ever, and whenever she does, it’s for the adjoining office she uses to answer emails and such.
She doesn’t have friends to speak of either. Dad and I are her entire world, as she once said.
I’m about to check the office when I pass by the closed door of the balcony. Sure enough, Mum is standing in the sun, her blonde curls falling to her shoulders as she laughs. I haven’t seen her laugh like that in…years.
And the reason behind the laugh is none other than the tiny girl who’s crazier and prettier than I ever thought.
Teal fixes a ribbon on Mum’s dress and says something that makes her laugh again. The rare English sun shines down on both of them, making Mum’s hair and eyes shine and giving a glint to Teal’s black gaze.
She’s smiling. It’s demure and discreet, but it’s there. A smile — a fucking genuine one at that.
Could be because of the meeting with Dad and Eduard, or it could be everything that happened over the days since that tiny thing barged into my life.
I know one thing for certain: she won’t be able to leave this time.
Cole was right — it’s time to seize the chance.
12
Teal
I was never one for small talk. It causes my skin to itch. Besides, I’m too awkward for that.
Human interaction has always been my weakness; that’s why I keep it to an absolute minimum.
However, as I sit with Charlotte, I don’t think of the situation as small talk, but more like afternoon tea. Or rather something more pulling and extraordinary.
It takes me a long time to connect to people — if I ever do — and it takes them ages to warm up to me. That’s what happened with Elsa and her friend Kim.
Charlotte is different.
She has an elegant finesse about her that makes me feel more welcome than my skin allows.
Despite our recent acquaintance, she talks as if we’ve known each other for ages, as if Lars making us tea is a daily occurrence. She didn’t even protest when I offered to do her makeup and pick her dress.
People with titles like Charlotte dress up in the house, sort of like in the Victorian era.
I didn’t feel the hours passing by. The reason I’d come started to fade away too. Soon enough, I found myself talking to her, and not due to what’s expected in these situations.
Me, talking. Me, striking up a conversation.
At first, I think it’s because I feel sorry for her. After all, Charlotte is a victim in all this, and she doesn’t deserve what will happen at the end of the tale.
But eventually, I realise I do enjoy her company, right around the time I start telling her about Knox’s pranks and Elsa’s new love.
“How about you?” she asks in her feather-light, soothing-to-the-ears voice.
“Me?” I pause in tying the ribbon on her waist. I’ve always had a thing for clothes and appearances, even if mine lean towards the eccentric type.
“Yes. Do you have a new love like your sister?”
“No…I donʼt.” What the hell is up with that hesitation at the end?
Charlotte’s beautiful face falls a little, but she pats my hand. “Don’t refuse the idea too soon. You never know.”