“It’s…complicated.”
“Is there anything about you that isn’t complicated anymore?” She snorted. “You have all the money in the world. Cars, houses, mansions, and you got laid. You’re living the dream.”
Not quite. I sucked in a breath. “My father married Emily before they died.”
“Who? His girlfriend?” Azariah breathed into the phone. “No.”
“She had a son. And he…” I banished the memory of his lips pressing into my neck. “Made it into the will.”
“No way!” Azariah whooped. “Girl, this is some Lifetime movie shit.”
“It gets worse.”
Azariah hushed me for a second before muffling the phone and announcing to anyone listening in the office. “I’m going on break, ya’ll! Keep talking, girl. Who is this son?”
“I already met him.”
Silence. She waited, not making it easy on me.
“He and I…met.”
“Oh.” She figured it out. “Oh, Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“You…and your step-brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, honey. This is beyond Lifetime. This belongs on Maury Povich.”
“It’s horrible,” I said.
“Did you know it was him?”
“Of course not!” Give me some credit. “But I have a lot to figure out.”
“But…” Azariah hummed. “Was he any good?”
I tossed a suitcase onto the bed, but nothing from my drawers made it in. “He’s my step-brother!”
“Well…I mean…he’s not blood.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“People do fucked up shit all the time. You’re rich. You can get away with it.”
I sighed. “Not this.”
“All those kings and queens in Europe used to do it.”
“I’m not a queen!”
“Didn’t Woody Allen marry his adopted daughter?”
“Gross.”
She snickered. “Maybe you’ve been watching too much Game of Thrones.”
“It’s not funny! This is a problem! I have to deal with this guy, okay?”
“It’s a little funny.”
I didn’t need her attitude. “I’m hanging up now.”
“Sorry.” She let it pass, but I knew her too well. She wasn’t done. She circled the pack, looking for somewhere weak to sink her teeth. “But you know this wouldn’t have happened if you had just talked with your dad.”
I packed all of my underwear into the suitcase. I had more than I thought. Now the latches wouldn’t close. Fantastic.
“He left us,” I said. “We had nothing to discuss. Don’t make me feel guilty. I’m on a hair trigger.”
“He was trying to start a relationship. The car and school and gifts. He extended an olive branch.”
And I broke that twig over my knee and cast it into a fire. “I know. But it doesn’t change anything. He made his choice. Hell, he even started a new family.”
“It really is sad.”
And now I had more guilt. “I gotta get packing. I’m heading up to the—” I didn’t want to say mansion. “—House.”
“When can I see it?”
It was probably visible if she squinted and looked at the horizon. “Whenever you like.”
“You’ll need to have a big graduation party there, Shay. Something to celebrate your trust.”
“I guess.”
“You leave that to me. I’ll plan you something worthy of an MTV special.”
God help us all. Azariah was eager to keep talking, but she miraculously had to go when I asked if she’d help me pack. I was on my own to box up my things and transform myself into someone completely different.
A mansion awaited me, just a little ways north of the city.
A whole mansion.
Pools and hot tubs, patios and gardens, fountains and statues. Downton Abbey was my new reality, except I didn’t have a lick of English inside me…not without Zach’s persistence.
Except, it didn’t feel right. None of it.
So why did I want to live there so badly?
I knew it was more than money and security and luxury. The estate was the only bit of family I had left.
How was I supposed to know Dad would die?
I sighed. No sense dwelling on the past. Momma always said we’d have more than enough time at Judgement for that.
First thing was first. I needed to buy luggage. I wasn’t moving into a beautiful new mansion hauling garbage bags full of clothing into my room.
The knocking rattled my door just as I finished folding my last pair of socks. I grinned—who thought Azariah would actually help me move?
I bounded to the door, swinging it open without bothering to greet her. I grabbed an armful of dirty laundry from the living room. No more quarters for the machines downstairs. Hell, I could buy new outfits whenever mine needed to be washed.
“Azariah, Grab whatever looks like clothes and follow me.” The laundry smothered me as I gave the order. “We have to figure out how to stuff everything I own into one suitcase.”
I hobbled to the bedroom and dropped the armful of clothes onto the already bigger pile cluttering the floor. Maybe Dad did help more than I thought. Without worrying about car payments or school, I had much more disposable income to spend on my wardrobe.
I examined the mess. Where did I get a Taylor Swift shirt? That was Azariah’s doing. I kicked the shirt over to her and finally looked up.
I hadn’t welcomed Azariah into my apartment.
It was Zach.
And he picked up the laciest, pinkest pair of panties I owned. He stretched them between his fingers.
“Packing the necessities?” He asked.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
I leapt over the bed and slammed shut the suitcase brimming with panties. The bed frame was a piece of junk. The slats holding the box-spring slipped, and everything tumbled, including the suitcase. Zach laughed as a wave of panties cascaded over his legs.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” I shrieked.
He jerked a thumb to the door. His t-shirt tightened over his biceps. Didn’t he have any clothes that fit?
“You let me in.”
“Well, get out!”
“Why?”
“Because this place only has me on the lease. You don’t live here!”
Dimples, a flash of teeth, and a quirked eyebrow. He disarmed me without even trying.
“Relax. I wanted to see if you needed help moving.” He wagged a folder in his hand. “William called me. Said he had some paperwork for us. I volunteered to bring it.”
I took the folder. “Thanks. Get out.”
He declined with a smile. “So, you’re packing? Decided to come stay with me after all?”
“I’ve decided to live in the house that my father passed to me.”
“I haven’t had a roommate for a while. Hopefully it’s better than the barracks.”
“We are not roommates.”
“Not yet. Look at all this packing you have to do.” His grin would suffocate me. “Seriously, need any help getting this to the car?”
“Not from you.”
Zach motioned to sit on my bed. I chased him away.
“Shay, come on. There’s no sense being angry.”
I had every right to be angry. I fluttered around his feet, collecting stray bits of the sluttiest and most embarrassing underwear I had. I didn’t know what was worse—the granny panties or the slinky silk ones.
I poked his chest as he dared to get in my way, but brandishing a thong at him wasn’t threatening.
“You tricked me,” I said. “You had sex with me without saying you were my step-brother. You lied about who you were, why you found me, and what you were doing. It was cruel, and I want nothing to do with you now. No help. No moving. No nothing.”
“How am I supposed to make it better if you won’t even listen to me?”
“There’s nothing to make-better. You are beyond apologies at this point.”
“Give me a chance?