Julien gazed out the window, watching the street lights flicker on in one synchronized moment. His pale lilac eyes shifted to the reflections of the other two people in the vehicle—who leisurely talked about nothing, as the drive entered its third hour.
Well, one was talking anyway.
Julien feigned disinterest.
"You should stay for dinner. I'm tellin' you, Land makes the BEST mac and cheese."
Nevaeah practically drooled at the thought.
Andrew shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road.
"I have somewhere to be."
Julien studied Andrew's side profile through the glass.
Strange.
It was all so strange.
Nevaeah glanced at Julien before probing Andrew.
"You sick of this knucklehead already?"
Andrew shook his head.
"You want my help pulling at his heartstrings?"
Julien turned to face her directly.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Nevaeah smiled.
"So you have been listening. Join us."
Julien turned back to the window.
"No thanks, there'll be plenty of time for conversation in like, thirty minutes."
Particularly with a certain stitch-mouthed individual whose name started with Th and ended in eia.
Nevaeah huffed and turned to Andrew, 'whispering' loud enough for Julien to hear.
"You see that? He may act cold, but it's all a front. A front I say! Rule number one:"
She raised her index finger.
"To win him over, you need to let him approach you."
She paused, putting her finger to her lips.
"He's kinda like a cat."
Andrew nodded, as if seriously considering the approach.
Julien made a zipping motion with his hand.
"Zip it."
Nevaeah sharply turned her head towards him and asked.
"Ok then sourpuss, why don't you contribute then?"
He raised a brow.
"Like what?"
Nevaeah indicated Andrew with her eyes.
"Ask him a question or something."
Julien turned his attention to the driver and shrugged.
"Favorite flower."
Nevaeah facepalmed.
Andrew spoke softly.
"...Sunflowers."
Julien nodded and turned back towards the window.
How warm.
"I'm done."
Nevaeah looked at him incredulously.
"That's it?"
He shrugged.
Nevaeah grumbled something to herself and sat back.
Time passed silently until they arrived outside of the Mediterranean-styled mansion. Andrew pulled up to the gate, got them buzzed in, and handed his keys to the valet-cum-head butler, before circling the vehicle and gently picking up the carrier of the sleeping dog.
Julien glanced at the pup—who stirred and looked around in confusion—before shaking his head.
She still won't let me touch her.
Nevaeah pushed the silver bell beside the door and listened to its chime, veritable excitement radiating off of her.
Excitement for the food that is.
"You make it seem like our school doesn't feed you."
She cringed at him.
"You may be fine with those flavorless decorations they call food, but I want something that doesn't taste like it was made by people who don't have enough sense to use their tastebuds."
Harsh.
Julien rubbed the back of his neck. He was glad he never cooked anything.
The door soon opened, accompanied by the sound of mechanical whirring from the opener's wheelchair and ambient piano music echoing from the dining hall.
The first thing they saw was Lannon's genial face, Julien's brother-in-law.
Nevaeah spoke first.
"Hey Lanny! I'm not bothering you am I?"
He smiled and shook his head.
"Never! Watching you enjoy my cooking is more than enough reason to have you."
She smiled and the two of them began happily chatting away.
Lannon was a lightskinned man in his late-thirties and one of the few people Julien knew who looked genuinely happy when talking to strangers. And other than Nevaeah, he was the most colorful person he knew too. Currently, his brown-tipped locs were tied up with a red scrunchie, and a blanket decorated with turkeys was draped over his wheelchair-bound legs.
It wasn't the most tasteful thing around, but who was he to judge?
"Lannon."
Lannon swept his honey-brown eyes over the other two standing at the entrance—lingering briefly on the dog carrier in Andrew's hands—before offering them a sheepish smile.
"Julien, Andrew."
With a clumsy cough, he pushed his wheelchair back and welcomed them in.
"Come come, the food is getting cold."
The three of them stepped inside, and the amiable man beckoned Julien and Nevaeah closer. Andrew remained separate.
He whispered, readjusting his glasses.
"Ahem. You know the drill. Don't eat the tourtie, but be nice about it."
Julien nodded, Nevaeah saluted, and Andrew silently placed the dog carrier on Lannon's lap.
Lannon's eyes sparkled like a kid on Christmas as he unzipped the carrier and held his hand out for the young pup to sniff.
She poked her nose out and looked at Andrew for reassurance. Seeing no reaction, she cautiously licked the man's hand, causing him to nearly tremble with joy. Julien could almost hear Lannon's internal squealing.
He couldn't help but feel a little jealous.
Lannon gave Andrew a polite smile and patted his arm.
"Thank you young man."
Andrew's shoulder twitched, but he said nothing.
Juilien threw a glance at the enigmatic man and tried to decipher his thoughts, but once again, whatever his micro-movements were meant to convey was lost in transmission.
As Lannon led them towards the dining hall, the sound of clattering dishes, relaxing music, and most importantly—the scent of delicious food, reminded Julien that this was supposed to be a holiday.
It didn't feel like a holiday.
Glancing behind him as they entered the hall, Julien frowned upon the realization that Andrew had dissipated somewhere between the foyer and the dining hall like smoke.
Typical.
He didn't think Andrew was a very suitable bodyguard with the way he kept appearing and disappearing like that, but he could definitely make it as an international spy.
If he wasn't so recognizable that is.
Julien turned back towards the hall as Loretta approached their group. Her heels clacking against the marble floors announced her arrival.
"You're just in time."
Nodding towards Nevaeah, Loretta held up her hand to stop her greeting before wandering off again. Julien pursed his lips and followed after her with his eyes.
Well that's… different.
She was a pale woman, with pin-straight, pitch-black hair that swayed just above her hips and thin wire-framed glasses that covered her sharp black eyes.
If Julien had to describe her, then 'black-and white' was what usually came to mind. Though right now…
She looks like a Christmas present.
Unlike how he normally saw her—with some flavor of grey or white blouse topped with a black foulard and a matching black pencil skirt—right now she was wearing a much 'flashier outfit.'
Glancing at Lannon, he was sure he'd found the culprit.
Her wire frames? Replaced with maroon cat eyes. Her monochrome closet? Replaced with a slim-fitted red and black plaid skirt-suit with gold lining and molded buttons, complete with a pair of maroon heels.
Not to say she didn't look good, it was just… different.
While Julien tried to reconcile the clashing images in his head, Loretta returned and handed each of them a long white candle before nodding towards the table.
"Set those in front of your seats."
Lannon stared at his candle and perked an eyebrow.
"Didn't I already do this?"
He tried to hand his candle back, but Loretta side stepped him, walking towards the kitchen with a sly smile.
"Then put Theia's down."
He grumbled something about unfairness and the lot of them spread out.
Nevaeah and Julien placed their candles closer to the center—Nevaeah because she wanted to be as close to everything as possible—and Julien so that he was close to her. Lannon put his candle at the end of the table, and soon, even Andrew spawned in with a candle of his own.
Herded by Theia and Loretta, he placed his across from Julien and Nevaeah.
Great, so he's staying for dinner after all.
Julien watched Andrew's brow twitch down as he turned to the two women.
"I was leaving."
Theia shook her head.
"Stay."
She pointed to the food already on the table.
"It's the least you could do."
Andrew tapped the table with his index finger, and even Julien could tell he was—at least somewhat—annoyed.
But that wasn't his problem.
Julien pried his eyes away from the scene and looked at the door leading into the kitchen. If he could get his sister alone for a few minutes then…
With one last peek at the outsider, he headed towards the kitchen with a determined expression.
No hard feelings.
Upon entering the vast space, the smell of all sorts of spices, sweets, and liquor immediately hit his nose, and he couldn't help but take a deep breath at the pleasant scent.
That breath became a startled cough when he saw the back of a platinum-blonde woman standing at the other end of the kitchen counter. Leaning against its surface while nursing a glass of deep-red wine that matched the color of her nails was—
"Irina…"
He breathed out.
What is she doing here?
Julien felt his spine run cold as Irina turned around. Her pale blue eyes raked over him as she lazily waved her hand.
"You've grown a lot over the years."
He picked at his thumb.
"You shrunk."
She shrugged.
"It's the perspective."
She walked up to him and touched his arm, causing a prickly chill to course through Julien's veins. He pulled away, crossing his arms.
"What are you doing here?"
Hand lingering in the air for a moment, she leaned back against the counter and poured herself another glass of wine.
"Your father is the same as ever."
She put the glass to her lips and stared at his face.
"Just in case you were curious."
Julien's breath hitched, and he resisted the urge to look behind him.
Is he here?
He furrowed his brows and gave his aunt a harsh look.
"That doesn't answer my question."
She shrugged and sauntered towards the door. Leaning against the doorframe, she watched the main hall like a hawk eying its prey.
It was an all too familiar sight in an unfamiliar place.
"It's too dreary at the main house. Wanted to swing by somewhere 'festive' after being surrounded by those old sharks."
She took a sip of her wine and hummed.
"Isn't that why you come here too?"
Julien watched her carefully, but she paid him no mind.
The overbearing silence was interrupted by the sound of laughter reverberating throughout the dining hall.
"Wait, you can't do that!"
Nevaeah and Lannon struggled to keep up with the young pups' energy, earning a scolding from the busy Loretta who demanded they keep her away from the food.
That same joy did not radiate into the kitchen.
Irina traced the rim of her glass.
"You still hanging around that Naveen kid?"
"Nevaeah."
Irina drained the last of her drink and scoffed. Letting the bottom of the empty glass dangle between her thin fingers, she finally looked his way.
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
Julien was about to correct her again when the timer on one of the stoves went off, interrupting him.
She watched the outside for a moment longer before going back to the counter and refilling her glass. Turning to Julien, she patted him on the shoulder and walked into the hall herself, saying in a teasing tone.
"Good luck."
Julien made to go after her, but stopped when he saw not his aunt, but his sister blocking the entryway.
That's right.
He wasn't here for her.
Theia's hazelwood eyes passed over him as if he weren't even there and she turned her attention to the oven, pulling them open one by one to figure out which one had just gone off.
"You met her?"
"You could say that."
She hummed an acknowledgement before donning a pair of oven mitts.
Taking a breath to level himself while she was distracted, Julien watched her work without letting even a single detail escape his notice.
She wore an ombre'd wine colored dress with several fluttering layers and had a light black shawl hanging over her arms. Other than the obvious safety hazard, it was classy—if not for the hot-pink apron that ruined her otherwise elegant appearance.
The same kind he had the misfortune of owning himself.
Her dark, wavy hair—reminiscient of a starless night sky—was pinned back in that all-too familiar style she wore when she wanted to appear composed. But the mixture of gold, fiery red and black jewelry gave her emotional state away instantly.
Apprehensive, combative, and exhausted.
He was in a similar state, but not nearly as put together.
"Theia."
"Julien."
She slid the tourtiere into the oven and shut the door. Taking off her oven mitt, she turned around.
"What's up?"
A lot of things really.
He sat in the chair Theia was using to rest and crossed his legs.
"I want you to rescind the contract."
Theia shook her head.
"That's not happening."
"Why?"
Sighing, Theia opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne.
"It doesn't matter why. I already told you I'm not taking him back Jules."
"Then move him somewhere else."
"Where?"
Julien threw his hand up, his tone rising despite himself.
"Anywhere! A floor below even."
She gave him a look before popping off the cork on the bottle and pouring herself a glass.
"And what's stopping you from making it halfway across the country by the time he wakes up to do his job?"
"Theia."
She put her glass down.
"Can't you just accept what I've given you without questioning me for once?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Maybe if you actually answered me for once."
"I'm not answering you because you don't need to know—"
Triiing
Another timer went off and she put her mitts back on.
"Just treat him like an extra dog and stop hustling me Julien."
"But he's not one."
"And?"
She pulled an apple pie out of the oven and placed it harshly on the counter.
"You want peace? Get used to it and you'll feel at peace."
Julien brushed his hair back, a severe grimace evident on his face.
"Get used to it? Really?"
She sighed, rubbing the space between her brows.
"What I meant was I want you to be safe. Can't you just—huu."
She turned to face him, placing one of her hands on her hip.
"Stop asking me why. The sooner you accept it, the faster it'll pass. Okay?"
Swallowing a curse, he scowled at her.
"You're not the only one that knows how to be stubborn, Theia."
She crossed her arms, unintimidated.
"Try something stupid. I dare you"
He eyed her for a moment longer, silently stood up, and walked out of the kitchen.