One
Arabella
“You’re moving in with your uncle next week.”
“What uncle?”
“Seriously, Arabella?” My mother looked at me like I’d grown a second head.
“Seriously, Diana,” I snarked back. Something about traveling Europe by yourself made answering to parents a million times harder. “You have a sister who is a lesbian, and Dad is an only child.”
“Uncle Willem,” Dad said before Mom could snap back.
“Willem isn’t my uncle.”
“Close enough.”
“A stepbrother from one of Grandpa’s many marriages from fifteen years ago, hardly counts. Were you even in the same house for long? Is he even old enough to watch me?”
“For the love of God, Arabella,” my mom muttered.
“He’s thirty-three. So, old enough.”
“When do you even talk to him? In between surgeries while you live at the hospital?”
“Please stop arguing, Arabella,” my dad said, rubbing his eyes. “He’s the closest thing you have to an uncle, and since Grandpa died, family is sparse. So, take what you can get.”
“Don’t I get a say in it?” I argued.
Why bother asking my opinion when they didn’t want to hear it anyway. They never had before when making a decision for me.
“What will you say, Arabella?” Mom asked. “You’ve been back from your backpacking adventures for two weeks and start school in less than a month. You sold your car to traipse around Europe for six months. Uncle Willem lives right off campus and can give you a ride if need be.”
“You could always help me with another one. Pay for half like you did the first, and I’d pay you back.”
Both parents knew better and silently shook their heads, moving on without even entertaining the idea.
“He was nice enough to offer when we told him you somehow forgot to apply for student housing,” Dad said.
I shrugged completely unrepentant. “Whoops.”
What can I say? I kind of hoped they wouldn’t hold me to my word of going to college, and maybe if I didn’t have a place to stay, then I wouldn’t have to go.
My world history class my junior year had sparked a light in me I didn’t know existed. From then on, all I could think about was traveling the world any way possible. I delayed my first year of college after high school and worked two jobs to save money. My parents let me know they wouldn’t be helping in any way if I put off college.
It would have been perfect, except my best friend, Felicity, got sick before we left, and the trip that we’d planned on splitting, had turned into a solo purchase. One I couldn’t afford.
“You’re not getting out of this. A deal is a deal,” Mom reminded me.
They’d ended up giving me the small amount I couldn’t make up in such short notice to cover Felicity’s portion, but I had to apply to college and be back in time to start the fall semester. They’d made me apply before I left, and I would have promised almost anything to get out that door.
“I know,” I grumbled.
“We thought you could leave a few weeks early and look for a job. Willem said you didn’t have to pay any rent, but you will be responsible for taking care of yourself.”
“Will I have a curfew? Or will I be allowed some freedom?”
“Jesus.” Mom’s arms flew in the air before pacing away.
I was being snotty, and I knew it. I just hated this pressure of a life I didn’t choose closing in on me. Especially after months of answering to no one but myself.
None of it was new. They wanted me to be a certain way and encouraged, as Mom put it, me to be better. I thought I was fine the way I was.
In the very stereotypical fashion, I tended to push back to keep them at a distance so their disappointment stung less.
“Will you be taking me? Or am I flying? If I’m flying, how will I know it’s him when I see him. It’s been so long. A stranger could come claim me, and I’d never know.”
My dad merely stared, used to my antics. “It’s been two years, I hardly think you could forget how he looks,” he deadpanned. “And you’ll be flying.”
I definitely didn’t forget how he looked.
I’d only seen him a handful of times at holidays when he could make it out to Denver, but the last time I’d seen him, I’d been old enough to understand attraction. It wasn’t like I was putting my non-existent daddy issues on him by finding him attractive. It was more factual—objective. Uncle Willem was hot.
He’d been tall, broad, dark hair, and ocean eyes. His square jaw had been clean-shaven with his hair slicked back. It’d been thanksgiving, and while I’d lounged around in my leggings and giant sweater, he’d looked put together in slacks and a button up.
Too bad I’d been into guys just as savage as my personality. So, while my feminine body recognized his looks, I’d been able to brush it aside.