“No? Then why do you look so shell-shocked?” Adam teased, patting me on the back.
His eyes move toward where I was staring – at Danielle. The smile on his face was predatory and malicious. He looked back at me and I could see the cold gleam in his eyes.
“Ah yeah, I guess I understand now,” he said. “But she said you two were over, so I assumed it was fine?”
“We are over,” I said, standing tall as I looked over at my ex. “She's all yours Adam. Enjoy yourself.”
He patted me on the back again, leaning into me. “Don't worry. You can have her back when I'm done with her. It's not love or anything like that. We're both just looking for a good time, nothing more.”
Adam was an asshole. He's been an asshole since the day he first came into this household. I understood why he was the way he was. I'd imagine being the family bastard would make anyone a little bitter and resentful. Never being considered “pure” or “real” in regard to the family would be enough to piss most people off. I got that. But, he seemed to take it to an extreme. Seemed to revel in it, in fact.
His mother wasn't my mother, even though we were only a year apart. He was a year younger than me. My father sent money to his mother for years, unbeknownst to us, which was why my mom still refused to accept him into the family. He was my father's dirty little secret and she continued to think of him as such.
It was not Adam's fault. He didn't ask to be born into such a screwed-up situation, so I'd always tried to be decent to him. But damn, he made it hard sometimes. He liked to poke me every chance he got. It was as if he was goading me, trying to make me go off on him. We've had our fights growing up, don't get me wrong. We weren't close by any means, and likely never would be. But, I’d always tried to remain civil toward him.
Alba happened to answer the door the day Adam had shown up on our porch, and I'll never forget when she stepped into the dining room, during dinner, and whispered something to my father. She looked distinctly uncomfortable, and we all knew something was up. Little did we know his bastard child was standing in our foyer, ready to disrupt our lives forever.
“She's all yours, Adam,” I said. “I don't want her back. Ever.”
I wanted to say something more biting, something that would cut her to the core. But, I didn't. I remained civil even though it was killing me to do so. My gaze never left Danielle though, who held her head high. She heard me, I made sure of it, but my words didn't seem to have any effect on her. Or, if they did, she was doing a masterful job of hiding it.
I left Adam alone with Danielle and joined my mother on the sofa. She was staring into the fire, sipping her tea, trying her best to pretend that Adam wasn't there. I understood her pain and disdain for my half-brother. I didn't necessarily agree with it, but I understood it. Adam was a constant reminder that her husband hadn't always been faithful to her. My mom's discomfort was completely justified when that reminder stood within ten feet of her.
It seemed like I'd been making excuses for him and clinging to that mantra most of my life.
Who he was wasn't his fault. What was his fault, however, was how he continued to behave around my mother. Knowing she hated him, he continued to throw my dad's affair in her face, every chance he got. He was petty, childish, and vindictive. That was his way. I wanted to believe that if he'd ever showed her a modicum of respect, she might have eventually come around where he was concerned.
But, he didn't, and neither did she, which made gatherings of our little family incredibly uncomfortable.
I leaned over and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. She leaned into me, seemingly grateful for the contact, and I took the opportunity to whisper into her ear.
“Did you know he was coming?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I didn't invite him,” she said in a hushed tone. “Your father must have.”
Her hands trembled, so I put her tea and my coffee on the table in front of us and took her hands in mine.
“What's this all about, mom?” I asked. “Did he give you any clues?”
She'd kept her mouth shut about this meeting ever since she called me to tell me to be there. Her eyes met mine and I could see she knew exactly why we were there. She just wasn't telling me. Probably because my father told her to keep her lips zipped about it.
“Your father will explain everything once he's done meeting with his lawyer,” she said.
My father's lawyer, Terrance Houston, had been in dad's office for at least an hour. Mom was hush-hush about that as well. Given the secrecy and all, I assumed this meeting had to do with his will. Although, as far as I knew, my dad wasn't dying yet. Yeah, his health had been going downhill the last few months or so, but there was nothing that would signal that he was on his death bed. Certainly nothing that would seem to warrant a meeting like this being called.
As my mind swirled with thoughts and emotions, an icy finger of dread trailed its way up my spine. Was there something wrong with my dad that he hadn't told us about yet? Was he actually dying? The more I thought about it and played out the worst-case scenarios, the more my anxiety about it all ramped up.
My mother put her hand on mine and squeezed. She sensed my anxiety and sought to help me keep it in check. I gave her a grateful smile and a nod, grateful for her comfort.
We heard the door to his office creak open down the hall, and not a moment too soon – I was on the verge of losing my marbles from the anticipation. Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor and then Terrance stepped out – alone – and didn't say a word to any of us as he walked through the parlor, toward my mother. Stopping before he, he took her hand and gave her a gentle, compassionate smile before speaking in a hushed tone.
“He's ready to see you now,” he said.
Terrance's turned his gaze to me and he nodded in recognition.
“Malcolm, good to see you.”
“Good to see you, Terrance.”