“Holy shit,” I mutter when Noah pulls into a gated drive that must have been left open for the night. There are a ton of cars lining the drive—all of them fancy. They may not be brand new and smelling like leather or have the numbers 911 on the back, but still, pretty damn fancy. The sun is setting but I have no issue taking it all in. My eyes go up and up and up since the house before us is three stories. It’s on a point and water surrounds it on three sides. “You grew up here?”
“No.” I look over and he sounds as irritated as he looks. “I was a Navy brat until middle school. Then my father landed a big promotion. With that, and since my mother came from some money, they were able to mortgage way more house than they needed. It was too big for the three of us then and it’s way too big for the two of them now. My mom does have a decent studio here and that makes her happy, so I guess there’s that.”
“You’re worried, aren’t you?”
He pulls around the side of the house like it was his own—which I guess it sort of used to be—and parks in front of a four-car garage before he kills the engine. “No, baby. I’m pissed I’m here and I’m more than pissed about why. I’ve got to do everything I can to protect my mother from this. I’m sure there will be fallout eventually but if I can cushion her from that, I will.”
I lean over the console in the small sports car and put my lips to his. “That’s so sweet, like my Noah. I can’t wait to meet your mom.”
His hand comes to my face. “Your Noah?”
I nod. “Yes. Mine. You can be a badass for everyone else, but this,” I press my hand over his heart, “is mine.”
The intensity of his gaze hits me straight in my chest and I fall a little bit more.
“Let’s go, baby. The sooner we can get this over with the better.”
“We’re staying for the fireworks, right?”
His lips curve up on one side. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you see fireworks tonight.”
I don’t have a chance to kiss him again because we’re out of the car and on our way to the front door. Noah doesn’t knock but walks right in. And I’m surprised archangels don’t sing the moment I step through the door.
It’s obvious I grew up the exact opposite of Noah Jarvis. We had seven people under our roof before my mom died and it was barely big enough for three. After our dad was gone, we moved in with our aunt. They went from a family of four to a family of nine. I lived in the dorms all four years of college, and when I got my first job, I moved into the apartment I live in today. The day my sisters and Grady moved me in, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had more space in my eight hundred and fifty-two square feet than I ever had before. I felt like a queen.
But, this? This is something I’ve only seen in the movies or maybe House Hunters. Everything is white until my eyes hit the distressed wood floors beneath my flip-flopped feet. The furniture is warm yet eclectic, the ceilings go on forever, and there is art everywhere.
Light and bright in color, the strokes are soft and muted, fused like lovers coming together as one but still separate. Some are on canvas and others are framed. People, landscapes, animals, still life. And since every wall in the house is white, the art comes to life and jumps off the wall, singing its story.
Even though there’s a constant murmur of conversation going on in the distance, I ignore it, turn to Noah, and lower my voice. “This is beautiful. Seriously overwhelming. Your mom painted all of these?”
“No need to whisper, baby.” He smirks and puts a hand to my back nudging me farther into the house even though I haven’t thoroughly taken in all of the art. “And yes, they’re all hers.”
We head to the back of the house where people are milling, coming in and out from the back door. The white walls continue where the house opens up into nothing but windows, and through them, nothing but water on the horizon where the dark sky kisses the bay.
“Wow,” I whisper to myself.
But I look to the right when I hear a gasp that overpowers everything around us. “Noah!”
A woman who’s taller than me with dark blond hair and a fair complexion, moves around the enormous island full of food and littered with drinks. Noah gives my hip a squeeze before letting me go to wrap his arms around her. “Hey, Mom. It’s good to see you.”
“You came,” she says without letting him go and I realize Noah isn’t only mine. He might be Jarvis to the rest of the world, but not to his mother. And even though I haven’t been introduced yet, I’m grateful to her. If his father is the asshole he describes, I bet my very humble checking account Noah is the man he is because of this woman.
He allows her to hug him as long as she wants. When she finally lets go, she holds onto his thick biceps and gazes up at him with pure joy. “You said you weren’t coming but you came. You made my whole summer, thank you. But what on earth were you doing that won you a black eye?”
Well, shit.
Like the badass he is, he ignores her question and turns to the reason for that black eye—me. “Mom, this is Gracie. Baby, this is my mom, Evelyn Jarvis.”
The moment his endearment spills over his lips, Evelyn’s eyes become saucers and she turns to me. I greet her with a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Noah has told me so much about you and your artwork is beyond beautiful.”
She takes my hand in both of hers and her eyes cut to her son. “He hasn’t told me anything about you.” She looks back at me and her smile turns mischievous. “That means I get to know you all on my own.”
“Mom—” Noah tries.
“Don’t Mom me. You show up unannounced with a female guest, I can do whatever I want.”
Noah’s hand grabs mine and he argues, “No, you can’t—”
But Evelyn is having none of it and threads her arm with my other one. “This party just got interesting. Come on, Gracie. Let’s get you some food and a drink. I’ll show you around and introduce you.”
Noah sighs and drops my hand. “Mom, she doesn’t care about your friends.”
She looks up at her son and rolls her eyes. “I just want to get to know her. Come with us, people will want to see you.”
Noah ignores her and looks around, “Where’s Dad?”
“The last I saw, he was down at the boathouse getting more chairs for the fireworks. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Let’s get you guys some food.”
Noah looks at me and hikes a brow, silently asking if I’ll be okay and I respond, “Why don’t you go find your dad and say hi.”
“You’ll see him soon enough. There’s bar-b-que—your favorite,” Evelyn insists, looking back to her son.
I know I’m being selfish because I want to know her but I also want to do my part to distract her so Noah can talk to his dad about his secret son. “I’ll be fine. Go help your dad with the chairs and then we can eat.”
He leans in, presses his lips to my forehead, and I swear I hear floral arrangements being designed in the sigh that Evelyn expels next to me. She finally gives up on him and Noah is off, trying to make his way through the massive area that some might consider a family room, but to me it looks like a ballroom. I don’t take my eyes off him and watch as men stop him to shake his hand and he gets caught up in a conversation that I know he’s silently cursing in his head.
“Well, if you aren’t the surprise of the decade, I don’t know what is.”
I look back to Evelyn Jarvis. Even if she were a young mother, she would still probably be in her fifties but it doesn’t show. I’m not sure what I expected but it wasn’t this.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asks.
I’m pulled through the chattering crowd. “I’m fine for now.”
“I’m going to be selfish and keep you to myself. Noah is right—these people don’t matter, not when I just laid eyes on you for the first time. Come. I know Noah thinks it’s ridiculous, but I love this house. I’ll show you around.”
The nosy part of me speaks out. “I’d love a tour.”
“I’ll show you
the whole thing and we’ll end at the observatory—the best room of the house. But I expect you to talk the entire time. I want to know how you and my son met and you’d better not leave out one detail.”
“Of course,” I lie because there is no way I’m telling Evelyn Jarvis about my one-night stand with her son, or about my being kidnapped because Noah’s secret half-brother sold him out unknowingly to an Irish militant group, or, really, anything else for that matter.
“Start from the beginning and don’t leave out any details,” she demands as we come to a stop in a room off the side of the house that’s more colorful than the rest, but only because of the books lining the walls from top to bottom. “This is the library and one of Noah’s favorite rooms. He was always the smartest in his class and I’m not just saying that because he’s my son. His grades spoke for him.”
I turn in a circle trying to imagine Noah the middle-schooler sprawled across the sofa reading Harry Potter.
She turns to me and crosses her arms. “You’re not talking and I know Noah will never talk. How did you meet?”
I chew on the inside of my lip for a hot second before I spill about thirty percent of the truth that should keep us on the right plot. “Noah and my brother work together…”
* * *
Jarvis
I slam the door behind me and make my way across the lawn to where my father’s forty-five-foot sailboat is docked next to their boathouse. It doesn’t matter that the sun is gone—I could walk this in my sleep if I had to. At least he’s out here so I don’t have to get him by himself.
My phone vibrates again. Fuck me, it’s been on fire all night and if he doesn’t stop, I might block my new half-brother before the reunion even begins. I know it’s not his fault our father is a cheating, lying asshole, but I’m not feeling the brotherly love just yet. He can wait one more day for us to get to know each other.
I open the door to the boat house and it’s exactly as I remember. The rowing shell boats are stacked against one wall, extra sails, lines, a canoe, and, probably the only true love of my father’s life, his antique Chris-Craft wooden boat, raised on its lift, because heaven help us all if it touches the water for too long.
When I slam the door behind me, he’s across the enclosed dock doing exactly what my mother said, loading up lawn chairs in his arms. The lights in here are dim and the water below us laps at the dock. After being away for years, I can honestly say the sound of the water is the only thing I miss about this place.
His face says it all—he’s as surprised about my presence as I am. “Noah. You’re here.”
“I am,” I confirm and he sets the chairs down and starts to move around the dock but I put my hand up. “I’m here but I’m not happy about it. You and I have something to talk about.”
“Are you okay? The man you were looking for—who was looking for you—did you find him?”
“I did and it’s taken care of. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
He nods and actually seems relieved. “I’m glad. Look, I want to talk, to catch up. I really do. I’ll talk about anything you want but I need to get these chairs up for the fireworks, everyone is waiting and I was supposed to have them up earlier. Give me a hand and we’ll talk after everyone leaves.”
“I don’t give a shit about the fireworks or the chairs. I learned something this week that’s going to affect Mom, me, and you.”
He frowns.
My tone turns as rocky as our relationship has been for the last ten years. “And it’s your doing.”
* * *
Gracie
I gave Evelyn the PG version of my relationship with her son. And by PG, I mean I didn’t just cut out the sex but the violence, too.
All the while, she’s given me the VIP tour. I’ve seen Noah’s father’s office, the mudroom, their master bedroom, media room, guest rooms, and Noah’s old bedroom. It’s a shrine to Noah Jarvis. Evelyn’s pride in her son shines like a beacon over the Bay their home is situated on. I tried not to look too weird when I ran my fingers over his trophies and medals like the obsessed lover I’ve become. Evelyn framed his football jersey from when he played for Navy and his shoes still sit neatly in a row in the closet. I wonder if he knows his old life has been preserved for him and he could walk back into it as if he never left.
We’re in the observatory—or what should be more aptly named, Evelyn’s studio.
It’s the third floor of the home and all four walls are glass to take in every view and ray of sun, no matter the time of day. Canvases are scattered around the room on easels and paint dots the old hardwoods without apology.
“This is my life,” Evelyn says as she looks around the room that’s now shrouded in darkness. She looks back to me and studies me carefully. “This and Noah, even though it feels like I don’t have him anymore.”
“It’s beautiful. Noah speaks so highly of you. He’s very proud of your work.”
Her meek smile shows little belief in my words and she shakes her head. “I’d do anything if he’d stop pulling away from me and from his father. Noah and Alexander have a … tumultuous relationship. Has he filled you in on that?”
I study one of her pieces of art in progress. It looks to be the beginnings of a boat near the shore. I’m fascinated by her talent. I also don’t want to answer—it feels wrong talking about Noah, even if it is with his mother. I shrug and don’t look at her. “A little bit.”
“I know nothing about you. Do you have children?”
Well. That came out of nowhere. Counting my lucky stars, I’m grateful she can’t see my face but I’m sure she saw me flinch because that stings and I have to clear my throat to answer. “No.”
I hear her shoes on the hardwoods, bringing her closer to me. “Then you don’t know how deep a mother’s love can be. Gracie, I’ve asked—no, begged—Noah to come home for years. Even if it’s just for a visit, like this. I even pleaded with him to come today to celebrate with us. This was always a favorite holiday for him. But he turned me down in the same way he always does.” She pauses long enough and I force myself to turn only to find her regarding me with a curiosity that sends a chill down my spine. “We don’t fully know what he does for a living—what takes him away for such long periods of time. He doesn’t have a home that I know of. You and I just met, but I’m his mother and he’s my only child. I’m not too proud to tell you that I’m desperate, and desperation will push a mother to places so far out of her element, she’ll do things she’d never do. Noah won’t talk to me about anything and given his adamant stance on not coming home, his showing up here today with you is wonderful on the surface yet still suspect.”
I wet my lips and swallow since my tongue just turned to cotton. Like a carbon monoxide detector blaring in my head alerting me of an invisible menace, every nerve ending in my body is tingling, and not in a good way. Desperation doesn’t look good on anyone, especially the woman standing between me and the door.
But she’s nothing compared to what I’ve lived through in the last month and I straighten my spine. “Yes, you and I just met, but I promise you, Evelyn, I care for Noah and plan on being in his life. I love him and will fight for my place at his side, taking down anything or anyone who gets in my way. I say that to you with as much respect as I do ferocity. Whatever you’re trying to say, I suggest you lay it out and quit speaking in circles.”
If the situation weren’t as tense and I wasn’t on guard, I would have missed it, but she blinks away her shock from my words as fast as it appeared. I might be petite but my heart is huge. If I’ve proved nothing else in my life, I’m a fighter. Now that I have Noah, no one is going to stand in my way to be with him, not even his mother.
“I see.” Her lips tighten into a straight line and she squares her shoulders. With at least five inches on me, she uses every single one of them to stand tall and make her point. “I think I know why you’re here.”
Chapter 31
Fireworks
Jarvis
“Son—”
“Don’t son me. Not today and not ever again.”
My father moves to the front of the dock where I’m standing and holds his hand out low. “I don’t know what you’re talking about but if you insist on doing this now, let’s get it done. You’ve vilified me for years because I had expectations for you. I not only knew you could meet them but you obliterated them. What’s so special about today? Lay it out—after all these years, I want it out in the open.”
“Don’t put this back on me. Expectations and demands are two very different things.”
His jaw is set to hard and I suspect it’s like looking into a mirror. Only today, seeing my father for the first time since I learned of Calvin Prosk, do I understand just how strong his genes run. My half-brother has the same eyes, the same angular jawline, and his hair is just as thick, even if a shade or two lighter. As much as I didn’t want to believe it was true, there’s no way I could argue with the fact the man standing in front of me fathered an illegitimate child, even if we hadn’t confirmed it with a DNA test.
He raises his voice. “What do you want from me, Noah? I can’t do anything right by you. Tell me what you want!”
“Camilla Prosk.”
And there it is. The moment I utter her name I see it all over his face and he takes a step back.
“Millie?” His tone is as rough as a dusty, gravel road. “How do you know about her?”
“You’re shitting me,” I clip. “You’re going to play stupid?”
“No, I’m not playing stupid. You knowing her name means you know. It was a long time ago, Noah. I made a mistake and it was a long road repairing my marriage. I don’t know how you found out about it but I’m sorry you did. You were very young and we did everything we could to shield you from our issues.”
Veils: A Killers Novel, Book 4 Page 26
