Mr. Lone Boy /BoyxBoy/

||Twenty-five||

The following day, I drove to my parents' house. It was time we had a proper conversation.

I jogged up the few steps to the front door after parking my car, hesitating slightly before I pressed my thumb against the doorbell.

The door opened just as I began tapping my feet, hands in my pockets just as I started second guessing.

"Hello, Sir," the maid greeted me, a professional smile on her face.

I politely smiled back. "Are my parents home?"

"You just missed your father," she said. "But your mother is resting inside."

I nodded, stepping inside the familiar air. I inhaled the same rich scent of wood, and a hint of cinnamon spice.

"Would you like me to show you to the living room?"

I shook my head. "I remember where it is."

The maid flushed and scurried away before I could say anything else.

I scanned the first floor, from the round table at the landing and the chandelier to the wide windows that gave a great view of the garden at the back.

I didn't particularly miss the place, but I did miss what I could have had. What the child would soon have.

My heart clenched and I finally tore my gaze away from the garden, almost overwhelmed from the memories it gave off. The endless birthday parties, charity events, they all came back to me and I shuddered. I definitely did not want that back in my life. All the expectations, the business man's son. The boy who would have to take over the company soon.

I shook the thoughts away and finally moved towards the living room.

My mother sat at a couch, a book in her hands. No one else could pull off elegant-casual like she could.

She flipped a page just as I stepped in, and she finally looked up.

Her eyebrows raised a little and she put the book away before straightening up.

"Nate, I wasn't expecting you."

I swallowed. "Just thought I'd drop by."

"Of course," she said. "Sit."

I took a seat, staring down at my shoes.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

She smiled. "Are you still addicted?"

"It's not an addiction."

"Of course," she said, but it was obvious she didn't believe me. I could see the little glitter in her eyes.

I huffed to myself and took the cup from her hand with a quiet thank you.

"Where's dad?" I asked after taking a sip.

"Working as usual."

I rolled my eyes. "And you expect me to believe you when you say you're changing."

My mother shook her head. "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it?"

She sighed, smoothening down invisible creases on her skirt. "He is looking for better assistance. Your father has always been independent and I'm sure you've noticed, so he never thought to ask for more help. With the baby on the way..." 

"Why couldn't he have done that when I was a baby," I said, cringing when I realized how selfish it sounded.

My mother answered anyway. "We were young and foolish. We didn't expect you so early and we panicked."