Descent (Black Heart Romance)

So, that answers that.

___

When the car pulls up outside of Calvin’s family home, it’s a much different sight than when we went home to mine.

His home is immaculate, there’s no other word for it. It’s a sprawling brick mansion gently accented with ivy, with black shuttered windows and a driveway so large, it’s more of a road. There’s an elaborate hedge maze out front with a fountain rising up out of the center.

Hollis enters the driveway and drives up toward the house. I look right, at the maze and the well-manicured grounds that seem to go on forever. I look left, at the picture perfect mansion that somehow keeps the warmth of a home despite its grandeur.

“This place is amazing,” I say, looking around as I step out of the limo.

Calvin steps out and looks around, too, but he looks decidedly less impressed. His hand comes to rest lightly on my waist. “I’m glad you like it.”

He offers his hand and I take it, feeling a little out of my depths.

His parents don’t greet us at the door like my mom did. Calvin opens the door and gestures for me to go in ahead of him.

The house opens up and greets us with cream-colored walls and a staircase to the right. Beside it there’s an archway leading to another room, and a cozy little bench with cream-colored cushions. A bright, regal receiving room flooded with sunshine form the enormous windows waits ahead of us, but there are no people in it.

Calvin takes my hand to lead me through it. Once we’re past the accent table in the center of the room, I realize what I thought were windows are actually doors. Calvin pushes them open and we step out onto a gray stone terrace that wraps around the back of the house. It’s a well kept area that seems to be for entertaining. We pass an elaborate grilling area and a dining table with an umbrella over it. Past that there’s a rectangular fire pit—not an actual fire pit you’d throw logs on, the kind where the flames dance above a bed of smooth stones.

Calvin’s parents are seated on the couch back here waiting for us. While they haven’t noticed them yet, I take a quick look.

His mom is a slender woman in a butter yellow dress. Her leg is crossed over her knee, very ladylike, and she wears a white heel that appears to be from the 1950s. She’s wearing sunglasses and a sun hat and sipping lemonade as she smiles at the man across from her.

I would have known he was Calvin’s father even if he hadn’t told me. He could be a handsome man, in fact, I bet he was once, but he seems to have soured with age. I wonder why? From the sounds of Calvin’s story, it’s not as if the man ever denies himself anything.

His mom notices us first. She gasps and puts down her lemonade so she can stand.

“Oh, Calvin!” Her face lights up with the radiance of a thousand suns and I know, without question, this is a woman who adores her son.

Calvin smiles back, opening an arm so he can hug her when she gets to him.

“Oh, my goodness,” she says excitedly as she pulls back and shifts her gaze to me without letting go of him. “This must be Hallie. Oh, you’re absolutely gorgeous. Look at the two of you.” Then she lets go of him and grabs me for a hug, too.

“Oh, thank you,” I say, laughing a little because she took me off guard. “You’re so pretty, too. I can see where Calvin gets his good looks from.”

That’s a bold-faced lie; she is beautiful, but Calvin is a carbon copy of his father, just not ruined by… whatever has caused that man to look so repellent, despite being so technically handsome.

Maybe that’s it. I had the thought earlier that Calvin is gorgeous to look at, it’s the inside that’s a bit off-putting. Maybe somewhere over the years, his father cracked, and all that poison leaked out and ruined him.

The Cutler curse. Maybe it won’t happen to Calvin now that he has me to share that unpalatable side of himself with.

“Let me see this,” she says with a conspiratorial look, grabbing my left hand so she can look at the ring. “Oh, isn’t that beautiful.” She looks over her shoulder. “Peter, come see Hallie’s ring.”

I look over at Calvin. “You’re right, your mother is amazing.”

He smiles, and the woman’s eyes sparkle with happiness to hear her son has apparently spoken so highly of her.

His dad, on the other hand, moves over our happy little gathering with all the cheer of a storm cloud. He joins us, but reluctantly.

Nodding stiffly at Calvin, he says, “I see you’re doing well.”

“Very well.”

Because he’s expected to and his lovely wife encourages him to do so, he looks at my ring. “Looks expensive.”