Julian
I was rarely nervous about anything, but watching Ruby survey my personal domain had me anxious. It had been a while since a woman other than my mother was in my home and Ruby's opinion mattered to me.
“Well, this is it," I said. “This is where I supposedly live."
“Supposedly?" She laughed.
“I'm usually crashing at hotels in different cities." I shrugged. “Now that I think about it, this," I waved a hand to encompass the mixture of modern and traditional space, “is probably a waste of money."
“But what a beautiful waste it is," she gushed. “Your home is lovely and so warm and … normal.
“You mean compared to the Thornes' all-white psychiatric ward?"
“Julian," she scolded. “That's not nice."
“Now you sound like my mother." I smirked. “Admit it, that's what that place reminds
