CLARA
Since I don’t have any friends here—thanks to the boring and rigid life I led in Hampton with my parents back in the day—I decided to invite Xavier and Damien over for dinner. Why? Because Xavier is my brother and, well, Damien helped me find this house.
At exactly eight o’clock in the evening, Xavier showed up, punctual as ever, holding a bottle of wine. Then, thirty minutes later, Damien arrived, also bearing a bottle of wine.
When I opened the door for Damien, he flashed his rare, dimpled smile, which instantly made me smile too. Handing me the bottle of wine, he asked, “Did you receive the delivery?”
Nodding, I gestured for him to come inside. “I expected anything but a security system,” I said with a chuckle, shaking my head at the memory. Earlier, when the men showed up and
