LOVE AND JUST

CHAPTER 7 : I'M NOT A KID ANYMORE.

WESTBROOK COUNTRYSIDE - ( 6am )

Morning came too fast, and Caleb was the first to wake up. He got out of his room with an unpleasant expression on his face. With large strides, he made his way to the boys' room. Knocking heavily on their door, it almost broke down. His knocking woke them up.

Damien hurriedly opened the door, thinking it was an emergency.

"What happened to Eliza yesterday?" Caleb asked, standing outside the door. His voice made it clear he was furious.

Damien trembled, unable to speak. Julien and Marco stood behind him, quiet and tense.

"Are you not going to speak?" Caleb asked in the same tone.

They didn't know how to answer him because they had made sure he didn't find out about Eliza's situation last night. Or so they thought.

"She... Sh...She took wine," Julien said, stuttering.

"And then what?" Caleb yelled.

"She got drunk," he answered in a low tone and looked down in shame. He had promised to take care of her, but then things happened.

"Really, Marco?" Caleb said, with a mix of anger and disappointment in his eyes. "Didn't you promise that you would take care of her?"

Marco stood silent, his eyes still lowered.

"Huh?" Caleb wanted an answer.

"I did promise," Marco admitted.

"So what happened?" Caleb questioned.

"I left her with the girls, and she and Belle came back drunk," Marco replied, finally raising his head to meet Caleb's eyes.

Caleb said nothing but left their door. He sat in the hall, quiet, staring outside the window.

Soon Eliza was awake. She came out of her room, and reaching the hall, she saw Caleb. His face was red, and he sat still on the couch, tapping his foot on the floor.

"Good morning, brother," she greeted in her usual soft tone.

He finally turned his head to face her.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," Eliza answered.

"Are you okay?" Eliza asked him.

He didn't respond. He just looked at her quietly.

The girls came to the hall, and the boys followed. Everyone's expression spelled the same word: _Trouble_.

"What happened last night?" Caleb asked Eliza, looking at his feet and tapping his foot.

"Nothing," Eliza was lost. She didn't know she got drunk. She didn't know what her brother was so pressed about.

"Don't lie to me, Eliza," Caleb warned her, trying to stay calm.

"It was all my fault," Belle said with lowered eyes, and everyone turned to face her except Caleb, who was still on the couch.

"What do you mean?" Caleb asked. He wanted to know all about it.

"I got us wine yesterday at the club. I should have warned her that taking too much would get her drunk... But... it happened," Belle said, staring at her feet.

No one could look him in the eyes.

It was then it dawned on Eliza what she had done. The scenes of the day before started rushing into her head.

"I'm sorry," Eliza's broken voice broke the silence. She looked down, and tears streamed down her cheeks. "Belle did tell me to take it easy... I just didn't listen," she said, sobbing more.

Seeing tears in his sister's eyes made Caleb's heart ache. His voice softened.

"It's okay, Eliza. I'm not blaming you. I just want you to be safe."

"I hope no one touched her?" Caleb asked, looking at Belle and his friends.

"No, no. No one touched her," Belle said.

"Are you sure?" Caleb asked again.

"Yes. She was sitting with me the entire time," Belle assured him.

Eliza stood quietly like a kid who was being defended.

"Really? So how then did she dance if she was sitting the entire time?" Caleb asked, arching his brow.

"Dance??" Belle asked, and Eliza was surprised too.

"I didn't dance," Eliza said.

"You were drunk. You wouldn't know that," Caleb said to her.

"But I recall all that happened," she said with an innocent face.

"We didn't dance yesterday," Belle added.

Caleb turned to Damien and Marco.

"You guys said the girls were dancing," he said, looking at them.

Damien, who was scratching his neck, answered, "Yes... We actually... lied."

"Interesting," Caleb said. "Well, I'm not trusting anyone's word again."

And he left the hall.

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ASHFORD HILLS - CITYLIGHT — ( 11am )

In the big mansion with huge iron gates and security stood a three-story building. The long driveway was lined with exotic flowers. The stairs were made of marble. In the living room were leather couches and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the pool and city lights. Chandeliers hung from above, gleaming brightly.

Andrew was in his room upstairs. He sat on his king-size bed covered with velvet.

The walls were soundproof, textured grey, interrupted only by a single piece of art — abstract, probably worth six figures. A leather armchair faced the window, with a cashmere throw draped perfectly, like he never actually used it.

He sat on his bed going through his phone when a knock on his door disrupted him.

"Come in," he said.

A young, beautiful lady wearing a yellow shirt and black trousers appeared at his door. She wore round-framed glasses and had thin, pink lips. Her long black hair was held in a ponytail behind her head. She smiled when she saw him.

"Hey, Andrew," she said in her soft voice.

Andrew smiled brightly when he noticed her.

"Hilary!" he beamed and stood up from his bed. He walked toward her, and she met him halfway. At the center of the room, he hugged her tightly.

Still with a smile on his face, he asked, "How are you doing?"

Still in his arms, she answered, "I'm okay. What about you?"

"As good as ever," he replied, straightening her hair with his hands.

It took an eternity for them to break the hug.

"I can see your job is treating you well," she said, looking at his grinning face.

"Not so well... I'm managing," Andrew said.

"Look at you, acting so mature. Just yesterday you were running around this house and—" he teased.

Hilary was his younger sister. She was mature, of course. She was 25. Andrew was only two years older than her, but he always treated her like a kid. She was a good doctor — one of the women in their family who was so diligent and determined. She worked in their neighboring city, so she barely visited home. She only came home when she was on leave. Now she was home to see her family.

"I'm not a kid anymore," Hilary pouted.

"Yes, you are, my dear," Andrew said, tapping her pointed nose.

"Have you seen Mom already?" he asked as they walked out of the room.

"No. Dora said she went to the spa," Hilary answered.

"Mom and her spa sessions. She never misses any," Andrew said with a chuckle. Mrs. Rachel loved looking pretty. She was always doing her skincare routines.

"Are you hungry? I can make you something," he asked her.

"Yes, please. I've really missed your cooking," Hilary answered with a grin.

"Let's head to the kitchen then."

They both strolled downstairs, talking about random stuff, and went to the kitchen. It was huge and well stocked.

The kitchen was more gallery than kitchen.

Floor-to-ceiling cabinets in matte taupe, with no handles. You had to push them, and they glided open on their own.

The centerpiece was a massive island — marble on one half for pastry, butcher block on the other for chopping. Above it hung a trio of antique brass pendants and a rack with copper pans.

Andrew pulled an apron from behind the door and put it on.

"What should I make for you?" Andrew asked as Dora entered the kitchen.

"Young master, would you like to eat something? I can prepare it for you?" Dora asked with a smile on her face. She was one of Mrs. Rachel's favorite cooks. She'd been working there for years.

"No, Dora. I will handle this myself. I want to make my sister a delicious meal. You know I'm a good cook, and she loves my cooking," Andrew said boastfully, which got Dora laughing.

"Okay, sir. If you say so," she said with a little bow and left.

"I would like to eat some noodles. Yours is the best," Hilary said, taking an apple from the centerpiece.

"Anything, your royal highness," Andrew said dramatically.

When the kitchen was quiet, Hilary asked, "How's she?"

"Who?" Andrew asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Your girl," Hilary said simply.

"Freddie? She's good," Andrew replied. Alfreda wasn't his girlfriend, but his family knew her well, and everyone thought they had something going on. Or maybe they would, as time went on.

"Hey! You just reminded me. I need to meet her at the office today!" he exclaimed. "I nearly forgot that."

He took off the apron. "I'm sorry, dear. Freda and I have got some work at the office. I need to go and prepare." He said to Hilary with pleading eyes.

"You're missing your woman already?" Hilary teased.

Andrew chuckled when he realized it didn't bother her.

"I'm leaving. Inform Mom when she gets back," he said and left the kitchen.

Hilary was left alone in the kitchen, looking around.

"Do you want to cook?" she asked herself, staring at her wide-spread fingers, asking them as though they were human.

"Nope. Not today," she replied to herself and went out of the kitchen to find Dora.

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