As I rolled the window of my mother's new car up and down, I couldn't stop thinking about what awaited me in the next infernal year ahead. I still couldn't stop asking myself how we had ended up like this, leaving our house, our home, to cross the entire country all the way to California. It had been three months since I'd received the fatal news, the same news that would completely change my life, the same news that made me want to cry at night, the same news that made me beg and rant like an eleven-year-old instead of a seventeen-year-old.
But what could I do? I wasn't an adult yet, I still had eleven months, three weeks, and two days left until I turned eighteen and could finally leave for college — far away from parents who only thought about themselves, far away from those strangers I was going to have to live with just because. From now on, I was going to have to share my life with two completely unknown people and, to make it worse, two men.
"Can you stop doing that? You're making me nervous," my mother said as she put the keys in the ignition and started the car.
"Lots of things you do make me nervous, and I have to put up with them," I snapped back. The loud sigh that followed had become so routine that it didn't even surprise me anymore.
But how could she force me like this? Didn't she care about my feelings? Of course she did, she had told me so herself while we were leaving behind my beloved town of Toronto in Canada. I still couldn't believe that we were never going to live alone again; it was strange. It had been seven years since my parents had separated, and it hadn't been a conventional or pleasant separation. It had been one of the most traumatic divorces imaginable, but I had managed to get through it… or at least I was still trying to. Living alone with my mother had given me a peace of mind that would be shattered the moment we arrived at what was supposed to be my new house.
I was someone who struggled a lot to adapt to change. Being around strangers terrified me. I wasn't exactly shy, but I was very private with my personal life, and the idea of having to share my twenty-four hours a day with two people I barely knew gave me such anxiety that I felt like I was going to throw up right there in the car.
"I still don't understand why you won't let me live at home," I said, trying to convince her for what must have been at least the tenth time since we'd left yesterday morning. "I'm not a kid, I know how to take care of myself, and besides, next year I'll be in college and I'll be living alone anyway… it's the same thing," I insisted, knowing I was completely right.
"I'm not going to miss your last year of high school, and I'm going to enjoy my daughter before you leave for college. Noah, I've told you a thousand times, I want you to be part of this new family, you are my daughter, for God's sake. Do you really think I'm going to let you live in another country with no adult and so far from where I am?" she replied, keeping her eyes on the road and waving her right hand for emphasis.
My mother didn't understand how hard all of this was for me. She was beginning a new life with a new husband who supposedly loved her, but what about me?
"You don't get it, Mom, have you even stopped to think that this is also my last year of high school? That I have all my friends there, my job, my team…? My whole life, Mom!" I shouted, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. This whole situation was too much for me, that was obvious. I never — and I repeat, never — cried in front of anyone. Crying was for weak people, for those who couldn't control what they felt, or in my case, for those who had cried so much in their lives that they had decided never to shed another tear again.
Those thoughts reminded me how all this craziness had started, and as always, my head filled with regret for not having gone with my mother on that damn Caribbean cruise. Because it was there, on that boat in the middle of nowhere, that she had met the incredible and enigmatic William Leister.
If I could go back in time, I wouldn't hesitate for even a second to say yes to my mother when she showed up in mid-April with two tickets for a vacation. It had been a gift from her best friend Alicia, who had suffered a car accident and broken her right leg, one arm, and two ribs. Obviously, she couldn't go to the Fiji Islands with her husband, so she gave the tickets to my mom.
But seriously… mid-April? At that time, I was taking my final exams and right in the middle of my volleyball matches. My team had placed first after being in second place for as long as I could remember. It had been one of the happiest moments of my life, but now, looking back at the consequences of not going on that trip, I would have given the trophy back, quit the team, and I wouldn't have even minded failing Literature and Spanish if it meant avoiding that marriage.
Getting married on a boat! My mother was completely crazy! And on top of that, they got married without telling me anything. I found out when she came back, and she told me so casually, as if marrying a millionaire in the middle of the ocean was the most normal thing in the world. This entire situation was surreal. I was leaving my tiny apartment in one of the coldest places in Canada to move to a mansion in California, USA. It wasn't even my country, even though my mother had been born in Texas and my father in Colorado. But still, I liked Canada. I had been born there, it was all I knew…
"Noah, you know I want the best for you," my mother said, pulling me back to reality. "You know what I've been through, what we've been through, and I've finally found a good man who loves me and respects me, and I haven't been this happy in such a long time… I need him, and I know you'll grow to love him too. Besides, he can offer you a future I never could have imagined giving you."
"My high school in Toronto was really good," I said with a sigh, thinking about how happy my mom looked. I hadn't seen her this cheerful, this excited in years. She was like a different person, and I was glad for her, but I didn't know if I would be able to adapt to such a radical change in my life.
"One of the best… public high schools, Noah," my mom clarified. "Now you'll be able to attend one of the best schools in the country, and you'll have the chance to get into the best universities…"
"But I don't want to go to one of those universities, Mom, and I don't want a stranger to pay for it either," I said, shuddering at the thought that in a month I'd be starting school at some fancy prep academy full of rich kids.
"He's not a stranger, he's my husband, so you'd better start getting used to the idea," she added in a sharper tone.
"I'm never going to get used to it," I replied, turning my gaze away from her face and focusing on the road ahead.
"Well, you're going to have to, because we've arrived," she said, making me sit up straight, my nerves on edge and a strange sensation in my stomach. "This is your new neighborhood."
I focused my eyes on the tall palm trees and the streets that separated the extraordinarily large and impressive mansions. Each house took up at least half a block, and each was different from the others. Some were in English style, some Victorian, and many had a modern look, with glass walls and immense gardens filled with fountains and flowers. My mother drove as if she had lived here her whole life, and I began to panic more and more as the houses grew bigger and bigger the farther we went.
Finally, we arrived at a three-meter-high gate, and as if it were nothing, my mom took a small remote control from the glove compartment, pressed a button, and the massive gates began to open. She started the car again, and we went down a driveway surrounded by gardens and tall pine trees that filled the air with a pleasant smell of summer and sea.
"The house isn't as high up as the others in the neighborhood, and that's why we have the best view of the beach," she said with a wide smile. I turned toward her and looked at her as if I didn't recognize her. Didn't she realize what surrounded us? Didn't she understand this was way too much for us?
I didn't have time to say these thoughts out loud because we finally arrived at the house. Only two words came to mind:
OH. MY. GOD.
The house was completely white, with tall sand-colored roofs. It had at least three floors, but it was hard to tell since there were so many terraces, windows, so much of everything… There was an impressive porch facing us, and since it was already past seven in the evening, the lights were on, giving the building a dreamy look. Outside, the sun was about to set, and the sky was painted with many colors, contrasting beautifully with the immaculate white of the house. The huge shutters on the porch had to be at least seven meters high, and the entrance — with its massive central fountain shooting jets of water from a thousand different places — was breathtaking.
My mom turned off the car after circling the fountain and parking in front of the steps that led to the main door. My first impression as I got out was that I had just arrived at the most luxurious hotel in all of California — except it wasn't a hotel, it was a house… supposedly a home. Or at least that's what my mom wanted me to believe.
As soon as I got out of the car, William Leister appeared at the door. Behind him were three men dressed like penguins who quickly approached us.
My mother's new husband wasn't dressed like I had seen him in the few times I had bothered to be in the same room with him. Instead of a suit or expensive vests, he was wearing white shorts and a light blue polo shirt. His feet were in beach sandals, and his dark hair was messy instead of combed back. I had to admit that I could understand what my mother had seen in him. The man was very attractive. He was tall, much taller than my mother, and she was already a little over one seventy. He was well taken care of — clearly went to the gym — and his face was quite elegant, though it bore the marks of age. He had deep lines on his forehead and around his mouth, and his black hair was already flecked with gray, which gave him an interesting, mature air.
He greeted us with a big smile and came down the steps to hug my mother, who ran up to him like a schoolgirl. I took my time, got out of the car, and headed to the trunk to get my things.
Gloved hands suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and I jumped back in shock.
"I'll get your things, miss," said one of the penguin-dressed men.
"I can do it myself, thanks," I replied, feeling really uncomfortable.
The man looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Let Pret help you, Noah," said William Leister behind me.
I reluctantly let go of my suitcase and turned toward the happy couple walking toward me.
"I'm very glad to see you, Noah," my mother's husband said, smiling warmly at me. Next to him, my mom kept making faces, signaling me to behave, smile, or say something.
"I can't say the same," I replied, extending my hand for him to shake. I knew what I had just done was incredibly rude, but at that moment, it felt right to tell the truth.
I wanted to make it perfectly clear where I stood on this new chapter of our lives.
William didn't seem offended and stepped forward to take my hand between both of his. He held it a little longer than necessary, and I instantly felt uncomfortable.
"I know this is a very sudden change for you, Noah, but I want you to feel at home, to enjoy what I can offer you, but above all, to be able to accept me as part of your family… at some point," he added, probably after seeing my incredulous expression. My mother's blue eyes were practically burning holes through me.
All I could do was nod and pull back so that he would release my hand. I didn't like that kind of affection, especially from someone who was still a stranger to me. My mom had gotten married, good for her, but that man would never be anything to me — not a father, not a stepfather, not anything remotely close. I already had a father, and that had been more than enough.
"How about we show you the house?" he said with a big smile, oblivious to my coldness and bad mood.
"Come on, Noah," my mother said, linking her arm with mine. It wasn't friendly at all — quite the opposite — and that way, I had no choice but to walk by her side.
The house lights were on, so I didn't miss a single detail of this mansion that was far too big even for a family of twenty… let alone one of four. The ceilings were high, with wooden beams and huge windows looking outside. There was a grand staircase in the center of a massive living room that split into two directions at the top floor. My mother and her husband showed me around the entire mansion — the enormous living room with a TV that must have been a thousand inches (if such a thing even existed), the huge kitchen with an island that I assumed my mother would love since, unlike me, she loved cooking.
This house had everything: a gym, a heated pool, rooms for parties, and a giant library that impressed me the most. I loved reading, so I was stunned when I saw those enormous shelves with thousands and thousands of books.
"Your mother told me you love reading and writing," William said, pulling me from my daze.
"Like thousands of other people in this country," I replied sharply. His kindness irritated me. I didn't want him to talk to me, simple as that. I would have preferred if he had just ignored me.
"Noah," my mother said, locking eyes with me. I knew I was making her uncomfortable, but too bad. I was going to have a miserable year, and there was nothing I could do about it.
William seemed completely oblivious to the silent battle between us and never lost his smile.
I sighed, frustrated and uncomfortable. This was all too much — too different, too extravagant… I didn't know if I was going to be able to get used to living in a place like this.
Suddenly, I felt the need to be alone. I needed time to process everything.
"I'm tired, can I go to what's going to be my room?" I said, my voice a little less harsh this time.
"Of course, it was a very long trip. You'll want to freshen up and get comfortable," William said as we left the library and headed toward the stairs.
"The right side of the second floor is where your room and Nicholas's are. There's a big lounge with a home theater and all kinds of electronics. You can invite whoever you want to hang out there, Nick won't mind. From now on, you'll be sharing the game room too."
The game room? Seriously? I forced a smile, trying not to think about the fact that from now on, I was going to have to live with William's son as well. I didn't know him, only what my mom had told me — that he was twenty-one, studying at the University of California, played American football, and was an unbearable spoiled brat. Okay, I had added that last part myself, but it was probably true.
As we went up the stairs, I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that from now on, I would be living with two strange men. It had been ten years since the last time a man — my father — had lived in my house. I had gotten used to living with just girls, just the two of us. Living with my mom had never been easy, especially during my first seven years of life; the problems with my dad had marked both of our lives, just as they had for thousands of people who go through a divorce, whether adults or children.
After my father left, my mom and I carried on. Little by little, we managed to live together like two normal people, and as I grew up, my mother became one of my best friends. She wasn't strict or controlling at all. She gave me the freedom I wanted, precisely because she trusted me — and I trusted her… at least until she decided to throw our lives overboard.
"This is your room," my mother said, stopping in front of a dark wooden door. My door was located at the beginning of a long hallway, with two more doors on the opposite wall, although they were quite far from mine.
I looked at my mother's face and then at William's. They were both smiling, expectant…
"Can I come in?" I asked sarcastically when she didn't move aside.
"This room is my personal gift to you, Noah," my mom said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
I looked at her cautiously, and as soon as she stepped aside, I carefully opened the door, afraid of what I might find inside.
The first thing that hit me was the delicious smell of daisies and the ocean. My eyes immediately landed on the wall opposite the door, which was entirely made of glass. The view was so breathtaking that I was speechless for the first time. I could see the entire ocean from where I was standing. The house must have been perched on top of a cliff, because all I could see was the sea and the stunning sunset that was happening at that very moment. It was breathtaking.
"Oh my God," I repeated — it had quickly become my new favorite phrase. My eyes kept wandering across the room. It was huge. On the left wall, there was a four-poster bed with thousands of white pillows that matched the light blue color of the walls. The furniture — which included a desk with a giant Mac computer, a beautiful couch, a vanity with a mirror, and a massive bookshelf with all my books — was painted in shades of white and blue. Those colors combined with the breathtaking view before me made it the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life.
And to be honest… I was thrilled, though also overwhelmed. Was all this really for me?
"Do you like it?" my mom asked behind me.
"It's incredible… thank you," I said, feeling grateful but at the same time uncomfortable, as if I'd been bought.
"I have been working with a professional decorator for almost two weeks... I wanted you to have everything you had always wanted and that I was never able to give you," she told me, excited. I watched her for a few moments and knew that I could not complain about this... A room like this is the dream of any teenager and also of any mother.
I walked up to her and hugged her. It had been at least three months since I had had any kind of physical contact with her, and I knew that this was important for my mother.
"Thank you, Noah," she said in my ear so that only I could hear her. "I swear to you I am going to do everything I can to make you happy."
"I will be fine, Mom," I answered, knowing that what I was saying was not in her hands but in mine.
My mother let go of me, wiped away one of the tears that had slid down her cheek, and stood next to her new husband.
"They'll leave you to settle in," William said kindly.
I nodded without thanking him at all. Everything in this room didn't mean any effort for him. It was just money.
After that, they left, leaving me alone. I closed the door and noticed there was no lock. I felt a sudden relief and stepped aside to keep exploring what would from now on be my refuge. The floor was made of light-colored wood, but in some places, like under my bed and near the glass window wall, there was a white rug so thick you could practically sleep on it. I took off my flip-flops and slid my feet across its softness.
I sighed with pleasure while I caressed the softness of my bed and walked toward one of the doors in the room. When I entered, I loved seeing the private bathroom that was just for me. It didn't surprise me at all, not in a house of this size, and I loved knowing I wouldn't have to share a bathroom with a twenty-year-old guy I didn't even know. The bathroom was as big as my old bedroom and had a hydro-massage shower, a bathtub, and two individual sinks.
What intrigued and worried me was that the front wall, just like in my bedroom, was made of glass. I wasn't planning on getting undressed there knowing that anyone down on the first floor who looked up could see me naked. I walked closer to the wall and peeked outside.
Sure enough, down there was the back garden of the house, and after being impressed once again at seeing the enormous pool and the gardens with flowers and palm trees, I went back to my main concern — that they would be able to see me naked.
Then I saw the little button next to the bathtub. I pressed it, and little by little the bathroom glass began to change color… it became darker, but you could still fully enjoy the incredible outside view. I smiled when I realized that by pressing that button, no one outside could see me… unlike me, of course.
I left the bathroom and then noticed the small doorless frame in the wall opposite the bathroom. Oh my God… a walk-in closet.
I crossed the room almost running and entered the dream of any woman, teenager, or little girl. I had a walk-in closet, and not just an empty one but one full of brand-new clothes. I let out the air I had been holding in and started running my fingers over the incredible clothes hanging there and folded on the shelves. They all had tags on them, and it only took me seeing the price on one to realize how expensive they were.
My mother was crazy — or whoever had convinced her to spend all that money on rags to wear. I mean, let's make one thing clear… I was completely freaking out and couldn't believe I had all of those things for myself, but deep down I couldn't shake that uncomfortable feeling that nothing about this was real; and worst of all, I wished with all my might to wake up because this wasn't my life, this wasn't what I wanted… I wished with all my strength to go back to my house.
I felt such a knot in my stomach and such anguish inside that I let myself slide down between the shoes and the dresses; I rested my head on my knees and breathed deeply as many times as I needed until the urge to cry disappeared.
After my little crisis, I went to my suitcases, which they had brought to my room before I even arrived, and quickly grabbed some shorts and a simple T-shirt. I didn't want to change who I was, and I wasn't going to start dressing in branded polos and Ralph Lauren pants.
With my clothes ready, I got into the shower, washing off all the dirt and discomfort from the long trip we had taken. I dried my hair with the hair dryer that was there and was grateful that I wasn't one of those girls who have to do a hundred things just to make their hair look okay. Luckily, I had inherited my mother's wavy hair, and that's how it looked as soon as I finished drying it.
I dressed in what I had chosen and decided to take a walk around the house — and also to look for a snack.
It felt strange to walk around there alone… I felt like a complete stranger, and I was afraid of running into someone and having them give me a dirty look. It was going to take me a long time to get used to living there, but especially to the luxury and vastness of that place.
In my old apartment, it was enough to speak just a little louder than normal for us to hear each other — it didn't matter if I was in the kitchen and my mother was in her room. Our home was so small that it only took that to communicate. Here that was completely impossible. Even if I shouted, no one would hear me with so many rooms and hallways and living rooms and stairs… ugh. It was overwhelming.
After wandering around the ground floor, I headed toward the kitchen, praying I wouldn't get lost. My mother and her husband had disappeared. I had only run into a woman dressed in a white apron and black uniform, very similar to the two men who had greeted us at the entrance a few hours ago.
It felt strange to have people working for me, cleaning my things and making me food. I hoped my mother would still take care of the cooking; she had always loved it, and I loved how she cooked.
A few minutes later I reached my destination. I was starving, I desperately needed some junk food in my system. Unfortunately, when I went in, I wasn't alone.
Someone was rummaging through the refrigerator; I could only see the top of a dark-haired head, and just when I was about to say something, a deafening bark made me scream ridiculously — just like little girls do.
I spun around, startled, toward the source of the noise just as the head in the fridge popped up to see who was making such a fuss.
Right next to the kitchen island was a beautiful black dog staring at me like he wanted to eat me piece by piece. If I wasn't mistaken, it was a Labrador, but I couldn't be sure.
My eyes shifted from the dog to the boy right next to him.
I looked with curiosity and at the same time amazement at who must surely be William's son, Nicholas Leister. The first thing that came to my mind when I saw him was — those eyes!
They were sky blue, as clear as the walls of my room, and they contrasted dramatically with his jet-black hair, which was messy and damp with sweat. Apparently, he had just finished working out because he was wearing shorts and a loose tank top.
God, he was very handsome — that had to be admitted — but I didn't let those thoughts make me forget who was standing in front of me. He was my new stepbrother, the person I would have to live with for this year of torture…
And I didn't like it at all.
"You're Nicholas, right?" I asked, trying to control my fear of the damn dog that wouldn't stop growling at me in a spine-chilling way.
He surprised and annoyed me by glancing at the dog and smiling.
"The very same," he said, fixing his eyes on me again. "You must be the daughter of my father's new wife," he said, and I couldn't believe he said it in such an impersonal way.
I squinted my eyes at him.
"Your name was…?" he asked, and I couldn't help opening my eyes in astonishment and disbelief.
He didn't know my name? Our parents had gotten married, my mother and I had moved in — and he didn't even know what I was called?
"Noah," I said sharply. "My name is Noah."