“This is the formal dining room,” she was saying, “though we’re thinking of knocking out that wall for more space.”
One of the women gasped. “Oh, it’s beautiful. You guys are so lucky.”
Amelia beamed. “Yeah, it’s our new place. Finally upgraded.”
I stood frozen in the doorway, takeout bag still in hand.
No one noticed me at first.
Then someone, Nathan, walked out from the hallway, saw me, and smirked.
Not smiled, smirked.
“Well, well, look who’s here.”
I didn’t say anything at first, just scan the room again, like maybe I had walked into the wrong house.
But no, there was the photo of mom and dad on the mantle. There was the ceramic rooster mom had owned since I was a kid, now perched above the kitchen cabinets.
My jaw clenched.
“Where’s mom?” I asked.
Nathan shrugged. “She’s around.”
I walked past him down the hall toward the laundry room.
The door was slightly a jar, and inside I found her.
Mom sitting on a small folding stool, eyes red, hands in her lap. The dryer was running, muffling the noise from the party.
She looked up when she saw me, startled.
“Spencer.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, setting down the food. “Why are you in here?”
She hesitated. Her mouth opened, then closed.
Finally, she whispered, “It’s just easier this way.”
I didn’t understand.
“Easier how?”
But before she could answer, Dad walked by through the garage door, rubbing his eyes like he just woke up.
He didn’t notice me at first. Then he saw the food, saw me, and froze.
“Dad, were you sleeping in the garage?”
Another pause. Another tight-lipped smile.
“It’s cooler out there,” he muttered.
Something snapped inside me.
I turned on my heel and stormed back into the living room. The women were laughing again. Amelia was showing off the pantry. Nathan had a beer in hand.
I walked straight to the center of the room, pulled the deed out of my jacket pocket because yes, I had brought it, thinking I might finally change the name over officially, and held it up.
“Just so we’re clear,” I said loudly enough to silence the room. “This house belongs to mom and dad. Not you, not your wife, and definitely not your little real estate tour group.”
Every face turned to look at me.
Dead silence.
And Nathan.
Nathan just looked at me with that same smirk and said, “It’s only fair we get it now. They’ve had their turn.”
I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I just stared at him.
And that’s when everything changed.
I stood there in the middle of the living room, the deed in my hand, the weight of it suddenly heavier than I’d ever imagined.
The silence stretched longer than it should have. One of the women coughed awkwardly. Another shifted her wine glass from one hand to the other.
But all I could hear was the distant hum of the dryer down the hall and the dull thump of my own heartbeat in my ears.
Nathan didn’t flinch. That smirk stayed glued to his face like it was stitched on.
He didn’t look surprised to see me. He didn’t look embarrassed or nervous or caught.
He looked amused like I was a child stomping into the middle of his birthday party demanding attention.
And somehow that was worse than if he’d just gotten defensive or angry.
“It’s only fair we get it now,” he repeated, this time with a lazy shrug. “They’ve had their turn.”
I turned slowly, scanning the room.
Amelia wouldn’t meet my eye.
One of her friends, a woman with two perfect eyebrows and a designer handbag slung over her shoulder, gave me a once over like I was the rude one for interrupting their wine and tour hour.
“I bought this house for them,” I said, quieter now. But every word was sharper. “They didn’t ask for it. They didn’t expect it. I did it because I wanted them to have something good, something safe.”
“You.” I turned to Nathan. “You had nothing to do with it.”
He tilted his head slightly like he was humoring me.
“And yet here we are.”
It was the smuggness that’s what did it. Not the entitlement. Not even the blatant hijacking of the house.