Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
But Jackie Wilde was like that. She did what was best for her. She didn’t give a rat’s ass what it meant to anyone else, including her very gay son and gay fathers.
Doc reached out and squeezed my shoulder with a large, warm hand. “We worry about you, Felix. You sure you don’t want us to come with you? I’m a pretty good note-taker.”
I snorted. “You have typical doctor’s handwriting.”
Grandpa let out a laugh. “He’s good at rubbing tired feet.”
I put my finger to my chin as if contemplating it. “Hmm, now that bears consideration.” I winked at my aunt before continuing. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m actually excited to be by myself. I’m going to a place I’ve only ever dreamed about to study my absolute favorite topic. I promise I won’t spend time wallowing in bed. I’ll be sketching and photographing as many of the windows and glass pieces as they’ll let me, and taking copious notes. If anyone came with me, they’d be bored out of their minds. Not to mention frozen solid.”
“Promise me you’ll let yourself experience new things, Felix,” Doc said. His face was kind and full of affection.
“I will,” I promised.
“Sex things,” Grandpa added in a teasing voice. “Don’t be afraid to live a little, Fee.”
I felt my face heat up. “Jesus, Grandpa. I’m going to an island in the North Sea in the middle of winter to study stained glass. It’s hardly a club in Amsterdam.”
Doc put his arm around my shoulders and leaned his head in as if imparting critical wisdom.
“What happens in Gadleigh stays in Gadleigh. Go have an adventure. You deserve it.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” I said, mostly to get them off my back about it. The topic of my love life was one I studiously avoided, primarily because it consisted of a big fat goose egg.
Once my family dropped the subject, I realized I must have done a better job faking confidence than I truly felt. To be honest, I was terrified.
I’d never been so far from home, much less by myself.
As a child, I’d been toted around Hollywood by my young, unmarried mother. Always sitting in waiting rooms or lobbies while she auditioned until she finally got her big break and decided having a kid was crimping her style.
I was nine when I came to live with Grandpa and Doc in little Hobie, Texas. By then, I’d visited a few times and was familiar enough with my grandfathers and their ranch to know I’d enjoy living with them a million times more than in the tiny one-room apartment in Los Angeles with my mom.
It wasn’t until much later I learned some of those lobbies I’d sat in were for porn production companies, and my mom hadn’t brought me to Hobie voluntarily. Doc and Grandpa had found out what was going on and demanded custody of me.
Since then, the only time I’d been out of Texas was when my mom had tried to lure me back to California as a teenager. After only three months in LA, I’d discovered she only wanted me with her because the man she was dating at the time was casting the next big teen film. My mother had mistakenly assumed that my DNA and looks would be enough to get me the part. Once the callback hadn’t materialized, she’d thrown a massive fit and shipped me right back to Hobie.
So that was it. The sum total of my travel adventures. Los Angeles; my hometown of Hobie; Austin, where I’d gotten my undergrad and master’s degrees at the University of Texas; and Denton, where I’d begun my doctorate program at the University of North Texas two years ago. Now I was preparing to fly to Europe.
Alone.
Chapter 3
Lio
Once my father had woken up later in the day, he immediately began voicing his opinions and bossing the rest of us around. When my mom insisted on sending me away for some time to reflect on my upcoming reign, my father suggested heading to the hunting cottage a few hours away.
I shuddered at the reminder of how little he knew about me. My father hadn’t exactly been the parental type. He’d been old-school, leaving the raising of the children to my mother and a team of professional nannies and tutors. I’d never really blamed him for being hands-off. I’d assumed it came from long-standing tradition rather than a lack of love on his part, and part of me had known he loved me just fine in his own way.
So when he suggested his favorite hideaway, I tried to see it as a gift.
“You’ll love it there,” my father said. “Fresh air will clear your head. Prepare you to come back strong and ready to lead.”
Instead of correcting him about my chosen location for a hideaway, I simply nodded before meeting my mother’s eyes across the room.