Page 130 of Scandalous

We say our goodbyes and everyone finds their seats and buckles in.

Aurora squeezes my hand as she looks out the window. “Your mother is lovely.”

“Not as lovely as you,” I tell her honestly.

My phone vibrates and I look down.

Mother: She’s perfect for you boys. Don’t screw this up.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. Aurora is perfect for us and I’ll be damned if we let her slip away.

Twenty-Nine

Igroan as I pull the car to a stop in the circle driveway that’s filled with cars which can only mean one thing.

My family is here.

“Is this a shared driveway?” Aurora asks from the back seat.

I turn in the driver’s seat and shake my head. “Unfortunately no.”

“I wonder what they made this time.” Liam rubs his hands together.

“Who?” Aurora frowns.

“The Garcia family.” Drake smirks before getting out of the car.

Sighing, I get out of the car and stretch. The drive from the airport here isn’t bad, but after being confined in a plane for eight hours, I need to move.

“Do I look okay?” Aurora frets from behind me.

“Of course you do.” Ezra scoffs. “Besides, they decided they couldn’t wait a day for us to recoup before knocking on our door. That’s not on you.”

“Maybe I should take back the key I gave them.” I rub my jaw.

“Let me grab some popcorn first, buddy.” Liam slaps my shoulder as he passes.

Drake takes Aurora’s hand and pulls her toward the iron gate. Liam holds it open for them to pass through.

“Ready?” Ezra asks.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I mumble.

“First my mother and now your entire family. Aurora’s really been put through the wringer today.” He chuckles as we walk through the gate.

I go to say something but stop when I see Aurora.

Aurora turns and points. “You have a fountain.”

“Welcome to San Juan.” I smirk as I place my hand on her back.

“This place is gorgeous.” She smiles.

“Thank you.”

I look at the house and try and see it through her eyes. It’s light yellow, almost tan colored. The grass is lush and the flowers are in full bloom. As soon as I open the door, we’re greeted with loud voices and laughter that bounce off the tile floors. The home isn’t as modern as the rest of our properties, but up to date, nonetheless. It’s a home rather than a museum.

“Mijo!” my mother cheers as I walk into the kitchen.

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