There was nothing more reassuring that he was home than a firm handshake from his father and a warm hug from his mother. Being away for so long, months of travel and selling homes in other states, he had almost forgot where he belonged at all. Weston wasn’t away simply because his mother had sent him off with a list of gorgeous homes to swindle people into buying, she had only given him the list because he needed to take his mind off of the happenings around him. Still, coming home was an ease on his shoulders, stress falling away and relief lighting his mother’s eyes as he passed through the threshold. Before he had even thought of going to his empty home he had shot straight to the one he grew up in. The one of the only two people in the world that believed in him enough to take him in and raise him. Of course his father had gave him a firm pat on the back, telling him how great of a salesman he had been, but his mother couldn’t keep the swells of tears to herself. After all, he hadn’t been away so long in his life. He had always been right inside her nest, the last bird to push out and watch take flight.
Aileen DiMaggio was a woman of her roots, feeding him as much as she could of her Italian classics before he requested to go home. Of course, she had other plans, and told him to be prepared when he arrived at his usually empty house. There was a party, and they were probably waiting for him every moment that she shoved food onto his plate. Of course he was no fan of parties he couldn’t decide upon himself, but it would be rude to request they leave him alone. Wes knew he had friends, and he knew that they would undoubtedly be upset if he brushed them off. Still, it felt too much too soon, his body aching to find the relief of his own bed.
The only face he wanted to see upon his arrival, if he was truly honest with himself, was that of his calico. His sister had been house-sitting for him, feeding the little huntress that held his heart between her teeth. Yara, so famously named after a warrior he adored, would be quite happy to see him he hoped. The only non-DiMaggio woman in the world that would embrace him as if she had not slept a wink since his departure. So many cars lined his driveway, making it hard for his Lyft to get him properly close to the door, but with a sincere apology and an offered tip he was finally released and on his way up the path. Music was playing, seemingly a courtesy of his older sister by the sound of it. Why had he allowed himself to be lulled into such madness? A party planned and ran by him would have been much more appreciated.
West entered his residence and froze, the voices around him an assault to his hearing. If he hadn’t been eager to find his bed before, he definitely was now. If he was younger, maybe even just younger in mentality, he would have been overjoyed with the turnout. It wasn’t as if he was going on fifty with a hatred for all things unexpected. He just simply wasn’t keen on being reminded that he went away at all. The sales made a good excuse, but nobody really knew why he left so suddenly. His mother knew, had made it look as proper as she could, and sent him off with warm thoughts. Standing there now, looking at people who didn’t know where his heart had been, it felt like being greeted by strangers. All except for the ringing, the bell notifying him that the love of his life was sauntering up to him. The small framed cat was nearly overshadowed by the chattering of people around him, asking how his trip went and others asking if he had met anyone while he was away. The only person he wanted to meet was himself, and he didn’t find any answers.
Stooping down, he collected the noisy cat and brought her to his chest. “There’s my girl, how have you been?” Yara mewed at him gently, rubbing her cheek against his broad shoulder in response, only interrupted by the voice of a man he knew all too well. “Stop choosing your cat over everyone and give me a hug Westie-boy.” His eyes drifted upward, finding the blonde man staring at him fondly. The one before him was Adam, a man of simplicity but nonetheless a man he had to admit was his best friend. “Oh, you leave her alone, she just missed her papa. You don’t know what it is to have the kind of love that we have.” West offered the other a smile, setting his calico back onto her feet before wrapping his arms around his friend. It was as tight a hug as he could muster, still rather worn down from the flight and his mother stuffing his face. Prying himself away, the other shook his head and offered him some surprising news. “Actually, I have been seeing someone, she’s around here somewhere.” As if on cue, there was a flash of skin around Adam’s neck, though it was familiar beyond what he could consciously explain. The skin along a woman’s slender arm, where had he seen such unblemished skin before? “Speak of the devil...”
There was a moment of confusion that crossed his features as his friend turned, presenting him with a good look at the woman in question. Dark hair, gentle features, and heartache combined. She touched her lips to his and West felt run down, bulldozed from his standing. It was Lilith, the woman who haunted his dreams and left him stranded with a bleeding heart in his hands. A woman who he could not look at, nor acknowledge that Adam had seemed to tame into his arms. As they parted Wes looked around his home, trying to find where the drinks were provided. It was going to be one hell of a night now, more than he could handle. “This is Lilith, my girlfriend.” Girlfriend? Of course, it only provided a feeling of self doubt, what made the other man so different? Would he need to run away from her as well when she parted?
