Chapter 5 First encounter with my mom’s boyfriend
Milan Malpensa Airport was buzzing with bustle as people rushed to their destinations. I was getting more and more frustrated as I stood outdoors in the blazing Italian warmth. My mom had organized everything for this trip, so why wasn't anyone coming to pick me up? I raised my sunglasses and looked over the crowd to see if anyone I knew was there.
Just when my patience was becoming thin, I noticed Mr. Martin, my mom's secretary, approached me. I felt a wave of relief.
"Ms. Isabella!" he exclaimed.
I raised my eyebrows, murmuring beneath my breath, "Thank God."
"My mom has finally sent someone to pick me up," I said out loud, not trying to disguise how irritated I was. Without waiting for an answer, I headed swiftly towards the car he had arrived in. Mr. Martin hastened to keep up and unlocked the door for me. With a grim expression, I ascended to the rear seat and kept quiet. He arranged my bags with speed and sat down next to the driver.
The car sped away from the curb, merging perfectly into the highway. Mr. Martin finally broke the silence.
"How are you doing, Isabella? It's been three years since we last met."
I sighed, "I am fine, Uncle."
"You have changed a lot," he said, looking into the rear-view mirror for a moment.
I inhaled deeply as his words began to weigh heavily on me. 'Maybe I have,' I pondered, but instead of expressing myself, I said, "Where is she?"
"Ma'am is at home," he answered promptly.
I felt a wave of stillness wash over me as he spoke.
'Indeed, what would make her come? I've had unrealistic expectations of her. She did not intend to come to the airport herself,' I thought, resentment creeping into my mind.
'Whatever it is, as long as she meets my requirements, I will listen to her.'
Last night, she called and urged me to come to her as soon as possible because she had a surprise for me in Italy. It's possible that she preferred that I live with her rather than my dad. Furthermore, I was unaware of the present state of their divorce.
I reclined in my seat, trying to get over my disappointment. I had had enough of the drama, the uncertainty, and the never-ending expectations. I dropped my eyes in search of the momentary solace of sleep.
The car's soft motion soothed me, and I quickly fell asleep once my surroundings faded. It seemed like just a few seconds had gone by when Mr. Martin's voice roused me from my slumber.
"Miss!"
"Ms. Isabella!"
I cracked my eyes in annoyance and stared at Mr. Martin. He smiled. "We are home."
Gradually, I departed the car and looked around my mom's house. My brows raised up, and I walked in casually.
As I walked into the drawing hall, it appeared strangely empty despite the fact that relaxing music was playing. Mr. Martin put my bags down and walked away silently. "Mom!" I called as I set my laptop bag on the couch.
No one answered. The unexpected stillness just made me more irritated, so I stepped over and switched off the music. I felt uneasy as I looked around me.
"Mom, are you home?" My voice echoed a little in the spacious room as I said again.
At that moment, a man's voice came from behind me. "Isabella!"
Hearing my name, I turned back. I was shocked to see a man standing in front of me, bare-chested. My mouth dropped open in disbelief as my eyes darted across the room and then back to him.
His abrupt presence wasn't the only thing that left me stunned. It was his superb looks. His arms and muscles were well-defined, and his abs were firm. His features were angular, typical of the dark romantic books I read. What really caught my attention, though, was the bowl of food he was holding in the middle of all this magnificence.
I frowned in confusion. 'Is he my mom's cook?'
I shook my head to get my mind straight.
"You?" I asked.
He flashed a witty, disarming smile. "Ah, I am Ezekiel."
I tightened my eyes and raised my brow. "So, when did you join here as a cook?"
He parted his lips to say something, but instead chuckled gently, his eyes glittering with delight. Then he said to me, "Well. You might claim it's only a few weeks."
"Oh…" I crossed my arms and looked at him from head to toe.
Ezekiel raised an eyebrow at my scrutiny. "Are you done checking me out?"
I rolled my eyes.
I shot back, "I'm not checking you out."
"I'm just wondering how my mom ended up hiring such a handsome cook."
Ezekiel pulled his lips together, took a long breath, and said, "Well, I guess you'll have to ask her that, and I take it as a compliment, Ms."
Feeling a little lighter, I smiled. I might not have a terrible time here after all. The thought of remaining in Italy without friends was unpleasant, but Ezekiel's presence hinted it may be more exciting than I had imagined.
"And I would be honored to stay here as your cook rather than your mom's boyfriend," he stated, smiling teasingly.
My smile disappeared instantly.
Did I hear him correctly?
"What?" I stammered, my thoughts racing.
Before I could comprehend his words, I noticed my mom, still in her nightwear, walking downstairs.
Seeing me, she called out, "Isabella!"
Ezekiel's words had already startled me too much. I then understood the surprise my mother had been trying to give me. She reached out to give me a hug, but I did not.
I cut all the politeness and asked straight, "Who is he? Is this your surprise, Mom?"
Her eyes darted from me to Ezekiel, and her face darkened.
"Stop it, Isabella. Come to my room."
I raised my eyebrows and yanked my arm away from her. She was obviously concerned that I might start an argument in the hall. And she was right to be concerned—I was ready.
Mom took hold of my hand once more, more securely, and said, "Let's go."
I glanced at Ezekiel, then at her. I turned aside in annoyance, but he gave me an earnest smile. I followed her to her room, my thoughts racing with what I had heard.
Once we were inside, she shut the door and turned to face me.
"What is that behavior, Isabella?"
I crossed my arms in an attempt to control my annoyance.
"You kept your relationship a secret from me. And you surprise me in this way?"
Sitting on the side of her bed, she let out a sigh.
"I thought to surprise you, honey," my mom continued, her voice asking for understanding.
I squeezed my lips together, attempting to sober up. I couldn't believe what my mom was doing, and this was too much for me to handle.
"Surprise?" I gave a sarcastic laugh.
"Surprise me with what, Mom?"
I met her gaze directly. "I am sorry; I know right now you can't accept Ezekiel as your dad," she said with a heavy sigh.
"And you know, he has his own business, besides being the heir of a famous university here. He's too perfect for me."
My mom left me stunned. She was really taken with this man.
"Mom, what is his age?" I asked, the question burning within me. I needed to know because Ezekiel seemed younger than my mom.
Mom hesitated for a second, then sighed heavily and said, "He is 25 years old."
"You are 14 years older than him. Mom, how could you have done that? Do you believe he will remain with you?" Unable to control my rage, I blew up. The disparity in age was so great that I couldn't imagine how she thought it would work.
"He is literally 5 years older than me."
"Not 5 years, Isabella," Mom said.
"It's 6 years."
With even more displeasure, I raised my eyebrows and said, "I will turn 20 this month. So yes, it's 5. Mom, how can you date a boy so young?"
"Isabella!" Mom, obviously a little upset, increased her voice. I couldn't bear to look at her, so I looked away.
I wasn't like other girls who couldn't believe that their mom was seeing someone else. It didn't bother me if she was happy again. But the issue was the ridiculousness of her dating someone 14 years younger. I simply couldn't understand it.
"I didn't expect you to talk like a typical girl," Mom added, a tinge of sadness in her tone.
I arched my brows slightly, feeling the sharpness of her words. Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door. Mom calmed down fast, but I was unable to do the same. She was a much better actor than I.
Ezekiel pushed the door open. I gave him a stern look.
"Darling, why are you knocking?" Mom replied as she moved up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Ezekiel smiled at me, but I could see by the expression in his eyes that he understood that Mom had reprimanded me. I rolled my eyes, looking away from them.
"Kathrine," he continued softly, "I figured knocking would be an ideal choice. After all, she's your daughter. You should have some personal conversations with her."
"What?" Mom laughed.
"We are family. So, there's nothing I should tell her personally."
I cringed at the way she said it. Did she now consider this to be family? A man about my own age acting as a father figure?
While Mom held him, I kept a tight eye on them. With a hesitant smile on his lips, Ezekiel stroked Mom's back while glancing at me. I was so annoyed by their showy behavior.
Unable to contain myself, I said, "At least he has some sense of manners, not like you."
I turned and left the room after saying that. I could hear Mom yelling my name, her voice frustrated and concerned, but I didn't answer. I needed to go away from the deep emotions.
"Isabella!" she yelled after me, echoing through the corridor.
I continued to walk without turning around. I needed time to think things through.