Tough Decisions

ASTON

Blake’s father’s house was not what I was expecting at all. As a property magnate, I would’ve expected him to have a home the size of a hotel. Perhaps a glass and concrete monstrosity.

While Wayne’s house wasn’t small, it definitely wasn’t the size of a hotel. It was a comfortable five bedroom family home. I didn’t know if this was where Blake grew up, I hadn’t asked. But it looked like it would’ve been a pretty nice place to grow up in if it was.

It was cozy despite its size, and boasted big trees and a large backyard with a patio and a sparkling pool. I wondered if any of the family sized dining tables either inside or outside ever saw any action. Neither Blake nor Danny struck me as the type to pop in for family meals on Sundays.

I’d finally come to learn that Blake’s mother’s name was Linda. She seemed to know her way around the house well enough and excused herself shortly after we arrived to unpack. I was left chopping salad in the farm style kitchen.

There were beautiful