Walking Heartthrob

Chapter 2 Look Out London

So you must be wondering how my life spiraled out of control into this abyss of despair. Was my family not as amazing as I described? Was I such a rebellious whelp that deserved to be exiled? No, that wasn't it. I knew fairly well why all this was happening.

My mom came from old money—in Britain. Like heiress of an estate kinda lifestyle. My grandmother (I usually call her Gwan like Tweety so get used to that) was—seriously called—a lady. Like Lord and Lady, related to blue-bloods and all. She had two girls—my mom, Margaret Westrope, and my aunt Hildegard Westrope, her younger sister. Naturally, owning an estate and all, she expected her eldest to marry well, settle down and run the estate. But Mom had other plans. She attended King's College and met a handsome young blond American who swept her off her feet and married him right out of college. Or as my Gwan says, 'stole my daughter and tainted her for life'. Gwan hates my Dad's guts for that.

But Dad wasn't all big talk—he could walk the walk too. He'd been a smart investor in his youth and accumulated enough wealth to call himself a self-made millionaire. If you ask me, he was shoving it in Gwan's face proving himself worthy of my mom. Not quite so crudely, but still. In your face, old lady.

By then he'd taken Mom to America where they promptly settled in Venice, Cali, his hometown, and had two babies. They would've gone for one more if I hadn't been such a handful. And they weren't the nanny-hiring type. Tony was easy; I kept them on their toes and drained them of all youthful energy so by thirty they were definitely over the baby-making stage. Don't get me wrong, they still love each other like newlyweds. It's frigging unbelievable. I always looked at them and wished I could find a love like that too. And I think I did, in Kevin.

My chest felt heavy as I thought about him and I sighed deeply. I was leaving so much behind...

Gwan was a widow and between both her girls had four grandchildren (I've never even seen my cousins) and had 'great expectations' to make one of the third generation heirs the Lord or Lady of her estate after her death. It was in her will and all. Mom told me that whenever I brought up Gwanma and Gwanpa when I was a kid and asked her why we never met them—Gwan didn't have the guts to visit us until two years ago in California. Why? She and Mom had—issues. Like 'you married a bloody American and disgraced the Westrope name!' issues. This feud has been going on for close to a quarter of a century. Needless to say, they don't get along. And now Mom thinks I'll get along with Gwan. The irony. Let's say Gwan rubbed me the wrong a lot and often made me wanna commit myself to an asylum. On the few occasions we interacted.

Where was I? I got off track, sorry. So, Gwan wants an heir and while my British blue-blood cousins seemed the ideal nominees, Gwan wanted her eldest daughter's kid for the job. Just one problem; Tony was an American-born rebel who'd stand by Dad through anything. He's not gonna give up on Dad's multimillion-dollar company which was promised to him to run a deadbeat estate in the middle of the English countryside, seeing to milking cows and selling pigs. No siree.

So Tony got away with upsetting Gwan, my cousins were still fighting over ownership of the estate, and I was the variable that needed to be eliminated from the picture. Scary, right? But while they have their own plans for me, I'm on a different roll altogether. No way in hell am I staying in London forever to run the estate of a grandmother who didn't give a damn for my mom's family until she needed an heir. I had my own dreams to pursue and they didn't have any connections to London. So yeah, I had my work cut out trying to make myself as disagreeable as possible and get disqualified as heir to the estate. This was gonna be hard since I was battling the Brits alone. I sighed, my thoughts going back to Kevin, the one person who never let me feel alone.

Last week I had to tell him and Trini, my best friend, that I was leaving for London—forever. Four years forever. They were mad, sad, and everything in between. Kevin even brought out the foul language—I don't think I ever heard him swear anything worse than 'damn'.