Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
I wipe off some drops that landed on my cheeks. “Sorry about that,” I say.
“It’s just finishing up. You want a taste?” she asks.
“Well, if you’re offering …” I give her a big smile.
“Of course.” She grabs a bowl and fills it up, then places it on the kitchen counter. “Eat up.”
I sit down on a stool. “Thanks,” I say, staring at the bowl, wondering which piece I’ll start with first.
She adds a spoon and a napkin, accompanied by a soft smile that breaks my heart in two.
The last time I saw that smile was when I ran away at the store. When I was finally free and her world broke in two. Easton probably didn’t treat her kindly, and she must hate me for it.
I rub my lips together and pick up the spoon while she continues to stir the pot. She normally doesn’t cook, as Easton has a few personal chefs that work for him, so the fact that she’s here surprises me. I wonder if he made her do this or if she’s trying to make up for something.
“So … you’re cooking too now?” I mutter. “You’re like the perfect assistant.”
“Oh, it’s only for today. Mr. Van Buren requested I make this dish personally, and I agreed. It’s his favorite.”
“Interesting,” I say. I guess there’s so much more she knows about him than I do. “So you do this often?”
“No, just when he asks,” she says. “He’s had it a bit rough these past few days.”
Oh boy, I can’t imagine. That makes me want to roll my eyes.
“But don’t worry about me. Go eat,” she says.
I nod and look down at the perfect bowl of stew with just the right amount of herbs and probably the perfect taste, and it makes me wonder what else she does so damn perfect.
Yes, I’m envious. I wish I could cook like this and be so loving and supportive. That someone would need me for something other than my body or for revenge. That Easton would need me the way he needs her.
But that’s selfish of me.
The way he treats her and takes her for granted … I shouldn’t ever want that.
The longer I stare at the stew, the more hesitant I become to take a bite. I don’t want to upset her, but I don’t deserve this delicious meal either.
“What’s wrong?” she suddenly asks.
I put my spoon down. “Nothing, I just …” I sigh. I guess it’s better to talk about these things than to bury them in the shadows. “I wanted to apologize for leaving you at the store the day I ran.”
She stiffens and grows silent, clutching her spoon as if it’s her lifeline.
“I know Easton must’ve been harsh on you for that,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, hehe,” she mutters, flicking her spoon like a baton. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, and you don’t have to pretend that it is,” I interject. “I hurt you.”
“Nonsense, you didn’t—”
“I did. I hurt you personally by running away. I knew when I saw you that he’d punish you for it, and I did it anyway.” I swallow away the lump in my throat. “And I’m sorry about that. If I could turn back time and change what I did, I would.”
It’s silent for a few seconds as we stare at each other, and her eyes fill with tears.
“I saw your desperation, your need to be free …” she murmurs. “I should’ve stopped you.”
“But you didn’t.” I don’t look away because I want to see her pain. I need to see it so I can come to terms with the flaws of my actions and how they affect others. “And there’s nothing I’m more grateful for than that.”
She looks down at her feet, and there’s another pause.
“Did you like it there?” Her voice is brittle, soft as a whisper. “Outside in the real world?”
A gentle smile tugs at my lips. “Very much.”
“Did you get to do what you wanted?” she adds, clearing her throat.
It takes me a few seconds to answer. “Yes.” I nod. “But I would’ve loved more time …”
She clutches her arms, and says, “I’m sorry Mr. Van Buren didn’t want to stop looking for you.” She bites her bottom lip. “I tried to persuade him to give it up, but he wouldn’t—”
“It’s not your fault, Jill,” I say, smiling. “It’s no one’s fault but mine.”
She sighs out loud as though a heavy weight has lifted off her shoulders.
“That man has a giant crush on you,” she says. “Nothing anyone says or does will ever change that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do you think so? Because he bought me for my body … and for revenge.”
She approaches the table and leans in. “There’s no one else on his mind. All day long. All he thinks about is you.”
“How do you know?” I ask.