Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry,” he starts before having a coughing fit.
I wave him off, handing over a glass of water as he leans forward. I shift on the bed, fixing the covers around him for something to do with my hands. He places the glass on the nightstand and turns his attention back to me.
“I’ll make sure you get some time to yourself,” he says after clearing his throat.
“Actually, I’ve been enjoying my time with Chloe,” I say, surprising myself.
It’s the truth. I laugh so much during our little tea parties with Eileen. We play in the yard, and I’ve been teaching her new words and singing the alphabet with her. I’ve read her a story the last two nights before she’s gone to bed. She’s such an adorable little girl.
She still asks after her mommy and that’s heartbreaking. In those moments, I just want to hold her tight and make it all better for her. I hope with time it will get better.
“You, I… I’m in awe of you,” he says, shaking his head.
I tilt my head at him. “Why? Because I’ve grown to love an innocent child. She didn’t break my heart, you did,” I say to remind myself as much as him.
He closes his eyes. I watch as his face tightens with his own emotions. I look down into my lap. Once again, I realize I don’t know if I should still be this hard on him. He has been trying.
Walking on the beach, the extravagant dates, and flowers are just the tip of the iceberg. Brodi has spent time allowing me to get to know him again. The problem is, I’m falling for this man. He isn’t the man I used to know.
He has changed. I still see pieces of the one who stole my heart so long ago, but this more mature Brodi is chipping away at my armor every day.
“Gregor, I need to check on Chloe,” I say.
Yes, this is a different man which is why I’ve started to call him by his given name. When I think about it, my source of conflict comes from seeing two sides of him. In my mind, I believe I’ve started to separate the two.
That’s dangerous in so many ways. I stand and go to collect the tray I brought in with his dinner on it. One of the staff members could have done this, but I choose to.
“Yes, I’m in awe of you because you’ve fallen in love with a child that isn’t yours. I’m in awe of you because you hate me and care about me at the same time.
“As much as you may want to deny it. You don’t see me as the monster you once did. Knowing the pain I’ve caused you… I… you’re amazing to sit here and care for not just me, but my mother and my child. You’re only reminding me of all the reasons why I love you,” he says.
I lift the tray, looking away from him. That’s the other thing that threatens to break me down. He doesn’t go a day without telling me he loves me.
We both stay in the east wing of the house. However, when I asked for space, he took a room across the hall from mine. Every night when I go to my room for bed, he walks me to my door and tells me he loves me before planting a lingering kiss on my forehead.
I keep telling myself I can’t trust his words, but they bring a sense of peace to the disarray of feelings I have for him. Like now, when I don’t know whether to be annoyed with him for his assumption or to cling to his words of praise.
“I’ll check back in on you after I feed Chloe and put her down for the night,” I say.
* * *
Gregor
I don’t say another word. I watch as she leaves the room, allowing the anger I feel inside to simmer. It’s not anger toward her. It’s anger for the time we’re still losing.
I’m frustrated with Cee, not angry. I see her walls slowly crumbling, but then she throws daggers at me to keep me at bay. I want to have hope, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get around her self-preservation.
“God help me,” I huff through my sore throat.
I still can’t believe both my mother and I have fallen ill. I think the stomach bug has passed. That soup was the first thing I’ve kept down in two days.
My phone rings, drawing me from my thoughts. My brows furrow when I see it’s a number I don’t know. With all the shit going on back home, my lips tighten in anticipation of more bullshit.
“Hello,” I say tightly into the phone.
“H-hello. This is Emma. Addison’s friend.”
My jaw starts to tic. My stomach sinks. Addison’s name still sparks such anger inside of me. I also want to know why this woman ran off the day her friend died in the hospital.