Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
“For example, the yew tree,” she points to a tree, “which is used to make a chemotherapy drug. And that’s just one of the plants in this garden that is used to fight cancer. I encourage you to read the signs along the walkway and learn about the life saving properties in these humble flowers and plants. There are some amazing breakthroughs being made every day in some of the diseases that have plagued humanity the longest. Cancer. Autoimmune diseases. Even allergies.”
The crowd smiles and nods along, completely with her.
“This Healing Garden is dedicated to one who lost her life in a battle against one such disease. Dr. Laurel’s mother, Isabella.”
Even from halfway across the space, I can see that Daphne’s eyes are glistening.
And then Mrs. Ubeli calls Daphne up on stage to say a few words. I smile and clap harder than anyone there as my beautiful Daphne rolls up the ramp made especially for her as she ascends the dais beside Cora.
She’s the only one I’m here for. Her and that smile on her face. I’ll be forever grateful to Cora Ubeli for giving her this night. I thought all rich, powerful people were the scum of humanity but the Ubelis might just be one of the few exceptions. Then again, from the rumors I’ve heard, they don’t exactly color inside the lines.
I’m still grinning, about to move closer in spite of my dislike of crowds—Daphne’s voice is quieter than Cora’s and I don’t want to miss a word—when other voices filter in.
Loud, obnoxious voices from behind me. One in particular familiar loud, obnoxious voice.
“Phew, dodged a bullet with that one,” Adam Archer says. “It’s too bad, ‘cause she’s hot. But I could never have a wife who couldn’t get on her hands and knees and suck me off at the end of a long day.”
Some hearty laughs and other uncomfortable laughs follow his statement.
But I’m already swinging around, hands fisted.
They’re only standing about five feet behind me, a group of three men, Adam their ringleader.
He smirks when he sees me coming. The son of a bitch.
I point a huge finger at him. He said those things on purpose, close enough so I’d hear him. “You’re a dead man.”
His smirk changes into an expression of fear far too late.
I’m already swinging for his perfect face.
Eight
Daphne
The ride home from the Healing Garden is frosty. There’s no other word for it.
Logan tried feebly to congratulate me on my speech and I snapped at him, “How would you know? You were too busy punching out Adam Archer to hear anything I said.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes when, during the middle of my prepared remarks about my mother’s love of gardening and how much the beauty of nature reminded her that life was worth living—
Only to look up when there’s a ruckus at the back of the seated area, and then to further realize that it’s your current boyfriend punching out your ex-boyfriend and ruining everything.
“Look,” he says gruffly, running a hand through his hair when the car pulls to a stop in the garage of the castle. “I’m sorry.”
I barely contain my scoff but apparently not well enough because he asks, “What?”
Is he serious right now?
“They were two seconds away from calling the cops.”
Logan’s jaw flexes. “But they didn’t.”
My mouth drops open. Does he really think that makes it better? “Then what are you even sorry for? It doesn’t sound like you feel like you have anything to feel sorry about.”
Right now I really wish I could slam my way out of the car and storm up to my room…but humiliatingly, I have to wait for Logan to set up the ramp for me to get out of the van. Because this is how it will always be. Him waiting hand and foot on me and never listening to anything I say.
I knew we would get to this point. It’s exhausting being a caretaker. He’s too busy taking care of my physical needs to care about what I really want— He couldn’t even care that I was excited about the garden.
More like he cares more about his revenge than he does about you.
He comes around the car, opens the door and sets up the ramp. But before I can roll down it, he drops his hands to both sides of the wheelchair and forces me to look him in the eye. “Look, I know I screwed up tonight. But I’m going to make it up to you. I swear.”
Oh, Logan. He doesn’t even get it. It’s not about making it up to me. It’s about letting go of the past so we can have a future.
I gave up everything. But he’s obviously not willing to do the same.
I reach up and caress his face. “I’m tired, hon. Really tired. Can I just go sleep? We’ll talk another time?”