Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I take her home, to my place, to the place where I’m keeping her forever.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Anya
Iwander listlessly through the house while Saverio is at the gym, wearing nothing but the shirt he took off last night. I should get dressed, but the scent of musky male and spicy cologne that clings to the fabric is soothing. It makes me feel protected even though such a notion is crazy. He’s the last person I should feel safe with, yet I still sleep like a baby in his bed, and here I am, drowning in his smell and his clothes when he’s not here to see it. I don’t want to show him how wearing his clothes comfort me in a vulnerable moment when he’s the cause of the turmoil tormenting me. I still feel bruised about what he said. I’m not sure what to make of the whole adoption thing.
What I should be doing is using the precious little time I have alone to search for weird tubular keys, but I have a bizarre urge to redecorate, not only to paint the walls and to change the furniture but also to put pretty flowers that smell nice in the rooms. My fingers itch to pluck down the dreary curtains and let the sunshine in, to throw the windows wide open and smell the bite of winter over the stale atmosphere of the grandeur in the lounge. I want to spring clean and repack all the cupboards. It’s strange, especially seeing that it’s not even my house, yet I’m to live here now. Forever. And taking into account the nature of Saverio’s and my relationship, that’s a scary prospect.
I try not to dwell on the daunting future. It will only drive me crazy. Instead, I let my feet carry me where they will. Going from room to room, I inspect each one for the first time by not just looking but truly seeing what’s in front of me. Everything is so stuffy and somber. I carry on until I find myself in front of the baby room. I haven’t gone inside since the day I walked in on Saverio ripping the room apart. He’s installed a door between the master suite and the nursery and plastered as well as painted the wall around the frame. The smell of fresh paint is still faint in the air.
I grab the door handle but hesitate. The reason I haven’t crossed the threshold is because I don’t want to admit what the room signifies. I held on to the belief that this situation wasn’t forever, but after last night, I know differently. There’s no getting out of this, no turning back.
I try to imagine what the room looks like with the dark panels and heavy drapes in front of the windows gone. With the walls plastered white, the room must seem airy and light.
Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for owning the truth that comes with opening this door. When I push down the handle, I can no longer pretend the room doesn’t exist. I can no longer tell myself that I’ll walk away soon.
The door swings inward soundlessly, unlike every other door in the house that squeaks.
I stand on the threshold, expecting brightness and white, but what’s in front of me comes as such a shock that I remained glued to the spot, battling to process the sight.
I pinch my eyes shut and slowly open them again, but the picture isn’t a figment of my imagination. It’s not the clear, empty space I thought it would be. Instead, the walls are painted a buttery shade of yellow, soft and warm like sunshine. Framed portraits of teddy bears in fields of spring flowers and at picnic tables under summer skies decorate the walls. Pine floorboards replace the ugly burgundy carpet, adding warmth and lightness. The white rug in the middle is a nice touch. A crib with a colorful butterfly mobile attached to the rail stands under the large window. Yellow voile curtains as light as clouds hang to the floor. Stuffed animals in yellow, pink, blue, and brown take up the top shelves of a bookcase. The middle shelves are lined with storybooks while toys still in their boxes fill up the bottom. A rocking chair that stands in the corner is convenient for breastfeeding or rocking a baby to sleep. Next to the chair, a changing table is fixed to the top of the dresser.
The nursery is functional as well as warm and cozy. It’s not one of those perfect pictures you see in glossy interior decorating magazines. The accent color is obviously yellow, but the rest is a bit of a haphazard mix. It’s as if Saverio filled the room with pieces of himself, each toy and item carefully chosen. I would’ve said lovingly if I didn’t know better.