Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Eden? You okay?”
“Fine!” I lie. “Can you…hand me some clothes, please?”
Ah, yes, how fortuitous I have another opportunity to remind him I’m half-naked.
“Clothes.”
I stifle a scream. His voice is right outside this door.
Oh my goodness.
“Sergio,” I groan. “Not now. Please!”
“Hmm. I feel I’d be remiss if I just…handed you clothes like a gentleman.”
“You are a gentleman!”
“Mmm,” he says thoughtfully. “Not quite. I’ve only given you that illusion.”
I glare at the door and imagine his head just on the other side. I give the wood a good, hard, slap.
“Sergio, please.”
He only chuckles. Why is that so erotic? Ugh!
“And what will you give me if I get your clothes?”
Back in the lot, I thought that Sergio was all man to Mario’s boyishness. Now, however, I see that Sergio does indeed have a playful side as well.
“What will I give you? How about my most heartfelt thanks and utter devotion?”
Why did I just say that? I didn’t think my cheeks could get any hotter. I was wrong.
“Heartfelt thanks and undying devotion. Alright, then.”
I hear him step away from the door. I close my eyes and shake my head at myself when I imagine him rifling through my clothes trying to find something to give me.
“Here we go.”
I open the door the teeniest tiniest sliver until I see a bundle of white and blue. I grab it and slam the door shut again, earning me another deep, dark chuckle.
I throw the door open and see him standing in the doorway with a white plastic bag.
“Look, Eden, I’m sorry,” he says, his deep voice traveling right through the shut door. “I knocked and swore I thought you said ‘Come in.’”
“I—I was talking to Daisy,” I yell through the door.
“Daisy? Ah. You were talking to the dog. We call her Daisy now. Got it. I’m gonna leave.”
“No, it’s okay.” I yank the door open, wondering if I look as eager as I feel, when his cell phone rings.
Holding up a finger, he signals the door and walks out.
Sigh.
He didn’t mean to come in here.
I didn’t mean to run like a scared rabbit.
He didn’t mean to see me half-naked. No, three-quarters naked.
I… shouldn’t like that he did.
I want to laugh and cry and don’t even know what to do with myself. I groan and open the door to see a shining pair of puppy eyes and a wagging tail but no Sergio.
Together, we look through the bag he brought.
“Why, this was awfully thoughtful of him, wasn’t it?” I ask Daisy. I lay out a dog collar and brush, shampoo, disposable puppy pads, and a few rugged dog bones. Daisy takes right to them.
Still, I can’t help feeling that something is off here. I can’t put a stopper on the guilt that floods through me.
While Daisy sleeps, I head to the one place where I can control what I do—the kitchen.
I check my rising bread and the cake that’s waiting to be frosted. I check the marinating chicken and pre-cut vegetables. I check the simmering broth and the wine list. And when I see that everything’s ready for the evening, I head to the dish rack to hand-wash the dishes.
They have people who do the dishes, and they have a fancy, high-speed dishwasher. But sometimes I need to occupy myself.
I remember being in here with Sergio.
I remember how he didn’t get angry with me for breaking the jar.
I remember how Seth did. How my father did. How I was punished when I didn’t obey perfectly. How hard I tried to be perfect and how I always, always failed.
I lift one of the dishes in my hand.
My marriage to Seth was arranged. I know literally nothing about romance and dating and falling in love.
The only thing that I do know is that love is forbidden.
I also know I have absolutely no more control over this than I do over my own heart beating.
I drop the plate to the floor and watch it shatter.
The heat in my chest and my pounding heart make me nauseous. I swallow bile and breathe in deeply. I draw in another deep breath and close my eyes, letting my instinctive need to protect myself rise.
I exhale.
No one is going to punish you.
The shards of broken glass glitter on the floor.
No one is coming to hurt you.
I drop another plate.
“Eden?” Flo stands in the doorway, dressed in a tight-fitting, white lacy dress, her hair piled dangerously high on top of her head, ready to come loose with one firm shake. “You okay, doll?”
Are you okay?
Where I come from, a woman dressed like her would be eviscerated, sentenced to punishment by exile for tempting the eyes of others with her provocative clothes. But here, in this world… they love her.
“I’m fine,” I say, a bit guilty that I broke the dishes on purpose. I’ll replace it.
“Ah, well, don’t I know how that goes. You know, me and my first husband had to eat off paper plates after only a month of being married.”