Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
49
Violet
I’m spending the day after Christmas with Susanna and her mom at their house. It’s been a tradition we’ve had for years, other than the last two years and I’ve missed it. My first Christmas with Ray when I did it, he sulked and by the following year, had a downright attitude about it so I feigned a headache and canceled.
Today, I told Killian what I was planning to do and he didn’t bat an eye about it.
Me, Suse and her mom Lorena pamper ourselves and follow a tradition Susanna’s family had for “Boxing Day” of knitting hats, scarves, and mittens for the homeless, which we spend the day doing while alternately snacking and watching movies with some pampering, breaking out the homemade facials and foot spas.
I almost didn’t come, thinking it’d be a long day of worry for me, but it’s working out to help keep my mind somewhat occupied. Despite the fact that Susanna and Lorena are great company, the jitters chase me all day. And I’ve got a bit of the nausea back. I threw up first thing this morning, but thankfully it doesn’t seem to be an all-day thing so far.
I’m kind of torn, almost wishing I didn’t have to be in the know about the Ray move that’s happening today, because until I hear from Kill that it’s over, that it’s done with, I’m going to feel like I have a nest of butterflies in my belly.
More than once, Susanna and her mom get concerned looks on their faces as I get caught not paying attention because I’m so preoccupied. I blame it on the nausea and on trying to count stitches as I knit.
Finally, I hear from Killian via a text message at four o’clock.
Killian: Checking in. All good with you?
Me: All good. All good with you?
Killian: Very good. See you at home. I’m at Numbers working on the security plan for nye. I might be late. Let me know when you’re home. I love you.
Me: Ok. Love you.
I exhale relief.
Very good.
Phew.
I want to ask questions, but I know I can’t do that via text. I need to wait until we’re together later.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s possible… is it really, truly over?
Will we be able to start the new year with all this behind us?
I feel a spark of hope.
But then something else. Guilt. Knowing Ray isn’t with the cops, that he’s going to a different sort of prison that he’ll never get out of. I push the guilt away.
“Good message?” Lorena asks.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“Now maybe she’ll actually be here with us instead of just here with us,” Susanna mutters.
“Such a poker face on you,” Lorena adds.
“Pass me the black yarn?” I request, trying to hide my smile.
“Do you girls want some lasagna?” Lorena asks.
Lasagna? Can I stomach a piece of lasagna? My mind transports me back to the day I found Ray in the basement.
“We haven’t stopped noshing all day,” Susanna says. “But duh… of course we want some.”
I laugh. And shockingly, most likely because of Killian’s text message, I am able to eat the lasagna. I even enjoy it.
***
“We should invite him in for a coffee at least,” Susanna says, looking out through the lace curtains of her mother’s living room. She’s not being very inconspicuous about stalking my bodyguard.
“I’d like to get a look at him,” Lorena puts in, going up to the front door and looking between the blind slats.
“Lorena!” I exclaim, laughing.
“What? I don’t have the right to set eyes on my potential future son-in-law?”
Susanna throws herself to her back on the couch, cackling with glee while kicking her feet and clapping her hands. “That’s what I’m sayin’!”
“Maybe we should offer him a beverage,” Lorena muses.
“After I get this mask off my face,” Susanna adds.
They don’t quite get why I have a bodyguard, even though I’ve explained that Killian has had some security issues and not to worry about it, that it’s just a precaution. Susanna thinks it’s suspect, I can tell. Her mom thinks it’s swoony that my husband is protective but has already warned me about the dangers of possessive men and I’ve tried my best to alleviate her concerns.
“Oh shit, the door is opening,” Lorena says, still peering through her blinds at the front door. “Oh my Lord. Look at that man, Susanna! It’s beyond sexy the way he even folds out of his car.”
“Right?” Susanna throws up a hand.
“He’s gonna give me some handsome, strong grandbabies, isn’t he? I can see his green eyes from here, child!”
Susanna laughs. “I don’t want kids. They’re too needy. But I’d like to practice making them with him.”
“What’s he doing?” I get up and look out the front window over her shoulder and see Wesley stalking up toward the house, a serious look on his face.
I go for the door, hearing Susanna screech that I can’t open it with our faces all covered in (homemade facial) goo.