Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
He doubted she was giggling.
But he hoped for part of her time with her friends, she had some fun.
It was on this thought, Jamie’s doorbell rang.
Jamie looked at his watch, then he set aside his book, got up and went to the door.
He peered through the peephole and saw Nora standing there.
He opened the door, and further saw she was carrying two handled paper bags.
He felt his mouth form a rusty smile. “This is a delightful surprise.”
She lifted her right hand. “Crispy duck, glazed prawns with walnuts, and water dumplings.”
On the side of the bag, it said Mr. Chow’s.
She held up her left hand. “Pistachio financiers and an assortment of macarons from Chanson.” She dropped that hand, and finished, “More than enough for you and your daughter.”
“Dru isn’t here.”
She appeared adorably stymied before she said, “Well, I hear Chinese leftovers are delicious.”
All of a sudden, his smile felt less rusty. “You hear?”
She gave a delicate, one-shouldered shrug. “I give any leftovers to my housekeeper.”
“Of course you do,” he murmured.
She offered the bags. “But a nice dinner for you in the meantime.”
He took the bags and asked, “Have you had dinner?”
Now she appeared surprised. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You rang my doorbell.”
“I did because they melt away.”
“Who melts away?”
“All the people who have good intentions when something awful happens. Then the weeks pass, and they forget you’re still living with it, you are because you can’t escape it, but they get to carry on not thinking about it.”
And his smile disappeared.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said quietly, watching him closely, the liquid brown of her pretty eyes filled with sympathy and concern. “I just don’t want you to think everyone melted away.”
Christ, she was something.
From the moment he met her, she’d been something.
He could still see her mouthing, I’m so sorry as she left him with the mess that was his first wife. He could see her crouched in her amazing gown beside a line of toilet stalls trying to get Belinda to drink water. He could also see her awkwardly taking a tray of coffee with the door mostly closed so no one could see inside.
Not a word, for days, weeks, months, now years, had been heard anywhere about what happened in that ladies room.
No, when Belinda imploded their lives and family, she’d done that on her own.
Nora, nor Eleanor, had breathed a word.
But Jamie had half fallen in love with Nora in that bathroom.
He’d had plenty of time to process this, considering, at the time, he’d been married to a woman he loved very much.
And he understood that part of it was all that was Nora Elizabeth Ellington Castellini (at the time, she’d since dropped the Castellini, fortunately for her, having that assclown out of her life) was all that Belinda Oakley was not.
But part of it was her generosity of time, and care, and discretion, which more than hinted at the significant levels of her compassion and integrity.
Not to mention, she was tall and voluptuous, had an aggressively lavish sense of style that was so unapologetically in your face about her obvious wealth, for a man like Jamie, who was unapologetically aggressive about acquiring wealth, it was arousing.
But she could be in a T-shirt and jeans, and she’d be beautiful to look at, because she was beautiful deep down to her soul.
He’d been right when he’d spoken to her in that restaurant, their time was not to come. She was still with Castellini when he was between Belinda and Rosalind, and he was very with Rosalind when she was done with Castellini.
And now, losing Lindy, he was just done.
Forever.
But she was still Nora, indicating with every move she made he’d been right about her generosity, compassion and integrity.
Like right now.
He stepped to the side. “Come inside and have dinner with me.”
“Jamie—”
“This will be the first night I’m alone since she died.”
That did it.
Nora stepped right in.
He closed the door and guided the way to the kitchen, not missing that Nora blatantly looked around and took everything in while he did.
He did not know her well, but he knew that was very her.
Nora didn’t hide who she was or what interested her.
And now he was wondering if she’d ever worn a mask.
Nora was just…Nora.
He got out plates and napkins while she unearthed food.
“White? Red? A cocktail?” he offered.
“White,” she ordered.
He went to his wine fridge.
It was in silence that wasn’t entirely comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, that they sorted their meals, and Jamie poured their wine, and they found themselves sitting at his island in his wife’s kitchen.
“I’m not surprised Rosalind could best the Herculean task of creating a home that’s both unequivocally homey, at the same time elegant and refined.”
A dumpling he’d dipped in sauce that was trapped between his chopsticks and suspended halfway to his mouth froze in mid-air as he stared at her.