Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
I’m sitting across from Sebastian at a small table by the pool at Christian’s house. It’s early in the morning. The sun has just barely risen.
I didn’t sleep much last night. I couldn’t get her face out of my mind, so I spent hours tossing back and forth. I even got out of bed for a while and sat out here by the pool, watching the moonlight shimmer on the water.
At least I’ve stopped crying.
“I’m okay.”
He frowns at me over his iPad. I’m not sure what he’s been reading.
“You haven’t eaten in almost two days.”
“Thanks for counting.”
His icy blue eyes narrow on me, and I know I’m being horrible. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t eaten, I’m just not hungry.”
“We all need to eat,” Christian says as he and Jenna join us, carrying trays of fruit and pastries. They each choose a seat, and we nibble in silence, half-heartedly choosing from the platters of food. “Did you sleep at all?”
I shake my head no. “You?”
“Not much,” he admits and pours himself a cup of coffee. Nick and Liam join us on the veranda, sitting nearby, looking refreshed and ready to go. “We should leave early this morning so there’s less press.”
“Why would there be press?” I ask and immediately regret the words. “Never mind. I know why.”
“Why?” Jenna asks. Jenna’s always put-together. Always. But even she looks a little worse for wear this morning.
“Because he’s Christian Wolfe, and I’m married to him.” I point my thumb at Sebastian. “Which means, this is a story. So the press will be camped out, wanting comments.”
“If we go early, there’s less chance the press will be around,” Christian says.
I turn to Sebastian and reach for his hand. “You don’t have to go with us.”
I’d rather you not go with us.
This is the part of the trip I’ve been dreading the most. If I can avoid it by making it sound like I’m protecting him from the press, all the better.
“Of course, I’m going,” Sebastian replies. “I’ll be wherever you are, you know that.”
“Sir,” Liam interrupts. “The princess is right. The press could get difficult on this one—”
“Fuck that,” Sebastian says, his voice raised in agitation. “I’ve never questioned the security detail and the importance of you being with us. I follow the rules. But goddamn it, you’re asking me to not be with my wife when she’s going through one of the most difficult times in her life. If you think I’m going to stay here in case the press gets difficult, you don’t know me at all. You’ve been hired to keep us safe. Just do your bloody job, and we’ll be fine.”
Liam’s jaw tics when he nods stiffly. “Sir.”
“We’ll go after breakfast then,” Christian says. He’s watching Sebastian with a new light of respect shining in his eyes. “I like you, man.”
“At least someone does. I think Liam might want to throat punch me.”
“I won’t let him do that, sir,” Nick says, making us all laugh.
***
“I don’t want you to see this,” I admit as we park in front of Mom’s house. There’s no press parked outside, so we’ll call that a win.
“What do you mean?” Sebastian asks.
“It’s a shit hole. Not the house itself, but what she’s done to the inside of it. It’s embarrassing, Sebastian.”
He squeezes my hand and kisses my cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”
Right.
I am going to worry about it. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
He hasn’t seen it.
But he’s about to. And not just him, but Jenna and the security guys, too.
Liam unlocks the door, and each of us has to squeeze through the opening, following a path that leads to the living space where Mom had a chair that faced the big windows that look out onto the surf.
“Jesus,” Christian whispers, looking around the packed room. “I knew she was a hoarder, but I had no idea it had gotten this bad.”
It looks like something from the TV show, Hoarders. She never threw anything away, even garbage. And she loved to shop online. Not only is there a pile of clothes still in their plastic in the dining room, there’s a pile of opened and empty boxes in the corner of the living room.
It’s a mountain of cardboard.
“I don’t want to know what’s in the kitchen,” Jenna says, covering her nose with her sleeve. The stench is bad enough to make your eyes water. I don’t know if it’s from her lying here dead for four days, or if it’s from all of the garbage. “This is a gut job, you guys. Christian, if you want to get your money back from this house, you’ll have to—”
“I know.” He kisses her head gently. “I know, babe. Nina, is there anything here that you want to keep?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
He shrugs. “Maybe she had jewelry or something? I don’t know.”