Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Trust me, boy, when she comes along, you’ll be ready for anything.
That old man is wiser than I ever gave him credit for. But I’m really not ready for this.
A strained smile passes over Billy’s lips. “I saw something change in her.” He ignores my lie, undoubtedly knowing that it is a lie. I just hope he knows that it’s a lie only on my part. I hope he knows his wife well enough to know that she would never betray him. “There was a lightness in her that she tried to hide from me,” he goes on, coughing a few times before composing himself. “She’s never been any good at lying. How did you meet her?”
My fidgeting becomes more profound. “Would you like some water?”
“No, I want to know how you met my wife.”
Wife. His wife. “She was walking Boris.”
“You have a dog?”
I nod when he looks at me, not feeling it necessary to divulge that I obtained Steve after meeting Lo. I also don’t feel it’s necessary to enlighten him on the circumstances of our first encounter. Without knowing him on a personal level, I know that the knowledge of his wife’s intentions that night will destroy him. It would any decent man, and I know Billy is a decent man. “A beagle.”
“I like beagles. Crafty characters.”
I hold back my frown, feeling like I’m floating somewhere in the twilight zone. “Steve is definitely crafty.”
“Steve?” He almost laughs, but a coughing fit turns his amusement into more discomfort.
“You sure you don’t want that water? Can I get you anything at all?”
“A new body?”
I smile at his humor, and silence falls, though it’s not uncomfortable. It’s peaceful. I’m sitting in a room with the husband of the woman I’m in love with. A few weeks ago, before I knew of the tragedy surrounding their relationship, I would have told you that if I was ever put in a room alone with him, I probably would have punched him repeatedly for making Lo so miserable. Now, ironically, I’d do anything to rid him of the agony he’s in. It’s etched on his gaunt face. This young man who had his whole life ahead of him. A young man who married the woman of his dreams. Do we have an invisible date stamped on our forehead? When we enter his world, is it already determined when we will leave? I reach up to my forehead and rub there, stupidly wondering what my date is. How long have I got? How much time to waste? Or, rather, how much more time to waste.
Billy turns his head and regards me closely, and I wait for where he might lead our unexpected conversation next. You could give me a lifetime to ponder that, but I would never have anticipated the question he asks me next. “Are you in love with my wife?”
I suck in air and go rigid, staring into eyes that are full of death. I know I don’t need to answer. He’s looking so deeply into my eyes, I’m certain he must see all of my sins. And, make no mistake, loving Lo is a sin. “Deeply,” I whisper, my short, if powerful confession, rolling off my tongue naturally. I can’t hold back my truth. “And I’m so very sorry.”
“Sorry for me?”
“No. I’m sorry for me, because I know Lo inside out, and I know you will always own her heart.”
He blinks rapidly, looking surprised. “I just need her to live again,” he says, so quietly I hardly hear him. But the plea in his tone? It screamed. He closes his eyes, his wheezing terrible.
“Should I get the doctor?” I ask, getting to my feet. “Do you need some pain relief?”
“I’m done with it.” He inhales deeply, shakily. “When I’m unconscious, they can put whatever they like . . . in . . . me.” Another breath. “But for now, I need my mind . . . c-clear.” He swallows. It looks painful, just that small movement. Then he drags his heavy eyes open. I find myself lowering slowly to my chair, pensive and edgy. “I wish you’d have come along sooner.” His words are so honest and filled with sincerity. Part of me wishes the same thing, but the other part wonders if I’d have survived this for longer. “You'll look after her for me when I’m gone.” He’s not asking me. “Help her live . . . again.”
Fucking hell, I’m struggling to keep it together. The man before me is dying, but he’s lucid and strong. Not in body, but in mind. It’s a lot more than can be said for me. I don’t want to give him the impression that he’s entrusting his wife’s wellbeing to a fucking pussy. “You have my word,” I whisper on a swallow. I’m utterly struck.