Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I’d choose my here and now with Peter over any life that doesn’t have him in it.
“Yes, but I didn’t do it.” Nora looks up, her gaze somber. “I’m sorry, Sara. I saw your husband’s name on the list as I was sending it to Peter, and when we were in the hospital, I thought something about your nametag seemed familiar, but I didn’t put two and two together until later. And when I did…” She inhales. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”
“It does matter,” Rosa says, her brown eyes gleaming. “She didn’t do it because her husband stopped her.”
“Rosa—” Nora begins, but her friend places a hand on her knee.
“No, let me finish.” She faces me squarely. “If you’re going to blame anyone, Sara, it should be me. I told Señor Esguerra what Nora was planning, and he made sure that she wouldn’t go through with it.”
I blink. “You did? Why?”
I don’t really begrudge the lack of warning—they were obviously under no obligation to do me any favors—but I don’t understand why Rosa would interfere either way.
“Because Peter Sokolov is a dangerous man.” Her gaze is unwavering. “Maybe as dangerous as Señor Esguerra himself. And after everything Nora had been through, the last thing she needed was for him to come after her and Señor Esguerra for interfering. Your husband was obsessed with that list; he would’ve mowed down anyone who stood in the way of his vengeance.”
“Yes, I know,” I say dryly. “I was there.”
It’s Rosa’s turn to look away.
“So how did you end up married to him?” Nora asks, regarding me with a solemn stare. If not for those big, dark eyes of hers, with her petite stature and baby-smooth skin, she could be mistaken for a teenager. But her gaze betrays her.
It’s the gaze of a woman—one who’s known more than her fair share of suffering.
She said her husband kidnapped her when she was eighteen. What had that been like for her? I was twenty-eight when Peter came into my life, and I’ve had trouble coping with the emotional complexities of our twisted relationship. How had this girl done it at such a young age?
How had she been able to survive a man who, by all indications, is devil incarnate?
“I imagine the same way you ended up married to your husband,” I say as she keeps looking at me, waiting for my answer. “I started off hating Peter, and then, over time, it just… shifted. After he got George’s location out of me, Peter killed him and disappeared, but then he came back for me.”
I could tell her the whole messy tale, but I don’t need to. She understands; I see it in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Sara, for my role in your misfortune,” she says softly. “I hope one day you’ll forgive me. And for what it’s worth, sometimes you have to plunge into the darkness to find the brightest light. That’s what I had to do, at least.”
I smile, about to tell her that there’s nothing to forgive, when the baby begins to fuss. Rosa jumps up and runs over to the stroller, clearly glad to have something to do, and Nora rises to her feet as well.
“We should get going, let you get settled in,” she says as Rosa picks up the baby and quiets her cries by rocking her back and forth. “If you need anything—anything at all—we’re just a short walk away, over at the main house.”
“Thank you. You’ve been more than generous,” I tell her, and I mean it. It’s only now sinking in that she convinced her husband to give us shelter; her remark had been so offhand that it had nearly slipped past me.
Who knows if Esguerra would’ve let us land if not for her?
We might owe our lives to this young woman.
“It was nice seeing you again, Sara,” Rosa says, beaming at me brightly as she hands the now-calm Lizzie to Nora, and I smile back, even as my gaze is drawn to the baby.
“Would you like to hold her?” Nora asks softly, and I nod, an almost electric tingle running through me as I reach for her daughter.
She’s soft and warm, like a little bundle of heated pillows, and as I settle her against my shoulder, the way I saw Nora do it, she turns her head and stares up at me with huge blue eyes.
“She’s beautiful,” I whisper reverently—and she is. Her tiny head is covered with dark, silky-looking hair, and her smooth, delicate skin is a gorgeous shade of pale gold. All babies are supposed to be cute, but this one… She’s going to be a heartbreaker, I can tell.
What is my child going to look like?
Will he or she have Peter’s features?
“She likes you,” Nora says. “Look how she’s staring at you. She’s mesmerized.”
I tear my gaze away from the little creature in my arms to focus on her mother. “Your daughter is amazing,” I tell Nora sincerely, and she smiles.