Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
My fingers pause when I spot her standing in the middle of the back garden. Still wearing her evening dress.
While the rain pours down on her.
I curse under my breath, then storm out of the office and grab an umbrella on my way outside.
A cold gust of wind tightens my face and the heavy sound of rain, now unconcealed by the house, roars in my ears like crashing waves.
It takes me some time to reach the back after narrowly escaping slipping on the cobbled path zigzagged by patches of grass.
My feet come to a staggering halt when I finally see her standing in the middle of the rain. The wet dress sticks to her body like a second skin, outlining the slope of her breasts and the curve of her arse.
She’s staring up at the sky, and the lamppost behind her casts a soft halo on her face as rivulets of rain stream down her temples, cheeks, and neck before clinging to the dress and dripping to the ground.
My steps are careful as I approach her and hold the umbrella over our heads, battling the stubborn gust of wind that’s scrambling to whisk it away.
“Ava, is everything okay?” I ask the rhetorical question because I can see nothing is okay.
I’m not even speaking to her right now. Instead, I’m talking to a ghost of her. Someone who checked out long ago despite my desperate attempts to revive her.
She steps away from me and out from under the umbrella and continues staring at the cloudy, starless sky. So I slide beside her and hold the umbrella far back so as not to block her view but still protect her from the downpour.
“Let’s get you inside, beautiful.” My arm wraps around her waist as I apply slight pressure to push her forward. For a moment, she follows my lead, but then she comes to an abrupt halt.
Her head tilts back in a mechanical movement and she faces me, but she’s not really seeing me. Her eyes are pale, unfocused.
She’s not herself.
My wife is nothing more than a stranger right now.
Not even a shadow of herself like in some instances.
If her parents, or even Ariella, find out about this, they’ll take her away to where they think she should receive treatment.
I’ve been there, done that, and would not repeat it even if a gun is held to my head.
Besides, I’m her legal guardian, not them, so they can’t do fuck unless they’re ready to sabotage and sully her lucid moments.
“You think I’m beautiful?” Her voice is low, a bit haunted, lethargic, and nothing like Ava’s snarky, energetic one.
But I nod anyway.
“Say it again.” She sucks in a sharp breath and slides a cold hand on my chest, her movements awkward and stiff. “Tell me you find me beautiful.”
“I find you so extremely beautiful, it hurts to look at you sometimes.”
“More beautiful than your ex-girlfriends?”
“I’ve never had a girlfriend and even if I had, they wouldn’t hold a candle to you.”
The wind howls, nearly blowing the umbrella away as the rain falls harder, soaking my arm that remains unsheltered to offer Ava the entirety of the space.
She slides a wet hand to my face, caressing and poking my cheek as if I’m a doll. “Are you real?”
“One hundred percent.”
“What if you stop being real?”
“I won’t.”
She strokes my lips. “I think you’re beautiful, too.”
And then, in a massive upturn, she grabs both my cheeks, stands on her tiptoes, and seals her lips to mine.
I’m momentarily taken aback, considering she’s never touched me intimately when in this state. She barely tolerates my touch and would honestly prefer Sam or even Henderson over me.
Sam is usually the one who bathes her, provides her with her comfort candy floss bucket, and stays by her side until she finally tires out.
In fact, my presence seems to upset her and trigger these episodes, which is why I limit my time in her presence and don’t touch her unless absolutely necessary.
But then she’s been fine for weeks, despite that miscalculation when I couldn’t resist finger-fucking her. She’s been talking, walking, reading, practicing cello, and annoying the hell out of me with every word out of her mouth.
So I made the mistake of thinking this was a fresh start. Which is why I made the further fucking error of continuing to touch her, dating her, and presenting her with a chance to pick up her passion again.
Ava’s teeth sink into my lower lip and a metallic taste explodes on my tongue as she whispers against my mouth, “Do you want to know a secret?”
“What secret?”
“I’m going to hurt you.” She speaks even lower before she goes down from her toes, eyes lost, posture hunched, and lacking the elegance of her usual self.
“Why are you going to hurt me?” I ask.
“Shh.” She places a finger on my lips. “It’s a secret. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”