Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
He just grins manically at me. “You are only making me want you more.”
I roll my eyes and spin toward my mother’s back door. Dear God, at least he brought me here and didn’t just snatch me away immediately. I suppose that’s something. I’m also happy to scoot inside with one last, “Thanks for bringing me,” tossed over my shoulder right before I slam the door solidly shut.
“Who’s there?” my mom calls, naturally startled.
“It’s me, Mom.” I head into the living room where I can usually find her stationed on the couch in front of the TV.
She’s there, all right. Along with several of her favorite cats.
And Drew.
I freeze as soon as I enter the room.
“Hannah!” My mother jumps up and hurries over to me. She pauses, her face awash with confusion as she looks me up and down. “What are you wearing?”
But then, as she looks again, her eyes widen. “Hannah.” She breathes out, her eyes finally coming to mine.
My mother stares at me and she begins to cry. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it worked. You’re— You’re actually beautiful.”
She closes the last distance between us and embraces me. I swallow hard at the feeling of finally having the love and approval I’ve sought my entire life from my mother.
When she pulls back from me, her eyes are glistening with joy. “You and Drew are going to have such a beautiful life together. I just know it.” She raises her eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh thank God.”
And my heart shrivels and dies a little inside at the mother who could never see the beautiful dragon daughter who was always inside me. Instead, she only ever saw the paltry outer shell and judged my worth by that alone.
Then her eyes cloud over. “But I don’t understand— How?”
And then Drew is there. “None of that matters. She’s home.”
Before I have a moment to squeak out a protest, Drew has wrapped his arms around me and is squeezing me in a possessive hug. “My baby’s finally home where she belongs.”
And into my hair, he whispers, “I forgive you for leaving.”
Everything that happens in the next half hour is officially too much, too fast. My mother makes me go upstairs to shower and change, and when I come back down, things are far worse than I could have imagined.
Apparently, Drew and my mother have been meeting regularly since I took off to discuss “the problem”—that is, me.
“Isn’t this wonderful,” my mother declares, coming back in the room where Drew and I have been sitting semi-awkwardly since I got back downstairs after showering. “Now everything can go back to the way it was.”
I swing my head toward her but she misses my what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about? look. Drew, on the other hand, just nods and beams at her as he takes his teacup from the tray she’s brought. “Why, thank you so much, Mrs. Levine.”
Finally, he looks my way. “I sure am looking forward to getting back to our life. Everyone’s been asking about you. Don’t worry, I made excuses. That your illness just had you feeling worse than usual, and you needed to rest at home. Everyone expressed such sympathy.”
I blink at him. “But that’s not what happened at all. You didn’t tell them I broke off the engagement?”
He waves a hand. “I knew that was just you acting out. I’ve read about how the grief of dealing with the realities of one’s disability can make people do that.”
My mouth drops open. So he just… what? Didn’t take me breaking up with him seriously? As if I can’t even be trusted to make my own choices with my life? My illness only affected my body, not my mind. And even if he misunderstood it to be an intellectual disability because of how it slowed my speech sometimes, then what the hell had he been doing with me in the first place?
Which is when I key back into what my mom’s saying.
“So now that you’re back, you can move back in with Drew, and the plans for the wedding won’t even be interrupted because of how clever Drew’s been with handling everything.”
“What?” I choke out.
“Have some tea, honey, your throat’s dry.”
I take the cup of tea she hands me, but my hands are shaking. Which my mom notices and naturally misinterprets as having to do with my illness and not what it actually is—shaking rage.
I take a few long sips if only to try to calm myself.
When I finally speak, I talk with strong, clear syllables. “I’m so glad the two of you have been getting along so well. But Mom,” I address her directly. “I was hoping to just spend some time here after my trip.”
She just waves her hands. “Well I’m sorry but I just can’t. I’ve already converted your room into my workout space and besides”—she beams at Drew—“it really is important to set a good example for people to see you two together again before the wedding. Drew’s willing to let you come back to him right away.”