Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
He released me, brought his thumb to his neck, and sliced it across, holding eye contact the entire time.
“But I can.”
I woke up on Christmas Day with a raging hangover and a text from Frankie, unsure which of the two was worse.
Franklin Townsend: Momma and I are leaving tomorrow. You better come here and take care of your wife, or I swear to God, you will have nothing to return to. I am going to wreck your entire house, Costa.
Rage certainly ran in the Townsend blood.
I continued day drinking, ignoring the Townsend women while they tried to reach me on my phone, through Zach, and his landline. Obviously, I’d arranged for Hettie and Vernon to arrive a few hours before Natasha and Franklin were due to board a plane back to Georgia. They’d take care of Dallas while I wallowed on Zach’s couch.
At some point, I grew bored of drinking and staring at the walls and ventured out of his place. The bitter cold nipped at my face as I trudged through unplowed snow. A ghost town of closed bars and restaurants met me at every turn. I roamed through the streets until frostbite formed on my cheeks, then returned to Zach’s place and caved, bending to my heart’s will.
Romeo Costa: How is she doing?
Franklin Townsend: Come and see for yourself, jerk.
Romeo Costa: I’m busy.
Franklin Townsend: So am I. Don’t text me anymore.
Damn her.
A sleepless night followed the miserable day. Once the sun skulked up the sky and I glanced at my watch, realizing Frankie and Natasha had already taken off to Georgia, I called Hettie.
“Are you there?” I paced the living room, wearing out the rug beneath my socks (the Sun household enforced a strict no-shoes policy). “Is she okay?”
“Good morning to you, too.” I heard the crunch of melted snow and ice crushing under her boots. Her labored breaths heaved across the line. “Actually, I’m stuck in New York because of this shitty-ass weather. Buses and trains are down. They’re only now salting the roads, so—”
“And you’re telling me now?” I roared, darting to my shoes and shoving them on, policy be damned. I laced them in record time, already slipping into my coat. “Vernon won’t be there until afternoon. Dallas is all by herself.”
The thought made my skin crawl. She was sick. She might have loathed me, detested me, and wanted me nowhere near her—but she was still sick. I zipped out of Zach’s door, advancing toward his Tesla. Surely, he wouldn’t mind. And even more surely—I did not care.
“Well, to be honest, Romeo, you’re literally in town, so …” Hettie trailed off. She thought I’d stayed with my parents.
“Just get your ass there as soon as possible.”
I hung up and floored it so fast back to my house, I beat Waze by fifteen minutes.
Utter silence and an empty house greeted me when I arrived. I cursed myself a thousand times over as I darted up the stairs to Shortbread’s room. I opened the door without knocking. Niceties were a luxury I couldn’t afford.
A duvet draped over her succulent curves. It was only when I got closer that I noticed her closed eyes. Blotchy red spots peppered her cheeks. Her fever must have persisted. Strewn across her nightstand were tissues, an assortment of liquid medicine, and bottled water.
The gravity of her illness slammed into me. Yet again, I found myself sick to my stomach with self-loathing. How had I chosen my precious ego over my beautiful wife?
“Sweetheart.” I rushed to her bedside, setting a hand on her forehead. Oven-hot. “When was the last time you had a shower?”
“Leave me alone,” she croaked, her eyes still closed. “You seem to be good at that lately.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I kneeled next to her bed, taking her hand in mine. It felt lifeless between my fingers. I pressed my lips to it. “I’m drawing you a bath.”
“I don’t want you to do anything for me. Hettie will be here soon enough.”
She would rather wait for someone else to help her. Dallas twisted her face to the other side, so I couldn’t see it. Each time I thought the knife in my heart couldn’t twist deeper, she proved me wrong.
I filed into her en suite, drawing her a bath. While I was at it, I swapped the water for her rose, since I knew how much she liked the ugly, bare thing then made her tea and peanut butter toast.
I settled on her mattress and fed her, bringing the bagel to her lips and uttering coaxes. “Just one more bite, sweetheart. You can do this. I know you can. I’ll buy you all the Peruvian food in the world if you finish this bread.”
She didn’t answer. Certainly didn’t thank me. Just swallowed small bites of the toast without tasting it. I couldn’t blame her. Regardless of how she felt for me, I knew for a fact she would nurse me to health had I been in her position. I was a coward. A childish fool for punishing her for not loving me.