Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I say, glancing around the restaurant for the first time and taking in the patrons.
“What is your biggest fear in life?” he asks me, pulling my attention back to him.
It’s an easy answer, and one that I don’t mind sharing with Nick. “To become like my mother.”
He smirks. “Doesn’t everyone feel that way about their parents?” He leans back. “We want to be better. Do better.”
“My fear is more than that. I don’t ever want to need a man. I want to always want a man. Does that make sense? My mother has always gone from one man to another. Either they have money like with Bryant Morelli, or they promise her ways of earning ungodly amounts of money like her current husband. She needs them. She’s never been able to go through life on her own. She’s never provided for her children on her own. She’s never been able to stand on her own two feet. She’s never been alone. Never. She hops from one man to the next.” I take a deep breath. “Which has always been my number one fear. I don’t want to be that kind of woman. I don’t want to be her.”
“Have you ever relied on a man?” Nick asks.
I shake my head. “I’ve never been in a serious relationship in my entire life. Hence me being a virgin.” I look down at the ground and try to focus on squashing the heat rising to the surface on my cheeks as it will only make it worse. “I refused to ever let anyone in. I haven’t ever needed anyone until…”
He leans forward and places his elbows on the table. “Until me,” he finishes the sentence for me.
I nod, not feeling the need to deny the fact. “Until you. Yes.”
“That fear has served you well,” he says. “You’re a very strong woman.”
I shake my head. “No. I pretend I’m a strong woman. If you could actually hear the thoughts that swirl in my chaotic mind, you’d realize just how wrong you are in thinking I’m anything but weak.”
“I disagree. We all put on our shields to protect the vulnerable parts of us. It’s what every warrior has had to do. You’re no different than the rest of us.” He leans back in his chair, crosses his leg and places his palm on the cane that’s resting against his chair. He gives one of his wicked smiles and says, “My smile is my shield. It gives me strength. It gives me control. It gives me the power to unsettle my opponent.”
“Your smile is terrifying,” I agree. “And yet… charming.”
He laughs. “Multifaceted.”
“I envy you,” I confess. “I watch how you conduct yourself. How you can make people like you but also fear you at the same time. You literally can do monstrous things and yet… people want to party with you. I find you fascinating.”
His smile fades from his face slowly and his eyes zero in on me. It’s when he looks at me like this that I know he’s studying me. He’s looking for something. He’s waiting… I don’t know, but I know I’m on display for his appraisal.
“What’s your biggest fear?” I ask, deciding to try to divert the attention off of me and move it to him.
He’s quiet for a moment and then answers, “The same as yours. I don’t ever want to become my father.”
“From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you have no risk of becoming like him.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Not on the surface. True. I’ve built a life that I will never have to worry about money. I will never have to work a nine-to-five, living paycheck to paycheck. I’ll never be basic. But”—he takes a sip from his wine, inhaling as he does—“I still have to fight the dark shadows that plagued him. I have to chase them away so I don’t plunge myself off a cliff to silence them.” He looks at me, his eyes darkening, his jaw tightening. “That’s my biggest fear. That I won’t be able to fight off those same demons that haunted him.”
“How do you know it wasn’t an accident? Maybe your father didn’t mean to go off the cliff,” I suggest, wondering if he ever considered the possibility.
He smirks. “There were no brakes, no skidding, no last-minute turn of the wheel.” His face hardens. “But what I do know is that the last image I have of my father alive is the minute the car went over the edge. The minute that we were at a point of no return. He turned to look at my mother and said I’m sorry right before everything went black.”
Jesus. I can actually see the morbid scene in my head.
“Here’s the thing about suicide,” Nick continues. “It’s a selfish act. One of the most selfish things a person can do. Because the person committing suicide has now given all their problems to the living. Their issues now are passed on to their loved ones. But my father… he was different. He was trying to take us with him. He didn’t want my mother to have to try to continue alone. I suppose he thought he was doing what was best for the family.”