Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Is she for real? How can she mean that after everything she’s been through? After everything I’ve put her through? Is this another lie, a way of getting closer to me so her life will be easier?
Something inside me recoils from the question. There’s nothing but sincerity radiating from her smile and gentle touch. I find myself leaning into that touch, into her, before I know what I’m doing. I didn’t mean to allow her to wrap her arms around me, but that’s what she does. I settle in against her, and she holds me, not saying a word. She doesn’t need to. This is more than enough. I can almost believe she has what it takes to heal my blackened heart when she enfolds me in her arms and allows me to process everything.
“I’m with you,” she whispers after what feels like a long time but isn’t nearly long enough. “I’m here. And we’ll get to the bottom of this together.”
Yes. I want that, too.
35
ALICIA
“I wish I understood. It doesn’t seem like something he would do.” Enzo joins me at the stove while I scramble eggs. One of the few things I’m actually good at cooking. Since he pulled back the number of guards around the house, it’s easier to feel comfortable hanging around in nothing but a nightshirt. We could be an actual, normal couple getting ready to eat brunch.
Except for the way he can’t let go of his grandfather’s final wishes—and whether or not things actually unfolded the way it’s looking more and more like they did. He can’t accept it. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe because you’ve known him for so long.”
“What do you mean?” There’s a difference in the way he asks that. No demand, no edge of a threat in his voice. We’ve come a long way. I wonder if he notices.
“It’s easier for me to understand. And I do. I got it right away.” He grunts, and I glance his way. “I’m sorry. But it’s true. Everything clicked into place for me as soon as I heard it.”
“That makes one of us because I can’t make it click into place.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” I take the eggs off the heat and slide bread into the toaster. I don’t think it’s ever been used before—it’s practically sparkling. Like so much of this kitchen is only for show.
He sips his coffee, staring at nothing. His brows are knitted together in frustration, and he keeps shaking his head slightly. “I just don’t get it. Doesn’t seem like something he would do—at least, not to me.”
“Like I said, it’s because you knew him. And you loved him, and that’s good. You’re lucky you had somebody like that in your life.”
He laughs softly, like the word love never came into it, while accepting the plate I hand him. “I should be cooking for you. You need your rest.”
“I’m pregnant, not sick.” And even though the thought of eating breakfast earlier was enough to turn my stomach, today’s bout with morning sickness has passed. Now I have a raging appetite. “And no offense, but we both know you can’t cook.”
“What, you mean there’s more to it than ordering something on an app?” I’m surprised at his little joke. It sounds good, and it feels good. I don’t like to think of him wallowing in this. If he can make little jokes, he’s not completely gone, not totally lost in his troubled thoughts.
And he’s sharing them with me. He’s opening up to me. It’s probably wrong for me to revel in that, considering how upset he is, but there’s no stopping that little part of me that cheers every time he shares a little more of his inner thoughts.
We sit down at the table, facing each other. “This is very good,” he grunts between forkfuls of egg. He then slathers butter and Jelly on a slice of toast. It’s good to see him eating with gusto. I’m sure knowing Alvarez isn’t a problem anymore goes a long way toward his change in mood.
“I can fumble my way around the kitchen if I have to. I guess I never had much of a chance to learn how to cook.”
“We’ll have to give you the chance.”
“You want to keep me barefoot and pregnant, is that it? Chained to the stove?”
His smile widens. “Using a chain just long enough that you can make it to the bedroom.” I almost choke on my eggs, and he laughs softly. “I used to hear that one sometimes, growing up.”
“Let me guess. One of your grandfather’s pearls of wisdom.”
“Yes, actually. I did hear that from him.”
“He was a charmer.”
He nods, smirking. “He had his good points, too. I know that might not be easy for you to accept, but he was a good man in his own way.” He’s still grieving, so I’m not going to argue. I find it hard to believe that man had a shred of goodness in him, no matter how many diamonds he gave me for my wedding.