Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
This was no longer my home. This was now her home, and I was only a guest.
“Welcome, Anabelle. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. Your pictures don’t do you justice. You’ve been blessed with such beauty.”
Frozen. I was frozen to the spot with a dumbfounded look frozen on my face. Nothing came out of my mouth as I stood three steps below her blinking like a deaf mute.
“Anabelle.” My father’s voice boomed through the open doors before he appeared. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m glad you made it okay. Was your flight smooth?” My gaze flicked to his, and I was still only able to nod. “Good, good. Let’s get you settled.” He grabbed my bags and moved them into the foyer where a housekeeper took it upstairs. “Ana, I want you to meet Shayla,” he said, gesturing to the bubbly blonde.
Hesitantly, I stuck my hand out and muttered a simple, “Hey.”
“Nonsense.” She knocked my hand away and pulled me into a hug. Aaaaaaaaaaand we were touching. I think my hands tapped her back. Maybe. It must have appeased her, because she pulled me back and looked me over. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get settled. We’ll have dinner in a couple of hours. I can’t wait to talk to you more.”
My dad patted me on the shoulder as I walked past, heading for the stairs. “I’ve got some work to do. I’ll see you at dinner. Welcome home.”
“Do you need me to show you the way?” Shayla offered excitedly.
Pausing on the second step, I turned slowly and spoke with a dry voice. “No, Shayla. I think I can find my way.” I turned and headed for my room.
Home? Yeah right. This was no longer my home.
Walking in the door to my old room, I looked around. It was now a guest room, stripped of everything that once held anything about me. Most of it I had taken to Ohio, and I guessed the rest was packed away. Hell, maybe Shayla tossed it when she’d decorated her home.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and flopped down on the bed.
Me: Kidnap me. Please.
Kevin: That bad?
Me: Worse.
Kevin: I’m on my way.
Even though his response made me laugh, it made my chest ache more. I missed home. I missed Kevin.
Me: I wish.
Kevin: Anytime you need me, I’m a phone call away. Just get through this and then you can come home and I can kick your ass in Twisted Metal all night long.
Me: Now *you* wish!
Kevin: ;)
Dinner was a bigger mess than I could have imagined.
Shayla was decked out in heels and a silk dress. My mom had always expressed one should look one’s best, but she also knew how to relax and enjoy a family dinner. I wanted to remind Shayla it was just dinner and to let her hair down, but I wasn’t sure she’d get it. She seemed a little spacey.
She was also sporting the entire jewelry section of a Lifeway Christian store. A gold cross necklace, gold cross earrings, and when she lifted her wine glass, I saw a gold cross ring. It should’ve been all the warning I needed for her next question, but it still baffled me somehow.
“So, do you like church?” she asked as a woman made her way around the table, serving our food. What was this place? Who were all these people helping to run the house? When we lived here, my mom took care of everything. What the hell was going on? “Because we go to church a couple of times a week.” I couldn’t stop the raised eyebrows I directed at my dad. He’d never gone to church with us. Seeing my reaction, she continued. “Well, I do. Richard comes when he can. He’s a very busy man.”
He’s a very non-religious man. He’d hated church when Mom had made him go.
“Um, I mainly go for the big holidays, like Christmas and Easter, since I’m a good Catholic like that,” I said, joking.
Her eyes bugged out a little. “Oh,” she clutched her cross, worrying it between her fingers. Probably saying some Hail Marys for me. “Well, we’re Baptist and we take our religion very seriously.”
Once again, my eyes moved to my father as I drank from my glass. He’d been quiet since we sat down and left me to deal with Shayla as he focused on cutting his steak.
“Interesting.” It was the only response I could come back with. What the hell was I supposed to say?
Dinner regressed from there. The food was great, probably made by some five-star chef Shayla had hired. But the conversation was stilted when it came from me or my dad. Shayla did her best to carry on throughout dinner, telling me about her bible study and how she spent her time redecorating the house, but I didn’t care. I just wanted it to be done and go to my room. Or better yet, to go home.