Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
"It’s beautiful,” she says softly, and then she walks back out toward the door. “But I don’t know if I can stay here."
"Let me show you the rest of the house, and then you can decide,” I say, and she just follows me. I want to tell her to leave the bag in the bedroom, but I don’t want to push her. We walk back out to the hallway, and she looks at the stairs leading to the second floor. “There are a couple of bedrooms upstairs and a movie room,” I say, and she stops before we enter the massive family room, where I have writing on the pillars leading into the room.
The most important work you will ever do will be within the walls of your own home.
"This is where I spend most of my time." I smile at her, walking into the room. The massive off-white L-shaped couch faces the fireplace with a television on top. "This is where I usually fall asleep." I point at one side of the couch, where a pillow and a folded blanket sits. "This is my second favorite place,” I say, walking into the kitchen. “I redid it all when I moved in. My mother had it all in white, and I hated it."
She looks around, gazing out the bay window into the backyard at the pool I put in last year. She walks past the island and goes straight to the windows. "Is that all yours?" She points all the way to the back of the fence way in the distance.
"It is,” I say, and I don’t tell her that the land all around it is also mine.
"Do you want anything to drink?" I ask her, walking over to the fridge and pulling it open. Her head turns to watch everything I’m doing. "There is sweet tea or lemonade."
"Quinn.” I turn and look at her. She is wearing white jeans that are just a touch too big for her, but if my family has anything to do with it, she’ll be filling them out in no time. "I can’t stay here."
I close the fridge and walk over to the island. Putting my hands down on it, I try to rein in the anger I feel when I think about her leaving. “And why not?" I ask her.
"I can’t stay in this house alone with you,” she says, and my heart sinks. Her words slice through my heart.
"Do you not trust me?" I ask. “I would never ever hurt you." The thought that she would think I would hurt her is just too much to bear. I shake my head and look at her, walking to her. Standing in front of her, I reach my hand up to push her hair away from her face. “I would never ever hurt you," I whisper, my fingers touching the side of her face ever so lightly.
"I know,” she says softly. “It’s just …"
She doesn’t have a chance to say anything when we hear the front door open, and I see the fear creep over her. She steps forward, and her eyes go to the back door.
“Hello!" we hear Amelia shout out.
I take a step away from her as my heart hammers in my chest, my fingers still feeling her. “In here,” I say, hearing her walking close to the family room.
"Hi," she says, smiling. “I put my bag in the first bedroom." She walks in and goes straight to the fridge and opens it. She looks over her shoulder at us. “You can tell your mother was here."
"Don’t listen to her,” I lean forward and whisper.
"Don’t listen to him. He hasn’t had a fridge this full since I don’t know when. He usually doesn’t even eat here."
"Oh, come on." I cross my arms and roll my eyes. “I cook my own breakfast."
"When?" Amelia turns and looks at me.
"I don’t remember,” I say, and then I hear her laugh. It’s more of a giggle, but it’s better than anything I’ve ever heard in my life. I turn and see her with her hand holding the bag pressed against her stomach. “I can cook."
"I’m sure you can,” she says between laughing.
"Did you show her all the stuff you bought her?" Amelia asks, and I can see the look in her eyes change in the blink of an eye and if I wasn’t looking right at her you would never know.
"I didn’t have a chance yet,” I say.
"Oh, good,” Amelia says. “This is my favorite part of all of this." She claps her hands. “Come on,” she says to Willow.
"You need to lie down,” I say. “And I need to go and get your meds."
"Um," she says. “I don’t have any money on me, and I don’t even know where my bank card is,” she says, and I see her squeezing the bag in her hand harder and harder. "I’ll go get them tomorrow."