Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Two hours in a plastic chair and developing some old school writer's cramp was a lot less decisive than in the movies. I dropped Madison off at the loft to work on a recipe and went into the office to get a half-day at work.
She messaged me later with a picture of a pie. “Is it silly that I want to make a big family Thanksgiving dinner for us all?” she messaged.
I felt a squeeze in my chest, knowing she’d never had a family to cook for and celebrate with before now. “It’s not silly. It’s very sweet. We’ll help however we can,” I promised. Then I messaged Leo and Ethan to give them a heads-up on her idea. Thanksgiving together was important to her, and I wanted to make sure we supported her in that. They were both on board. It got me out of my head over the restraining order, just thinking about standing around drinking wine in a cinnamon-scented kitchen, waiting for the pies to bake with Madison and my brothers. Surely, we could find some way to pass the time…
20
ETHAN
The order of protection was in place. There had been no red flags since Noah and Madison moved into my loft. Everything was going better than fine. I loved waking Madison up with my mouth between her legs, loved sampling the rosemary and date scones she was working on, debating the merits of chess versus backgammon with my brothers. My life, which was already excellent, had become incredible in a short time.
Which is to say I wasn’t surprised when the other shoe fell. The head of security came out to speak with me in late November. It had been, of course, only the calm before the storm. A manila envelope, my last name printed neatly. Inside, photos of Madison getting on the elevator, another of Noah leaving the building. A third image of the two of them walking hand in hand, livid white scratches obscuring Madison’s face where someone—where Noah’s stalker—had used a key or her nails to claw at the picture in rage. The note said that the new girl had to die.
In other words, happy damn Thanksgiving week to us.
As soon as I was upstairs, I ordered them to pack their bags. There wasn’t time for discussion. We were going to the farmhouse. I wanted my family out of the city for the holiday weekend. The crazy woman would have too much time on her hands to make trouble and she was already closing in. I showed the photos to my brothers. They immediately swore and agreed with me that we had to leave.
Madison put up the sole protest, “It’s a picture of me. Big deal. I used to draw devil horns and mustaches in my yearbook on the girls I hated. I never tried to kill anyone. She’s mad. She’s lonely. She’s a little nuts. There’s no reason to run away from the city. Besides, I just got the shop open again. I don’t want to waste the whole weekend and everything I baked.”
“Baby, we’re going to protect you. You have to let us,” Leo said.
“Madison,” I said, clearing my throat, “do you want to agree to go to the farmhouse and make the feast there or do you want to have to listen to a long dull speech about your safety beforehand?”
“Okay, fair point, Ethan,” she said with a wry look, “Help me get the food packed up for the feast. I’m not letting this ruin our celebration.”
We helped her locate every item and every ingredient she needed and packed them according to her instructions, which took at least an hour. I chafed at the delay, but Noah elbowed me and reminded me that she was going along with the weekend away and that I could be patient until she had everything. I tried not to complain about the delay.
We drove out to the farmhouse and arrived after dark. By the time we’d unloaded the groceries, Leo had a fire going in the fireplace. It wasn’t long before we all crashed.
21
LEO
“Are you taking another picture?” Madison laughed. I nodded. I’d taken dozens of them all weekend. It had been a perfect time to show Madison the house I’d worked on with such devotion. It was not finished, but the bones were there, and the drywall was mostly in. The kitchen was finished and one bathroom. The HVAC was up to date as well. It made for comfortable living since we were without a bed. I had been dying to show her why I loved the place so much. I pulled her up the stairs and took her all the way to the attic to let her see the view out over acres and acres of fields, now a scruffy yellowish green-gray.
“In summer it’s so green you won’t believe it. And in early October—that one there—sunflowers,” I said proudly. She smiled up at me, “I can’t wait to see them.”