Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“I have business to discuss with you,” I said.
“And we’ll talk tomorrow.”
Ivan had brought our conversation to a close and I knew it was because he was pissed at me over Charlotte.
****
Lottie
It was late and I couldn’t sleep.
The meal had gone better than I imagined. I also didn’t mind sitting across from my husband. I’d been able to steal glances at him. I’d not seen him for a little over a month, and I think I’d forgotten what he looked like.
I liked his eyes. They were blue, quite a bright, beautiful, intense kind of blue. I couldn’t help but be somewhat drawn to them. Were they the color of the ocean? I’d never seen the ocean, so I didn’t quite know what it looked like. I’d seen pictures and movies, but not in real life.
He’d eaten my food and enjoyed it. I loved that. Ive wasn’t one for compliments, but he’d told me it was good, so I was taking it.
Why couldn’t I sleep? I’d done my usual exploring in the morning, and then worked up a bit of a sweat in the kitchen. Ivan had also arrived, which in itself was stressful, even if he didn’t scare me. I knew I should be afraid. Either way, I couldn’t sleep. Maybe some warm milk, or some water, or maybe even a hot chocolate would do the trick.
Climbing out of bed, I leave the bedroom, being careful with my steps. I don’t know how Ivan and Ive would react to someone sneaking around the house. The last thing I wanted to do was get shot at while attempting to fall asleep.
No one stops me or shoots me on my way to the kitchen, and stepping inside, I see it is spotless. I go straight to the fridge and see some milk already open. Taking out the carton, I find a cup, fill it with milk, and then place it in the microwave. Each noise I make sounds incredibly loud and I don’t mean to be. Using the microwave means less dishes. I only have to worry about my mug, no saucepan or spoon.
I’ve never been one for hot chocolate, and as I rummage through the cupboards, I find a small package labeled “Hot Chocolate.” Looking over the packet, I wrinkle my nose as it looked gross. Opening the top of the lid, I take a sniff. It smelled okay, but I wasn’t a big chocolate lover. Putting the box away, I grabbed the vanilla and some sugar.
The microwave beeped, and I dived for it, quickly opening the door. Why was it so loud?
My milk was hot. I inserted a spoon, gave it a stir, attempting not to hit the side of the cup. Adding a couple of teaspoons of sugar and a dash of vanilla, I picked up my mug and left the kitchen, making sure to put everything away behind me.
I don’t go straight to my bedroom. Instead, I take a quick detour. My husband’s office door was completely closed, and there didn’t appear to be any light inside. I wonder if they finished their business. I wasn’t curious about their business. The less I knew, the better.
Moving past the library and the movie theater, I instead went to the game room. Hubert had taught me how to turn the room on, and I found the main power switch, lighting it up. This was kind of a bad idea as I was sure it made a big noise. Most of the games were on mute, but there was still a start-up sound. I waited several minutes for the sound of footsteps and threats. Nothing happened.
Taking a sip of my now warm sweet-vanilla milk, I look around. The games looked like a lot of fun. Reaching over, I lifted the triangle thing that contained the balls on the pool table and then touched one of the balls. They’re heavy. This surprised me. I’ve never played pool before in my life. Never touched one of the balls.
My father’s game room back at the clubhouse was off limits to me. I wasn’t allowed inside. Cassie got to go inside, not me. I wasn’t allowed to have fun.
Putting the ball down and placing the triangle thingy back in place, I stepped around the room and looked at the different arcade games. I’d never been to an arcade before. Reaching out, I hover over the start button on one game.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
I turn, nearly spilling my warm milk in the process. Ivan stood in the doorway. He wore a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.” He waved a hand in the air. “What takes your fancy?”
“What takes my fancy?” I asked, repeating his words.
“What game would you like to play?”
“Oh, er, I, er, I…” Had no idea what to say. He looked at me expectantly. What was I supposed to do or say?