Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Then he showed up.
And everything changed.
FOURTEEN
Miller
What did you get someone who had absolutely everything?
Whatever that was, I needed to get one for Bellamy.
I never thought I would thank a man for drugging, kidnapping, and conning me into taking a job I didn't want to take.
Yet, here we were.
In a beautiful home in Zagori, Greece.
Cut off from the rest of the world.
With only one another to keep each other company.
And, believe me, Christopher and I found some very, very good ways to keep each other company.
Most of our ideas involved nudity.
And I was all for that.
I didn't know what was going on with Christopher's investigation, with his plan to track down Chernev. To be perfectly honest, I didn't want to know. Because I worried that if I knew, it would shatter this secluded little life we were living. Where there were no such things as friends or jobs or lives to get back to.
So long as I stayed willfully ignorant, I could pretend this was all there was.
The craziest part?
I was happy with that.
I was not someone who liked to be in the dark, who left everything in someone else's hands. No matter how capable those hands may be. I needed to be informed. I needed to be involved.
Except now.
Where I was pretty sure I would stick my fingers in my ears and hum like someone about to get spoilers regarding a highly anticipated movie, if someone even hinted at news from the outside world.
Because I was happy.
I had honestly not been able to name it for an embarrassingly long time. Seven days passed after we made it into bed before I could finally identify the light, floating feeling inside, the way everything seemed brighter and more beautiful.
But I found myself staring out the window one evening after dinner, my arms plunged in warm, soapy dishwater, watching Christopher run across the deck to chase the quickly disappearing form of his younger brother, who seemed very determined to get his sexual education from a woman almost old enough to be his mother.
And a big, stupid, goofy-ass grin spread until my cheeks hurt.
It was right then that I recognized the feeling that had been flooding my system for days.
Happiness.
It was approximately five seconds after that when the smile fell, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. Because if this was what happy felt like, I wasn't entirely sure I had ever been happy before. At least not for longer than a few moments.
That was sad, wasn't it? To make it to my thirties without knowing any sort of lasting joy.
That seemed sad.
But it made so much make sense.
Why I chased the fleeting pleasure of a job well done, the pride of respect among important men and women, the praise from my boss and colleagues.
Because it gave me just enough to keep going, to convince myself that my life was well balanced, that I was happy with it.
When, if I had even two full days put together where I wasn't darting off to some foreign place to fix someone else's problem, I would figure out that I had more than a few of my own that needed tending to.
Like the emptiness of my existence.
Like the fact that, if you asked me to describe happiness, I wouldn't have been able to come up with a single convincing definition.
And, I guess, if I thought about it, really dug deep and mucked through all the ugly of my life, I would have to admit that I hadn't felt anything but a vague sort of contentment.
Nothing like this.
Maybe a case could be made for dopamine and whatever other hormones were released when you were getting steady—and mind-blowing—orgasms on the regular.
But it was more than that.
I didn't even like cheapening it to that for a moment.
Because there was the sex. Which was amazing. There was companionship with a man I was finding I deeply respected, genuinely enjoyed getting to know on deeper levels. There was the enjoyment that came with teasing a teenager, poking at just the right places to get a reaction, but also sharing moments of imparted wisdom, of mutual interest. There was satisfaction in the little things. Like a clean kitchen. Like a home-cooked meal. Like sharing conversation and food and being fully, completely present for a change.
My mind often raced all over the place. Thinking of jobs. Of coworkers. Of my past. Of my possible future. Of what I was going to watch on TV while I stuffed my face with takeout.
I was never fully immersed in the moment.
Until I came here.
I realized with no small stab of guilt that I hadn't even thought about my crew back home in days. Those people who had taken up the dominant places in my head. And I damn near forgot them for a short span of time.