Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Do you always slice that fast? You’re gonna take one of your fingers off, Sig.”
“Hopefully not the middle one. I need that quite a lot.” I slid the onion pieces aside and began dicing garlic, as if in a race against time. “Haven’t you heard the rule about never disturbing the chef?”
“I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“She just said I needed to take it easy. She didn’t say I couldn’t stand and chop vegetables.” She moved in closer. “Seriously, what can I do?”
Her flowery scent caused my body to react. I couldn’t even look at her, because I knew I’d soften if I caught a glimpse of her beautiful face or looked into her always-curious eyes.
“I appreciate the offer, Abby, but I prefer to cook alone, if you don’t mind.” Or rather, your nearness is making me uneasy.
“Sure. No problem,” she muttered, disappointment in her voice.
She didn’t deserve my cold demeanor. Abby was clearly trying to connect with me, and I’d put a block up. I wouldn’t be able to manage the situation this way for the next nine months, but this was what I needed for tonight.
I prepared three different trays of dinner: a vegetable lasagna, a chicken and mushroom casserole, and a shrimp, pesto, and pasta bake. I popped the shrimp dish in the oven for tonight and placed the other two meals in the freezer.
Once dinner was baking, I went into the living room, where Abby was showing Lavinia something on the telly.
Lavinia patted the spot next to her. “Sigmund, come sit. Abby is showing me her family’s shop.”
I stepped farther into the living room.
Abby paused the telly and looked up from where she sat with her legs crossed. “A local news station did a feature on our store a few years back, when my mother was still alive. It’s posted on YouTube. I pulled it up to show her.”
“Ah.” I sat down.
She pressed play again. A brown-haired woman who looked an awful lot like an older version of Abby was being interviewed. The reporter followed her around a shop that seemed to be exploding with T-shirts and knickknacks.
I looked over at Abby. She was quiet, her eyes glued to the screen. She looked like she was about to cry. I realized that she, like me, truly understood loss. That might have been why she had so much patience with me. Like Britney, Abby’s mother had been too young to die.
“When you reopen the shop someday, I have first dibs on the giant lobster hat,” I announced.
She turned to me and smiled. “You got it.” Her eyes lingered on mine. She was trying to read me, probably wondering why I’d decided to joke around after having been a miserable prick most of the day.
But I couldn’t handle it, the intensity of her eyes. The only thing worse, perhaps, was when she’d caught me staring at her that night at the pub. For many reasons, I quite liked looking at her. Which was unsettling. It wasn’t just because she was pretty. That was the obvious reason. But I also liked to listen to her. Her voice was pleasant. And when in conversation, she spoke with conviction, always connected to what the other person was saying. I liked to observe that, even if it was my dirty little secret. It had to be done stealthily. I’d vowed never to let her catch me doing it again.
I cleared my throat. “Well, the timer is set for dinner. It should go off in about thirty minutes. I’m going to head back to London.”
The light in Abby’s eyes dimmed. “You’re not staying to eat with us?”
“No,” I said as I grabbed my coat. “You two enjoy it.”
CHAPTER 11
* * *
Sig
Track 11: “Memories” by Maroon 5
That night, desperate to drown out the day, I decided to arrange a meet-up with a woman I’d met some time ago on a dating app. I’d hooked up with Alaina once, and I wasn’t normally one for encores, but quick and easy was what I needed tonight—something to ensure that I felt nothing, least of all the emotion of what had taken place today.
When Alaina showed up at my flat, she looked ready to pounce, dressed in a tight, red getup and thigh-high leather boots. “I’m surprised you called,” she said as she entered. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you again. What’s been going on?”
“I’m not in the mood to talk, if that’s okay.”
Her eyes lit up. “Fine with me.” She tossed her purse. “The last time we didn’t talk was one of the most memorable nights of my life, so…”
I pulled her toward me, kissing her hard and willing myself to escape into this forced connection. This was it, the life I was used to. Empty. Meaningless. Worry free. No fears for the future. Just…numbness. Moving my lips over hers with greater force, I somehow felt worse with each second that passed. Feeling nothing was the goal, yet this had the opposite effect, causing me to feel negative emotions like disgust. I’d wanted this woman here to take my mind off of today, yet there was no part of me that actually wanted her.