Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
She draws in a long breath and releases it with a smile. “Mmm … that’s good stuff. Are you going to grab your guitar and play me a song?”
“I’m going to crawl in bed with you.” I pull back the covers.
We lie next to each other, spooned like one person instead of two. She’s warm, and her chest rises and falls in time with mine.
“Zach?”
“Hmm?” My lips press to her head.
“You know how you always say I’m too generous?”
“Uh-huh.”
“When I die …” She says it so matter-of-factly it sucks all the oxygen from the room. “Will you do something extraordinary for someone else? Someone who needs it? Will you do it and think of me?”
I don’t want to talk about this.
“Because I don’t want you to ever question life or your purpose in it after I’m gone. So go big. Change a life. Make it your purpose.”
“And how will I know what that is?”
She shrugs, hugging my arms to her waist. I feel the sharp bones covered in loose skin, magnifying how much of her I’ve already lost. “You’ll know. It will be a feeling. Or you’ll see a sign.”
I grin despite the pain in my chest, despite the way it feels like she’s melting away in my arms—sand in an hourglass. In a blink, I will be hollow, empty, and out of time. “You and your signs.”
“Signs are everywhere. And it’s not that people don’t see them; they just don’t want to acknowledge them. I said yes to our first date because that day we were leaving the rainy terminal, you held your jacket over my head to keep me dry. When I was a young girl, my mom told me to never settle for a man who is anything less than a complete gentleman.”
With a laugh, I kiss her head again. “I was just trying to get into your pants.”
She laughs so hard it brings tears to my eyes. If I can’t hear her laugh, then I might as well be deaf.
If I can’t hold her, then why do I need arms?
The thought of life without her cripples me in ways I can’t even articulate. And that’s why she knows I will question life and my entire existence when she’s gone.
“I found you,” she whispers as if she can hear my thoughts. “When Tara died, I found you. And nobody could have told me that before she died. The idea of sharing my heart with another in that way was unimaginable. But … I found you. I’ve told you so many times, we have more than one soulmate.”
Nope. I don’t buy her soulmate theory. I’m not finding anyone else. But like so many other things, I don’t tell her that. It gives her a sense of peace to feel that I might find love again. And I will offer her anything—say anything—to ease her mind and grant her a feeling of peace. “Signs everywhere. Change a life. Go big. And find love again. Got it,” I say.
If she turns around, she’ll see all the tears streaming down my face. I hope she stays still and doesn’t feel my heart in my throat, barely beating and completely suffocating me with grief.
On Tuesday, Suzanne insists on a shower, makeup, and a silk scarf.
“Why the need to do all this for the girl who cleans our house?” I bend down and kiss her neck as she eyes me in her vanity mirror.
She caps her lip gloss and takes one more look at her reflection as I pull on a T-shirt and ruffle my wet hair.
“Her name is Emersyn, not the girl, and I like chatting with her. Did you know she has a textile design degree, but her love is photography?”
“Yes, I read her résumé. However, I wasn’t aware that she has a love of photography. I’m not surprised that someone with a fine arts degree is cleaning houses. I bet cleaning houses pays better.” I wink at her reflection.
Suzanne gives me her best stink eye, but she knows I’m right. “Anyway … I don’t like to scare her by looking like death warmed over, and I see the worry in her eyes when I’m not looking so great. She’s young. She needs to focus on life—being stylishly dressed with great hair and endless possibilities.”
“There’s more to life than hair and clothes. And you don’t care what your sister thinks.”
“Michelle shaved my head, and before that, she held my patchy hair back when I vomited on the days you were working. I think it’s a bit late to save her from my worst side. Besides, she can’t quit being my sister. If I scare Em, she might quit and find a job where death doesn’t loom all around her.”
The doorbell rings, prompting Suzanne to stand slowly. Each day renders her a little weaker.