Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
The unjustness hits me squarely in the chest, triggering all those emotions I bottled up since the last time he left. The anger is like a magnifying glass on the sentiments warring inside me. My senses sharpen, the sounds, smells, and sights imprinting in my mind. The fragrance of the cinnamon cookies baking in the oven is no longer homely or cozy. Everything is like charcoal—black and bitter.
I continue rolling out the dough, only freezing momentarily at the opening of the front door. Sophie is so engrossed in cutting out dough shapes with the cookie cutters that she doesn’t register Angelo’s arrival until he appears in the kitchen door and says, “There are my favorite girls.”
The words only escalate my anger.
I’m not his favorite.
I’m nothing to him but a vessel for breeding.
I don’t look up until Sophie drops the flower-shaped cutter and runs to him. He stands in the doorframe with two gift bags in his hands, his dark gaze trained on me. Sophie wraps him up in a hug that demands his attention. He drops the bags and lifts her into the air with a swirl that makes her squeal.
“Where have you been?” she asks with a pout and a frown when he puts her down. “I didn’t know if you were coming back.”
“I’ll always come back. You never have to worry about that.”
“I had measles,” she says with a proud tilt of her chin.
He goes rigid. “You had what?”
“Measles,” she says, taking on an important air. “It’s when you have red spots all over your body and you have to lie in a cool bath to break your fever.”
“I’m calling the doctor,” he says in a tight voice, taking his phone from his pocket.
“No, silly.” Sophie puts her small hand on his arm. “It’s already gone. Sabella took care of me.”
Staring at her, he brushes away his jacket and props the hand in which he holds his phone on his hip while rubbing the other over his mouth. He doesn’t seem convinced about not getting a doctor out here. With the hard, determined set of his jaw and the feverish light burning in his eyes, he seems ready to fly a doctor in via helicopter at this very moment.
“She’s right,” I say. “She’s over the worst. It’s been more than a week. She shouldn’t be contagious any longer.”
“I’m so sorry, Sophie.” He slips his phone back in his pocket, but the distressed look doesn’t vanish from his face. “If I’d known…” He catches my gaze. “I would’ve been here for you.”
It’s a subtle apology, one I’m not inclined to accept readily. The only thing preventing me from telling him that intentions don’t equal actions is his horrified, somewhat tormented expression.
Sophie points at the white bags with the pink ribbons on the floor. “What are those?”
He holds my gaze for a moment longer before he picks up the bags and hands the bigger one to Sophie. “This is for you.” He gives her the small parcel. “And this is for Sabella.”
Her eyes light up. “For me? A gift?” Sophie rushes over and puts the smaller bag on the table. “Here, Sabella.” Already digging into her bag, she says, “Open it. I want to see what Angelo gave you.” She pulls out a coloring book and crayons. “Oh wow. This is awesome.” She runs back to him and gives him another hug. “Thank you.” Jumping up and down, she says, “Open yours, Sabella.”
“Yes,” Angelo drawls, crossing his arms. “Open it.”
I give him a cutting look before washing and drying my hands. He’s using Sophie as a buffer between us, knowing very well I can’t refuse in front of her. I untie the ribbon and pull a small box from under the layers of tissue paper.
The Hart Diamonds logo on the lid makes me pause.
Sophie claps her hands and chants, “Open it. Open it!”
My smile is strained as I flip back the lid. A pair of teardrop diamond earrings sparkle on a bed of blue velvet.
Sophie pulls on my arm. “Can I see?”
I show her the jewelry.
“Wow. They’re pretty. Do you like them, Sabella?”
I snap the box closed before putting it aside. My voice is flat. “Yes, they’re pretty.”
She takes Angelo’s hand. “Look. Cookies!”
He studies me as he walks to the table before breaking our eye contact to inspect our work. “They look delicious. You’ve been busy.”
“I know the alphabet too.” In Sophie’s excitement, her tongue trips over the words. “Do you want to hear it?”
“Absolutely.” He smiles at her. “In a minute. I first need a word with Sabella in private.”
“It’ll have to wait.” My manner is cool. “We have cookies in the oven and another batch about to go in.” I add with a bite in my tone, “As you can see.”
“In that case, I’ll get the groceries from the car.” Turning to Sophie, he asks, “Would you like to help?”