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)
I home in on her, on her even breathing and the warmth of her skin. On the miracle of having her back. Alive.
God.
How easily it could’ve been different. If Sabella wasn’t as strong as she is, I could’ve stood next to her grave this very moment, pressing a kiss on the cold wood of a coffin instead of on her neck. I’ve been so self-absorbed, so consumed with my hatred and vengeance that I couldn’t see the truth even if it stared me right in the face.
I would never have been able to banish her to a corner of the graveyard to rest there on her own. I’d sooner climb into that coffin with her and kill myself, because God knows, I can’t bear the thought of being separated from her. Not in life. Not in death. Not fucking ever. The bonds that tie us are too strong. Our bond was cast with tears and blood and sealed with hatred. It was nurtured with obsession and flogged with love. Those bonds are the strongest. The bonds forged in fire are unbreakable. It binds souls for eternity. It carves a single destiny into two hearts. I’ve been running in circles, going nowhere, but my path brought me back to where I was always supposed to be. Back to the beginning. To her.
She’s my destiny.
Sabella stirs. She exhales laboriously. The tightening of her muscles tells me she’s back in that dark place in her dreams. When she starts fighting my hold, I loosen my arms lest I injure her.
“Cara.” I kiss her temple. “Wake up. You’re safe. You’re here with me.”
She stills. Goes quiet. Her body turns slack.
I whisper a promise in her hair. “It’ll get better.”
It’s all I have to give her, all I can offer. A dead man’s hand on a sparkling bed of crushed ice. A feeble promise.
Fuck.
I wish I could take this away for her.
She turns and winces. “It was just a dream.”
For her benefit, I smile. “I know.”
Lifting her hand, she cups my cheek as she looks deep into my eyes. “Do you dream?”
Like this? “No.”
Her reply is wistful. “I wish I was more like you.”
I take her wrist and kiss her palm. “You don’t want to be me. You’re perfect.”
A war rages in her eyes. “Am I?”
I know what the life I dragged her into did to her. I know what bothers her. “You’ll always be perfect to me.”
“No matter how I change?”
“No matter how you grow,” I agree.
The answer seems to appease her. She relaxes, her body sinking deeper into the mattress.
The house is still quiet. We have precious little time. Soon, it will be filled with the voices of the children and the preparation for school with Heidi rushing everyone to have breakfast and to get dressed. Yet I don’t resent it. I love it. It’s what I wanted—to fill this old house with the voices of living people again. It’s a gift Sabella gave me for which I’ll always be grateful. I built the new house for my mother, but it was a gift of brick and mortar. Sabella is the one who gave my mother her family back. I think my mother is very pleased as she looks down on us. At peace. That’s why I told Heidi to open all the rooms and air them in preparation for the visit. It’s time to let the ghosts out and to welcome the living.
“Angelo?” Sabella says, sounding uncertain. “What are you thinking? You look far away.”
The sound of my name on her lips tears through me with the force of a grenade. I never knew that joy and pain went hand in hand, that the greatest joy hurt with the deepest pain.
I trace her jaw with a finger, taking in her beautiful face…the marks that will heal. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Liar,” she says, a smile softening her honey-brown eyes.
A commotion sounds in the hallway. The door flies open, and four bodies clad in pajamas pile through the frame. The kids jump onto the bed, squealing like squirrels.
“Easy now.” I hold an arm in front of Sabella’s body to prevent them from accidentally falling on her. “What happened to knocking before you come in?”
Sophie grins. “We forgot.”
“No more forgetting.” I give Sabella a meaningful look. “We’re going to have to lock our door.”
“It’s all right.” Sabella sits up with some difficulty. “I’m not dying. It’s just a few broken ribs.”
“And healing from a concussion and a hemorrhage,” I remind her.
“We wanted to say good morning,” Guillaume says.
I sit up next to Sabella and pull him onto my lap. “Now that you have, it’s time for breakfast and getting ready for school.”
He makes a face. “Do we have to go?”
“Yep.” I ruffle his curls. “It’s best to get back in the saddle sooner than later. We don’t want you to miss too many lessons.”