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)
My heart rips in two when I close the door. No one said it was going to be easy. But this is life. Death is part of it. It’s the choices we made. No, not we. Me. It’s the choices I made. It’s me who’ll live with them. And Sabella. She’ll have to live with the choices I made because I never gave her one. She’s suffering from my mistakes, and she doesn’t deserve a single ounce of the pain I dumped on her. She’s always been innocent. Her only sin was to be mine. To have been promised to me. I’ll make things right if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll dedicate my life to that goal. With all the shit I put her through, I’ve got my work cut out for me.
The bruise in my chest feels raw by the time I open the last two doors on opposite ends of the hallway. My mother and father’s rooms. They look the same, but they’ve been cleaned. The windows are open, letting the crisp air of an early spring inside. The voile curtains lift in the breeze that blows in from the vineyard. The bed linen is new. The colors are different. Not brown and black with gold trimmings but butter yellow like a winter sun. Not purple with silver stitching but blue like the sky in summer.
Good. I’m glad Heidi added the new touches. It somehow lessens the pain. I’m equally glad she didn’t put anyone in these rooms. I’m ready to open the doors, but I’m not quite ready for that.
Leaving my memories behind, I fetch the tray Heidi prepared from the kitchen and carry our lunch upstairs.
Sabella sits up in bed when I enter. A book lies open on her lap.
“Reading?” I ask as I leave the tray on the nightstand.
She smiles. “Trying to.”
I take the book and turn it over. “Marine life?”
“A gift from Mrs. Campana. The pharmacist.”
“I know who Mrs. Campana is.” I put the book back in her lap. “That was very considerate of her.”
“She knows I wanted to become a marine biologist. I mentioned it to her once.”
She seems a little more upbeat. Yes, she gives me smiles and humor, but I know inside she’s hurting. I know what she’s buried under the surface because I buried those skeletons too.
Studying her face, I ask, “Did you enjoy the visit?”
“It was good to see them. They’re very kind to me.”
I draw up a chair and sit down. “Then they should visit more often.”
“They’re not asking questions about what happened.” Her brow pleats. “I think they suspect. I’m worried about you.” Her slender throat bobs as she swallows. “About what will happen to you if the truth comes out.”
“They can suspect all they like. As long as we stick to what you told the officer, nothing is going to happen to me.”
The look she gives me says she’s not convinced.
“Hungry?” I ask to change the subject. Not waiting for her reply, I hand her a plate and a fork. Heidi made chicken-a-la-king.
While we eat, I tell her about my visit to the village and the improvements that will be made. To my surprise, I find that I enjoy this—simply talking to her. I like sharing the mundane details of my day. Maybe it’s the interest she shows. Maybe it’s the approval in her eyes. Whatever the reason, I’m reluctant to leave when our plates are empty, but she needs to rest.
“Do you want me to stay?” I ask, getting to my feet. “I can do with a nap.”
Her smile is sweet. “You have to stop lying to me. You’re many things, Mr. Russo, but you’re not an afternoon napper. I bet you have tons of work waiting on your desk.”
Her accurate analysis makes me grin. “Fine. I’m not tired, but I’d like to hold you in my arms while you sleep. Yeah. I’d like that very much. There. Is that honest enough for you?”
She laughs but quickly swallows it down with a flinch. “What about your work? You must’ve fallen behind with the business.”
“Work can wait. You’re my priority.”
She looks at me with an expression I’ve seen on her face before. It was a long time ago, a time before the ugliness of broken promises and vengeance came between us. It was the night I sneaked into her room and slid my signet ring onto her thumb. We sat on her bed, and she had her face tilted, looking up at me exactly like she’s doing now. I never thought I’d see that light in her eyes when she looked at me again. To be honest, at the time, I didn’t pay particular attention to the way her eyes softened when her gaze played over my face, but the moment is like déjà vu, bringing the recollection back with a rush.