Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
He presses a kiss into my hair. And though he doesn’t say anything—
You’re not alone now, are you?
“I’m also a little angry with myself for ever getting into this position, because why did I believe her in the first place? She lies. I know she lies. And about the stupidest things. Or anything that might make her look bad. Is she running late? It’s not her fault, it was traffic, she’ll say. And everyone lies sometimes, but she does it all the time. So why did I believe her about the fucking taxes?”
“Because she had a statement. And she had a good story.”
“But she always has a story. Do you know that she tells people that she’s living with me because I need the help, financially? Because that makes her look good. I’d bet anything she tells people that I’m not at home over the holidays because she thought I was working too hard and so she suggested a getaway for me…and then she sent me on her dime. I’d bet anything. Argh!”
I cover my face with my hands, breathing heavily, while Reed holds me tight.
You’re not alone now, are you?
I draw in a deep breath before continuing more calmly. “But you know what’s weird? As much as it hurts to know how she lied and took advantage of me, it’s also a relief? I felt lighter the other day, after we came back from getting the tree, and I didn’t know why. But I figured it out. It’s because she stepped over a line. Way over. Just like Neil’s dad stepped way over a line.”
“And now you don’t have to feel so bad now when you tell her to get the fuck out of your life.”
“Yes! Because there was always so much guilt. I was this terrible, terrible person for even thinking of wanting them to leave. But now…she did this horrible, inexcusable thing. And I’m glad!” I laugh. “I’m so glad! Because now I can tell her she has two months to find a new place, and there’s nothing she can say in her defense! There’s no way to gaslight me on this. So I’m just…fuck, yes! Am I a terrible person?”
“No,” Reed says. “I think you’re just about perfect.”
“Even when I’m singing?”
“Especially when you’re singing. In fact, I think we need the next verse of that song right now.” He stands up out of the chair with me wrapped around him. “Are we on the fifth fuck of Christmas? Five golden rings is usually the part where it becomes a power ballad.”
“So… On the fifth fuck of Christmas, my enemy gave to me…HOPEFULLY NOT HERPES!” I belt the line out at the top of my lungs, and Reed has to stop, face buried in my shoulder as he laughs.
Finally he shakes his head. “You’ve got to have a number in the lyric.”
“Okay, okay— FIVE PUSSY LICKINGS!”
“That, I can do,” he says, and lowers me to the bed. “I adore your pussy. I adore you, too.”
I catch my breath, staring up at him. How does he keep doing this to me? But I can’t make a joke. Not now. Not when he begins kissing me. Not when he devours my pussy like a man starving. Not when he slides into me from behind, and goes slow, so slow, building my orgasm into a soul-shattering roll of thunder. Not when the fucking is over and he holds me so tight.
You’re not alone now, are you?
I’m not.
But what will I be when this holiday is over?
Reed
Reed
“I think they’re both done.”
I glance over to where Abbie has two canvases propped on the armchairs. It’s New Year’s Eve—our last night here—and in the past days, when we haven’t been hiking or lazing or reading, she’s been busy painting, putting in as many hours as I have been writing.
But not adding to a thrift store canvas. Instead she took two of the canvases she’d brought and completely painted over them. So both of these paintings are all hers.
She’s quiet as I look. I don’t need her to tell me what they are. One for her sister. One for her mom. Though they aren’t the subjects. They aren’t portraits. Instead one is red and raw, skin that’s been constantly picked at. The other a room that almost echoes with a sense of emptiness.
“Do you intend to give these to them?”
“Probably not.” She smiles a little, as if imagining their reactions. “It’s just…therapy.”
I kiss her for that. She laughs against my mouth before turning to regard the paintings again, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. “Should we leave them for Harris? Next to your books?”
“As a thank you for letting us stay?”
She wrinkles her nose. “He might not appreciate the bloody one.”
“I would. If you don’t want them, I’ll buy them.” And have another part of her with me. It’s a constant ache, not knowing whether a few paintings will be all that I have of her after today. “I’ve already started a collection.”