Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
"No offense, but you need a shower.”
I try not to bristle at her comment. She is a very nice woman, and I didn't mind working with her when I was working for Sebastian.
“Perhaps I do.” I shrug and take another bite of the apple.
She sets her stack of sheets on the counter, and I eye them curiously. Perfectly folded fitted sheets was never something I mastered, and seeing her even stack makes the perfectionist in me flinch. Leaning against the counter she stares at me, and I take in her khaki pants and pressed polo. She has her gray streaked hair pulled back into a tight bun.
She looks put together, and the sheer contrast of us makes me feel even more self-conscious.
"Look. I have no idea what is going on between you and Mr. Arturo, but I can see you both care for one another." She swallows hard enough I can hear it, and the vulnerable look in her eyes makes sense when she speaks again. "My husband died a few years ago. Cancer. It was the hardest time of my life, and Sebastian, even before his grandfather's death, made me his responsibility. He ensured I had anything and everything I needed. I couldn’t work because there was no one to care for my husband, but the hospital didn’t care; the debt collectors still called. The bills stacked up, and I knew soon I’d lose our house.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea you lost your husband…” I trail off, unsure what the proper response would be.
“I’m not telling you any of this because I want your sympathy. I’m telling you this because Sebastian understood the heartache and loss I was going to endure, and he knew losing my husband was bad enough. Losing the house and my job would kill me. So he ensured I’d have a job when I returned to work, and he covered all the funeral expenses. He didn’t have to do those things, but he chose to. He wanted to. When I told him I had no idea how I’d ever repay him, he said: “You being here is all the repayment I need.”
She doesn’t need to say it. I know Sebastian isn’t a bad guy, but he’s not as innocent as he portrays himself to be, either.
“I just wanted to share that with you, because no matter how well he plays the monster, that’s not who he is.”
I nod, the movement jerky. “Good lives inside Sebastian; I know that. But sometimes good isn’t enough.”
God, I hope he didn’t send her down here to tell me this in the hope I will forgive him or something stupid like that.
“He cares about you, and that’s worth mentioning since he doesn’t care about much of anything or anyone.” She smiles softly and snatches the stack of perfectly fitted sheets off the counter. “Take a shower, child, and put on a fresh pair of clothes.”
Rude. I peer down at myself and cringe. Okay, maybe I do need a shower and a clean pair of clothes, but there's no reason to point it out.
Bewildered, I shake my head and play back everything she said to me.
Does she really think I don’t see Sebastian as a good guy? He "took care" of me when my father sold me to his grandfather like a pet, didn't he? Still, some of the choices he's made through it all wouldn't exactly qualify him for sainthood. Although…we all make mistakes, right? We all have to do things that maybe we aren’t proud of in the name of survival.
Am I making excuses for him, or am I simply seeing the truth of the matter? No matter which way it goes, there is no making the thunderclouds hanging above our heads, threatening to implode on us, disappear.
I place the apple on the counter and get distracted when I hear what sounds like a scuffle at the door. Shoving off the stool, I walk towards the grand entrance, but whoever is here is already on their way towards me. I momentarily freeze. The world spins around me, and I’m taken back in time. I’m that young girl, hiding in the back of her closet behind the frilly dresses, pajamas, and stuffed animals. Hiding for the sound of boots on the wood floor.
My heart races, and a sheen of sweat forms against my palms. Yanov is dead, but the memory of his presence sure isn’t. My fears slowly dissipate when Bel comes scurrying around the corner.
She tugs the sleeves of her hoodie down over her knuckles, and when her gaze meets mine, she gives a giant grin. "There you are!"
My lungs burn like I’ve been holding my breath for hours. I try to shake off the anxiety coursing through my veins and remind myself that this is Bel. My friend.