Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
But our life together is very normal most of the time. Sometimes, we joke around about Rowan belonging to me because I managed to finish the job before the deadline. It’s a good way for me to get out of cleaning the kitchen as long as I later also show him he’s mine in bed.
When we’re not traveling, we live together in my apartment in Brooklyn, and while we can’t get a cat because of our lifestyle, Rowan has befriended the neighbor’s Bengal, so every now and then we get to take care of him. We even took him to a park once, which was all fine and dandy until his leash got tangled in a bush, and I ended up having to crawl between the branches to get him out. Since then, we prefer taking care of the spotty furball at home.
Rowan’s presence showed me a new side of my city, since he wanted to see all the landmarks and museums. It’s so much more satisfying to explore together than it ever was on my own. Every time we visit a new restaurant or take a day trip, our bond grows, and we get to know each other better. But Rowan is no city rat, so we often visit nature spots and forests, whether it’s for a hike or to practice tracking.
Christmas time is also our anniversary, and we decided to spend most of December at the cabin where we made so many memories last year. I admit, some of them not ideal, but Rowan is more than happy about being back, so who am I to complain? Especially when it means we’ll be able to visit the Christmas market we missed out on last year, when we got snowed in. We even accidentally bumped into Mrs. Treville the day before, and will get to spend Christmas Eve with the person who brought us together. Talk about happy coincidences...
Gentle snowfall gives the scene in front of us a pinch of magical charm as we walk along stands with local arts and crafts. Mulled wine tastes best in this kind of setting, and as we admire all the decorations, it’s impossible to miss that they’re even more opulent than last year. Apparently, the current mayor is convinced this might bring in more visitors during the holiday period, and judging by the amount of people crowding the main square, her plan might be working.
As we stop to listen to a choir singing Christmas carols, I stroke Rowan’s hand between our bodies, anonymous in the crowd of people eager to join the singing. His knee has been giving him grief today, but he’s using the cane I got him last Christmas. It’s black, not too flashy, since I didn’t want to risk it getting stolen, but has a long knife hidden inside. Perfect for when desperate measures are required. I hope he never has to use it, but he absolutely loves it, so I’m glad I hit the gift-giving jackpot.
“Look, they make taxidermy lamps!” Rowan smiles, pointing out a booth where a man has several unique pieces on offer, including a large deer head with light bulbs built into its antlers.
“Is that of interest?” I ask as we drift away from the singers and enter yet another alley with colorful lights hung between the roofs of small wooden huts, which host all the shops.
“Yeah, I like it. I was actually considering getting into taxidermy at one point.”
Ha. Yet another thing I didn’t know about him. I immediately give him a gentle nudge toward the booth. “We could get one. The living room is a bit empty right now. We have space for a statement lamp.”
I’ve always kept my apartment elegant and tidy, but I don’t mind him bringing in a bit of chaos. After all, it’s our place now, and I want him to infuse it with his personality.
“You sure? ‘Cause I like the really big one!”
How can I say no to him when his eyes light up as if he was stabbing Ted’s head all over again?
“Absolutely. We both love nature, why not bring some of it home?” I say, and once again his smile disarms me. Seeing it would be enough of a gift this Christmas, but he’s hiding the contents of his luggage from me, so I have no doubt he got me something.
“Rowan?” A female voice speaks up behind us, and we turn around to face Rowan’s old therapist. I spied on her for a bit last year and recognize her in the small woman with long blonde hair and a pleasant smile.
Rowan is a bit stiff when he nods. “Mrs. Woken. Nice to see you.”
She offers us a smile before focusing on Rowan. “I hope you’re faring well.”
“He is,” I say and rub his shoulder, to make sure she understands he’s well taken care of. She never helped Rowan with her talk of forgiveness, but I did.