Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I hear him take a few steps closer, “What I do isn’t your business… Gwen. Remember that.”
Wow. Seriously? He’s going to be that rude? “I was just making an observation.”
“Don’t, you won’t like what you observe,” he states coldly and stalks out of the room. The entire time I didn’t look at him and felt no desire to either, until his parting comment. Now I can’t take my eyes off his back as he walks away.
What the hell did he mean by that? What won’t I like? Not that I’m trying to like anything or looking for something to like.
I wake up in the morning earlier than usual. Stupid morning sickness should have stopped by now. It hasn’t. I race to the bathroom and fall to my knees in front of the toilet. Yuck. Luckily the sickness subsides after the first emptying of my stomach, unlike the past few months where it has lingered deep in my tum, unrelenting for hours. Sometimes making me feel so ill I’ve cried.
Once that’s over with I have a long shower. It’s needed. I’m ashamed of myself for going for so long without one especially when there’s a bathroom right next to my room and it has a gorgeous walk in shower and a huge tub. They’re old styled but they work brilliantly.
When I finally make it downstairs I have to breathe deeply when I smell bacon. It’s odd because yesterday I wanted bacon and now the thought of it makes my stomach roll. I tentatively make my way into the dining area, Nathan is sat much like he was yesterday morning, this time he holds a different book and no glasses are perched on his nose. His hair is styled differently too, or maybe he just hasn’t combed it yet.
He looks far more casual than yesterday in a blue shirt and dark jeans, different from yesterday morning. This makes me wonder why he was wearing a suit last night, I don’t remember him going anywhere to make him feel the need to change into something so seemingly formal.
“You’re staring at me,” he comments as I lower myself into my seat.
“Sorry,” I mumble and look down at my plate, I can hear Jeanine in the background singing to herself. Although I’m not entirely sure which direction her voice is coming from. “I was wondering…”
“Jeanine!” His hand smacks the table making me jump and gasp. “Enough!”
I’m shocked when I hear her laugh loudly before falling silent. He rubs his eyes with his gloved hands and places the book down on the placemat across from me.
“You were wondering…” he prompts me to finish my earlier sentence.
“Oh, umm… I can’t remember now.”
He gives me a pointed look, I have to fight against my need to shy away from his dark gaze, “Don’t play with me. Spit it out.”
Snort. I haven’t felt the need to laugh in a really long time but this almost pushes me over.
He thinks on it for a moment before rolling his eyes when he figures out the reason for my unattractive snort, “Honestly, how old are you?”
“Twenty one.”
“It was a rhetorical question aimed at your level of maturity.”
I keep my eyes down and pick at the bacon on my plate.
He sighs loudly, “Yesterday you wanted bacon and now you have it you aren’t happy. Typical.”
“No,” I shake my head. “It’s great. Thank you.” I slowly move a piece toward my mouth, my eyes flickering to him. “Smoked, I love smoked bacon.” My stomach makes a loud churning noise, I stand slowly. “Excuse me.” With my hand over my mouth I rush from the room and back upstairs. Hurl. Gross.
Jeanine joins me a few minutes later with a cup of ginger flavoured tea and a ginger biscuit. Why do all older people think ginger is the cure for all sickness? It doesn’t work. Well, it doesn’t for me. I can’t stand ginger.
I head back to my room seeking solitude.
There’s a light tapping at the door after twenty minutes of my being in here, I don’t respond, I sit on the window seat and stare solemnly through the glass. The trees look so thick and vibrant, when you try to look through the leaves, but if you’re walking through them they don’t look nearly so thick. They’re actually quite spaced out. It’s all of the bushes and twigs that make the forest difficult to walk through. I bet if you flew above this particular patch of trees and looked down, it would look like a blanket of leaves covering the cliff.
The tapping turns to knocking. I still don’t respond.
The door opens anyway. Great.
I don’t turn to look at whoever it is but I feel them enter and almost like I can sense his domineering presence I know who it is as soon as he steps through the door.