Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
It’s not a bad cut. Just a bloody one. I press my thumb down onto the cut to stop the blood flowing and knock the tap on with my elbow.
Of course, it’s that exact moment when Zach appears at the door to the kitchen.
Leaving my hand under the running water, I turn my head to look over my shoulder. “Zach, I’m so sorry.”
“What happened? Did you burn yourself? Cut yourself?” His expression is gruff and irritated.
“It’s nothing.” I keep my finger under the tap only because I’m worried the bleeding hasn’t stopped and it will look worse than it really is. I don’t want to have to focus on my finger right now. I want to fix this with Zach. “I know I was snooping, and there’s no excuse. I know you wanted to keep whatever you’re working on confidential and I looked anyway. I don’t know how to say how sorry I am. I betrayed you and—”
He stalks over to me and takes my hand in his and examines the cut, but it really is nothing.
He frowns but inspects my finger. “I don’t think we’ll have to amputate.”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me, but I promise I’m trustworthy and I didn’t really see anything.” I try to remember what it was I actually did see. It wasn’t anything medical. I expected to see data charts and spreadsheets but…I frown and realize how near he is, how easy it would be to run my palm down his back.
He shuts off the tap and takes some kitchen roll, patting my finger dry. The blood has stopped.
“I’m so, so sorry. How can—”
He sighs, exasperated. “Get off the cross, Ellie. With this weather drawing in, we really do need the wood.” He leans in and pulls out a first aid kit from the kitchen drawer.
“What cross?” I say, just as realization dawns. Was he making a joke or accusing me of being dramatic?
“I shouldn’t have left it out if I didn’t want you to look.” He presses a plaster over my cut and pulls it tight over my skin. “I’m just protective.”
“I shouldn’t have looked. I’m not a child. I should have respected your privacy.”
He nods. “I guess we’re both at fault, then.” His tone isn’t nasty or venomous. He doesn’t sound like he thinks I’m too stupid to live or like he can’t believe he actually has to deal with someone as ridiculous as me. He’s just…resigned to what’s happened, or at least he’s accepted his part in it.
“I am sorry.”
“I know,” he replies. “And I’m sorry I got so angry.” He turns to leave. “I need to get on. I’ve got a deadline.”
I hold up my finger like some kind of crazed woman doing her best ET impression. “Thanks.”
He lets out a half laugh and leaves the room while I’m still trying to process what just happened.
Was that it? Surely he’s going to torture me further? Maybe he’ll shout at me later. Give me the silent treatment for the rest of my time here? Although, it doesn’t seem like it from the interaction we just had.
Or maybe I’ve been conditioned to think every misstep and mistake of mine is a huge deal, when in reality it’s just…not. I shouldered the blame for anything and everything that went wrong in Shane’s world. I used to tell myself it was my job as his manager to protect him from things not going his way. But our professional dynamic bled into our personal one, and I spent a lot of time apologizing and trying to make up for my apparent sins big and small—except nothing I did wrong was small. Cynthia always said she didn’t like the way Shane spoke to me, the way be blamed me for everything. I used to brush off her comments, because it didn’t matter to me if I had to apologize for something that wasn’t really my fault or if I accepted Shane’s fury at something that wasn’t a big deal. But maybe it should have. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Shane convince me—let myself be convinced—it was my job to assume responsibility for everything that didn’t go right in the world.
Maybe in this new version of my life, people make mistakes and are easily forgiven.
What an idea.
Nineteen
Zach
I glance up at the clock and realize I’m working in the dark. The computer says it’s seven thirty-five, but that can’t be right. I’ve not had lunch. I lean back in my chair and the gurgle in my stomach tells me that dinner is overdue.
I press save, then do it again, just in case. Before I shut down my laptop, I check the word count. I’ve added nearly four thousand words since three this afternoon. That’s more than twice what I would normally write in a day. Four thousand words of love story between Benjamin and Madeline. I’ve been so consumed by my characters that I haven’t come up for air. I click close and stand.