Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Scarlet, because I really need to start using her name in my own head here, stares at me. Based on the fact that she’s not smiling at me or welcoming me, I think she already knows what my answer is going to be.
“I have a life back home,” I say carefully, my voice not wavering. “I could technically just up and leave and disappear, but I also have a lot that I want to stay for. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer or admire what you’re doing because I really do. And I’m thankful you would even consider me. I’m honored, actually. I just…I just can’t uproot what I have right now. I hope that’s okay.” I find my hand inching closer to my fork, just in case it’s not okay and it’s the time for the ropes and the concrete bags to come out and the bad side of this granny to rear its not-so-pretty head.
I’m a little bit surprised when Scarlet nods and smiles at me. “That’s fine, dear. I just wanted to extend the invitation. I do understand. If you need any help arranging a flight, let me know. I’ll also make sure you have a way to reach me at any time if you change your mind.” She waves her hand over the table. “For now, let’s eat before the food gets cold. Cold pancakes are on the list of sinful things, right along with not enough pie filling in a cherry pie, the wrong kind of cherries, and the crust not being flaky enough. Hmm, that’s my cherry pie sin list. I guess I should have busted out the other list. That would have been more applicable. The life list.”
“Granny,” Atlas groans. “Let’s just eat.”
“I don’t know if you can really mess up a cherry pie,” Lennox protests. “I think they’re all really good in their own way.”
“You most certainly can,” his granny bites back. “In so many ways. It’s not my fault your pie standards are low.”
“Hey!” Lennox flings a glop of blueberries across the table.
Scarlet brings her fist down on the table. “No flinging food! Come on now. You’re not ten years old anymore.”
“You didn’t know me when I was ten,” Lennox shoots back petulantly.
“All the same, you’re not ten anymore. Food goes in your trap of a yap or stays on the plate.”
Atlas shakes his head. “She shouldn’t have to tell you this, you overgrown meatball man-child.”
“Ha! Man child. Says the guy who faked being a carpenter and homebuilder to get Victoria to like him.”
“Well, it worked out,” Victoria argues. “He’s paid his dues, and we’ve been over it. We’re good now.”
“I’m going to miss this a lot,” Alden chimes in. “Especially when I’m up in Canada cleaning fish.”
“And I’ll miss all this plus our conversations about writing,” Azalea adds, grinning at Victoria. “Not that we can’t have them online, but it’s good to talk about books in person. I don’t know anyone else who loves books as much as you do and also writes. You’ve been such an inspiration.”
“Me?” Victoria gasps. “Oh my goodness.” She’s clearly flustered and flattered, and it’s adorable.
The only person who hasn’t said anything is Orion. I’m well aware that he’s eating beside me, but it’s a mechanical movement. Fork to mouth, fork to plate, fork to pancake, cut the pancake, fork to mouth, then repeat. He’s going through the motions, but he’s very quiet, and it seems wooden and mechanical. I don’t know if he’s surprised, confused, or angry with me. Possibly all of them.
We did just kiss not too long ago—the kind of kiss that creates freaking natural disasters and world wonders and could inspire a whole series to be written about alternative universes where insanely good things exist, like an almost instant connection or at least off the charts, unheard of chemistry—and now I said I was leaving. All without talking to him about it.
Not exactly my finest move. Or moment.
Ugh, I should still eat these pancakes.
I go through the motions, too, eating and smiling and even laughing when it’s required. After breakfast, I help clean up, and then I make excuses about packing and booking a flight before taking off to basically hide in the treehouse, which is exactly as juvenile as it sounds.
I didn’t actually think I’d get away with it, and a knock at the door proves me right. “Come in,” I say with a sigh, knowing I have no other choice.
Orion swings the door open and ducks down through the entrance. Is it weird that my ovaries go a little squirrelly watching him bend in half to get in here? Also, he’s now sporting a man bun, so hold my nipples because things are about to get out of control internally.
“You’re leaving.” It’s not a question.
I nod and turn around, hugging myself as I walk to the windows to open the flaps and swing their little hook and eye things into place to hold them open. I pretend I can’t feel Orion’s stare scorching my back like the sun has been packed inside this tiny treehouse somehow.