Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“Matt hates any sort of confrontation,” I admitted, looking out the window because I didn’t want to look at Austin.
I felt weak, like I wasn’t in control. Like I’d fail at any moment, which was insane, because it was just a semi-casual dinner and I wasn’t hosting. Unlike with my last couple of formal dinners, this one posed zero risk. So we didn’t get along—so what? My son was grown, and his dad and I didn’t need to be best pals. We could be civil when we had to see each other, and that was that.
But my stomach was churning and a cold sweat had beaded on my skin. This was exactly how I felt when I’d gone to gatherings with Matt in the past. If things didn’t go perfectly, I’d get the fallout. His words could be so cutting, so terrible, that I’d be reduced to tears and a lack of self-worth. The memories were suddenly so fresh that I was choking on them.
“He can make a night utterly miserable,” I said, struggling to get my bearings.
Keep your head above the bullshit, Aurora had told me before we walked out the door. I was suddenly so glad she’d come to Los Angeles with us.
“I’m here.” Austin reached over to put his fingers on my chin and pull my face his way. His eyes were so gorgeous and blue, so open and raw. “I’m here for you. Always. Don’t forget that. The past is a hard terrain to walk through, but we’ll do it together. I guarantee he will not make your night miserable. I will not let that happen, okay? Trust me.”
I let my head fall against the headrest and gave him a thankful smile. Because I was with this man, not the one lurking inside, and my life was so much more beautiful than I’d thought possible. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He let go of my hand and opened his door. I did the same, waiting for him to come grab the chocolate-covered strawberries from my lap and help haul me out. He laced my fingers with his again as we walked toward the front stoop. “I thought you said he had a new, big, fancy house.”
I took in the surroundings, the stale neighborhood with no real personality, the yard with not one leaf out of place, and the moderately sized dwelling that looked like a toy compared to Ivy House. The land was mostly barren of natural trees; instead the streets had planted saplings affixed to posts with rubber ties to ensure they grew straight and uniform. The bushes were all…too perfect for my tastes. It was as though the builders had come through, purposely stripped away all that was natural and wild, and replaced it with uninspired architecture and unoriginal plant life, aiming for an all-American vibe and landing instead on “good enough.”
I glanced up on impulse. I knew gargoyles were in the sky, circling until the coast was clear and they could come down and blend in.
“This is his version of a big, fancy house. Once it might’ve been mine,” I said as I pushed the doorbell. “Things have certainly changed. I wouldn’t go back to living in a neighborhood like this for all the peace in the world.”
“That’s good to know,” Austin murmured as heels clicked against hardwood behind the door.
“He would never answer doors,” I mumbled. “I always had to do it. Not Jimmy, even. Me, as the woman of the house. If I wasn’t home and he was, the door didn’t get answered. Looks like Camila is running with that baton.”
“I mean no offense, but that didn’t strike you as odd?”
“It really should have, right?” I huffed as the lock clicked over. “He’d said it was how things were done in an affluent household. At the time, I wanted to please him and also…fit the image of a wealthy woman. You saw my parents’ house. It felt like a big step up in life.”
“And now look, you’re beyond wealthy on your own terms. You can open doors without even getting up, but if you do, you’ll get chewed out by your old-as-dirt, somewhat senile, very grumpy gargoyle butler.”
I spat out a laugh as the door swung open to the woman I’d seen on social media with her new, gleaming engagement ring. Her pretty face was fresh, and her eyes sparkled with genuine happiness. She wore a gray dress, dusting just above her knees, with three-quarter-length sleeves and a cinched-in belt at her waist. It would’ve been plain if not for the interesting neckline, cut a little off center and connecting with a shiny black button on the right. The buttons continued down past her waist, adding a little flair. As I’d expected, a row of pearls adorned her neck.
“Jacinta, it’s so nice to meet you,” she said, her smile stretching wide. She reached out a hand. “I’m Camila.”