Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to keep thanking me. It’s a business deal. I’m getting a free property out of this. We’re both benefiting.”
Her eyes steady on me, she nodded and rearranged the blanket on her shoulders. “I know. I just wanted you to know the details, too.”
I already knew the details surrounding her situation, but I didn’t think it would be wise to let her know that.
“Why do you want it then? What are you planning on doing with it once our deal runs its course?”
I didn’t know how to answer that question, so I took the easy out.
“I rather not share.”
“Oh. Okay.”
When I didn’t comment further, she took a deep breath and looked toward the corner where she had appeared from. After giving Central Park another quick look, she sighed. “You probably want to be alone, so I’ll just go back to my room. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day of painting anyway. Good night, Jack.”
I watched her in silence up until she turned her back to me and took a few steps away. Sighing, I straightened up from the wall and took her spot at the rail. Turns out I didn’t like putting that hurt look on her face. Raising my voice, I asked, “You think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll rest a bit.”
I’d thought as much. I didn’t think I was gonna get any sleep either. How are you handling their death?” The question rolled off my tongue before I even thought about what I was going to say to keep her out on the terrace for longer. So much for not wanting to talk to her.
The amount of time it took for her to reappear at my side was unmistakably shorter than the time it had taken her to walk away.
“Can I be honest?” she asked into the night as I studied her profile.
“Usually, I prefer people lying to me, but if you insist…”
That earned me a side-eye look.
“I’m not sure exactly how I feel,” she responded finally. I thought I heard a small smile in her voice when she started to speak, but I didn’t know her enough to be sure. “Obviously, I’m sad about it. That’s not what I mean, but it just doesn’t feel real. We didn’t talk every day, or even every week, after I turned eighteen, I moved out of their house and after that barely even saw Angela. That’s how she wanted it anyway. But, I talked to my uncle about once every two weeks or so, and sometimes he even had enough time to have lunch with me. He always seemed to tolerate having me around a bit more. Since you worked with them before, you probably already know this story, but they took me in when I was nine. My dad had just passed away. Cancer. And even though Gary and my dad were only half-siblings and they hadn’t been in contact for more than fifteen years, Gary agreed to become my guardian.”
“What about your mom?”
“I don’t remember her. She left us when I was two. I believe they looked for her, but from what my uncle told me she had disappeared. Maybe changed her name, who knows. So they took me in. I can’t say they were always nice to me, I remember too many nights I’d cried myself to sleep, but at least I didn’t go into the system. I didn’t have anyone, not really.”
“Your cousins?”
“Bryan and Jodi. Ah. I think they just took their cues from Angela and stayed clear. They’re just a few years older than me, yet they barely talked to me. I was the very unwanted and bothersome niece.”
I was watching the park when she started her story, but my eyes went back to her when I felt her gaze on me.
“That was probably a little more personal information than you were looking for.”
“It’s okay,” I replied simply, not giving her anything else. “I think for the marriage to look believable to everyone around us, we need to know personal details like these.”
“Okay then. To give a more definite answer to your question: I’m doing better—not great, but better. There are days I wake up and completely forget it happened because they haven’t really been super involved in my life for a long time, but I think it’s okay to admit that I have days where I miss hearing my uncle’s voice.” I heard a small chuckle and genuine happiness in her next words. “He used to read me bedtime stories for a few years in the beginning, once or twice a week. If you know him at all, you also know how unlike him that is, but he worked pretty hard and it was the only time I’d get to see him. He was always a little gruff about it and tried to read super quick as if he was racing against time, but then he’d get into the story and read longer than he had promised. I used to really look forward to that when I was little. ‘I only have ten minutes for you tonight, Rose.’ He’d always start with that.” She paused, but before I could even comment, she turned the tables back onto me. “What about your parents? Are they alive?”