Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“You need to leave,” I said, as calmly as I could manage. There was no point in having this conversation. I needed to shut the door, get away from this woman, and organize my thoughts.
“If you weren’t on the scene, we’d all have a chance at being together,” she said. “You’re ruining Bethany’s chance of having her mother and father together. Of spending time with her mother, rather than the hired help.”
“I’m going to shut the door,” I said, my jaw clenched and my shoulder poised to ram closed the black door. I wasn’t the one who walked out on my family three years ago. She was trying to push the blame of what she’d done onto me. And I knew it wasn’t my fault.
“Do you really want to live your life as a homewrecker?” she asked. Her manner wasn’t menacing or threatening, but the implication was. She was telling me I was the problem. She was telling me I was ruining her life, Gabriel’s life, and Bethany’s life. Part of me knew it was manipulative, but was it possible for her words to be manipulative and true?
“I’m sorry,” she said, stepping back. “Like I said, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I know I’ve made mistakes and bad decisions. I just want my family back. I don’t want to miss any more of Bethany’s life.” Her voice faltered at the end of the sentence. She looked desperate. Like she was really remorseful.
It was hard not to feel sorry for her. Yes, she’d walked out three years ago and not been back before now. Yes, it was her choice. But now she was here, and she was trying to right her wrongs. She was trying not to compound her mistake. She was fighting for what was hers. How could I blame her?
“Penelope, this is a conversation you should be having with Gabriel.”
Her gaze dropped to her feet like she knew that wasn’t the answer. “That’s the theory,” she mumbled. “Like I said, he’s a good man, but he doesn’t forgive so easily.”
“He’s trying to protect Bethany.” And himself.
“Sometimes people don’t make the right decisions,” she said. “I didn’t when I walked away. But if Gabriel doesn’t let me make it right, won’t that be a bad decision too?”
Would he be more forgiving of Penelope in different circumstances? If he hadn’t watched his mother forgive his father over and over and over, only to be let down and betrayed every time, wouldn’t he think Penelope deserved forgiveness?
And if I wasn’t living here. If I wasn’t sleeping with him. What if?
“I think you should talk to him. Like you said, he’s a good man.”
“Are you a good woman?” she asked. She put her hand up to stop me answering. “I’m going, don’t worry. But ask yourself whether or not you can sleep at night, knowing you ruined Bethany’s chance of having a mother and Gabriel’s chance of having his wife back.” She turned and walked up the street. I watched her, fingering the neck of my sweater.
Had I taken her place? And if I walked away, would it leave a vacancy she would fill? Would my absence force Gabriel to finally, at long last, give someone a second chance?
Thirty-Three
Autumn
How didn’t I know until now how awesome libraries were? They were particularly awesome if you wanted to know everything there was to know about travelling in Europe.
I glanced around to find nothing had changed in the hours since I’d last looked up. There were still a couple of librarians behind the main desk, none of whom ever seemed to speak to each other. There was a man on the computer on the far side, behind the thriller hardbacks. And the desk in front of me was still covered in piles of travel books.
All I knew was that I was definitely starting in Paris. Nope. A flight to Amsterdam. That would be better. And then on to Copenhagen and Stockholm. The pictures of Stockholm looked so different from London. That would be good. I would need distance by the time I left.
“You going travelling?” A bearded guy with a weird accent asked as he approached my desk.
I nodded. “Can you tell?”
“Make sure you’ve got Oz on the itinerary.”
“Because I want to see the wizard?”
“Not that Oz.” He chuckled. “Australia.”
“Oh wow, no. I’m staying closer to home.” London did feel like home to me now. Maybe it was because Hollie was here. Maybe it was because I was so pleased to be out of Oregon. Maybe it was because of Gabriel. But I couldn’t think about him right now. “Just around Europe this summer,” I said. “I take it that’s where you’re from—Oz, I mean.”
“Absolutely. You can’t tell from the accent?” he asked. “But if you’ve not been down under, then make sure you put it on your list,” he said, pointing at the notebook I had open. “And don’t leave out the west coast. Shark Bay, mate. Best place on earth.”