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 hear anything about the analyst job at the investment bank?” I asked.
She shook her head as she pulled out another dish from the oven and set it on the side. “Nope. They won’t be making a decision for weeks yet. Said they’ll let me know.”
“And Bethany’s okay, because you would have told me if she wasn’t.”
“Yes, she’s happy as usual, although Bear Bear is in need of a few stitches under his arm. I have to do it before I go.”
Hearing her talking about leaving was like a dull punch to my gut. I hated the idea that she was going to be away for an entire month.
“I’m going to miss you,” I said, circling my hands around her waist as she stood at the kitchen side. “How will I cope?” This time she leaned against me, letting her body relax against mine. “I shouldn’t be so selfish. You’ll be back in just a few weeks. And you’ll have a job by then and—”
She spun in my arms. “I don’t know if I’ll have a job. I don’t know if I’m going to be in London. And I’ve been thinking . . .” She trailed her fingers down the buttons of my shirt.
“Sounds ominous.” I was desperate to lift the heaviness that had settled in the air tonight.
“We haven’t talked about it and I don’t exactly know what you were thinking would happen with us after I left . . . but I think it might be better if we . . . went our separate ways.” She spoke to the collar of my shirt, refusing to meet my eyes. The veins in my neck pulsed like the ticking of a clock.
“What are you talking about?” My face went numb. I dropped my arms and stepped back.
“I think you need to spend some time with Penelope.” She exhaled as if she’d just unloaded a lead cloak from her shoulders.
“Has she been here again? What has she said this time? That you’re responsible for terrorist activity in Iran and her shitty school grades?” I’d told my solicitor that Penelope had been trying to intimidate Bethany’s nanny into leaving. She reassured me that it would count against her in any trial. But of course, no one wanted a trial.
“No, she hasn’t been back,” Autumn said, stepping toward me and cupping my face in her hands. “But I’ve been thinking about a few things.”
Bloody hell. Penelope had got inside her head. Anger revved in my chest like the engine of a racecar before its first lap. “You need to ignore what she said. She’s manipulative and refuses to take responsibility for anything. She needs to remind herself that she walked out on us three years ago. I didn’t even know you then.”
“I know,” Autumn said. “This isn’t about me. Well, not entirely about me.”
“So why are you talking about going our separate ways? Granted, you need to figure out a new job, but I’m here to support you in that. I know you’re young and I’m really trying to hold back because I don’t want to push you too hard too soon, but bloody hell, Autumn. I’d accepted you might not want to live with us, but walking away? Where’s this coming from?”
She dropped her hands and closed her eyes as if she were trying to blink away reality. “I think it’s for the best.”
The blood in my veins sped up and gained force. “This isn’t what’s best for me. So, what you mean is, this is what you want.” I fought against my instinct to leave her there and disappear into my workshop. I needed to stay and convince her she was wrong.
“I want what’s best. For you.”
“That’s you. I want you.” Perhaps I should have been clearer earlier, but I’d thought it was understood between us that what we had wasn’t just a passing affair or some kind of transitory romance. It was more than that. It was . . . like she’d been made for me.
“You’ve said how you thought you and Penelope and Bethany were a perfect family—just what you’d always wanted after the childhood you had. And then Penelope blindsided you. You were devastated.”
My family had been less than perfect. I’d accepted that there was no such thing. “Things happen, Autumn. I thought our marriage was something it clearly wasn’t. I’m trying to move on.”
“Penelope isn’t a bad person,” she said as if she hadn’t heard me. “And she’s desperate to try to make things right again.”
“She doesn’t have a time machine. So there’s no making things right.” It was almost as if people didn’t understand what had happened. My lawyer was the same: Penelope was sorry. Penelope wanted to be in Bethany’s life. Penelope wanted. She’d given up her right to want anything the day she left.