Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Honor is Bennett’s daughter.
And Bennett is a monster.
40
Bennett
When Astaire returns, she places my bag on a spare chair and delivers my phone and charger. She says not a word. The quiet scuffs of her sneakers against the tile floor. The zip of her purse. The heavy exhalations coming from her direction.
Something’s off.
“Astaire,” I say.
“Mm hm?”
“Everything all right?”
Her arms fold—a defensive stance. “Of course.”
“They say it’s just some inflammation. Another round of steroids and I should be good to go. They might try me on a different antirejection regimen.” I try to soothe her worries, but she nods too quickly, like she isn’t even listening.
“That’s good.” She chews the inside of her lip.
“I should be home by Friday for sure. Then I can get everything ready for Honor’s arrival. You said we should get her balloons, right? And a teddy bear?”
“I’ll handle everything.”
The clock by the TV reads 11:38 PM. It’s late. She’s exhausted. These past few hours have been just as draining for her as they’ve been for me, I imagine.
“I know this is a lot for you.” I take her hand and pull her closer.
When she finally looks me in the eyes, I’m met with something I’ve never seen in hers before—fear.
Maybe when she sees me, she thinks of losing her mom. Losing Trevor. Maybe this is becoming too real for her, too fast, and she’s finally starting to think this through.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “Now go home, get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
I wave her on. “Yes. Don’t worry about me.”
I settle back in my bed, wide awake and staring at the blank TV screen on the other side of the room. From the corner of my eye, I catch her looking back at me before she goes. She’s all of ten feet away, but there might as well be an ocean between us.
She’s pulling away.
And I can’t fault her for it.
41
Astaire
“Astaire, we need to talk.”
I’m arranging flowers in a crystal vase on his island Friday night when he says the words I’ve been wanting to say since two nights ago. A pink “welcome home” balloon floats between us, weighted with a bag of sand wrapped in matching cellophane. A smiling gray teddy bear with a monogrammed platinum locket around its neck completes the homecoming display.
We’re ready for her tomorrow.
“Okay.” I give him my full attention, steadying my quaking hands at my hips. “What’s up?”
He studies me. “You tell me. You’ve been acting strange ever since the hospital.”
All the words rush to the forefront at the same time, none of them finding their way out. Dr. Rathburn stressed the importance of keeping him calm and relaxed—I worry this could incite him.
“Is Honor … your daughter?” I blurt the strangest, cruelest question I never dreamed I’d be asking this man.
“What?” He sucks in a breath. “Astaire … why would you … what makes you …”
I’m not sure if he’s flabbergasted or trying to buy time as he comes up with an explanation.
“I ran into Beth Wednesday,” I say. “She told me everything.”
His lips twist into an amused smile and relief paints his chiseled face. “Oh, God. Okay. Yeah. That explains it.”
I fold my arms.
“What did she tell you exactly?” he asks.
“That Honor is your daughter and that’s why Larissa left her to you,” I say. “And I have to say, Bennett, the resemblance is uncanny when I think about it. She’s your spitting image.”
His amused smirk fades and he braces his hands against the counter. “Beth’s half-correct. Honor is a Schoenbach. But she isn’t mine … she’s Errol’s.”
“Convenient.”
His eyes flash, holding mine. “On my life, Astaire. On my fucking life. On the heart that beats in my chest. I am not her biological father.”
He comes around the island, peels my trembling hands from my shaking body, and holds them in his.
“Look at me.” He speaks through clenched teeth, though his words are calm.
The instant my gaze meets his, the energy between us ignites, though with what, I can’t be certain. I just know I could slice through it, it’s so thick.
I want to believe him, I do.
But words are only that.
Words.
“I saw the text message transcripts.” I swallow the knot in my throat. “When I was grabbing your phone in your study … I saw them. They were on top of your desk.”
“My god … those messages weren’t between myself and Larissa if that’s what you’re getting at.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Jesus Christ. Do you honestly believe I’d be capable of something so vicious? So vile?”
I don’t answer because … I don’t know.
At the end of the day, this is all so new and we might as well be a notch above strangers.
How well can a person ever know someone else anyway?
“You know me better than that,” he says. “Honestly, you know me better than anyone at this point. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else. I’ve spent more time with you these past six weeks than I’ve spent with any one woman in the past six years.”