Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
* * *
He blinks, confusion stealing over his face. Oh … he is good. Wide eyes, an innocent face. He has the whole act down fucking pat. I continue on, my words spilling out uncontrollably. “I know everything. How you two came to Sammy’s specifically for me. How you knew everything about me before you ever stepped inside. How you’re planning on killing me!” I finally run out of words, gasping for breath, tears starting their embarrassing streak down my face.
* * *
His face pales, and I’d look to Drew, but I can’t pull my eyes from his. “Candace … that isn’t … you think we’re going to kill you?”
* * *
“Don’t give me that innocent face,” I hiss. “Did you guys think I was stupid? Did my low GPA put a giant ‘Here is a Dumbass’ sign above my head?”
* * *
“So … you’re not suicidal?” Nathan seems stuck on this topic, ignoring my questions, color beginning to return to his face, an improvement that irritates me. He shouldn’t be comfortable; he should be at least half as confused as I am.
* * *
“No, I’m not suicidal!” I snap. Part of me is pissed that they place enough self-importance on their own impact to think it would drive me to take my own life.
* * *
Drew pulls out a stool and sits, looking up at me. “The questions you were asking Nathan … about your father’s care … it was because you thought we were going to kill you?”
* * *
I raise my chin defiantly and cross my arms, saying nothing.
* * *
He shakes his head, bewildered. “Why?”
* * *
I don’t want to answer his questions. I want, for once in this fucking life as Candace Dumont, to get some answers. “Why don’t you start by telling me the truth?” I look back at Nathan, who steps forward, his arms crossing over his chest, his unease gone, my dominating husband back in control.
* * *
“I don’t owe you full disclosure. There are things you don’t need to know.”
* * *
“Bullshit!” I yell the word, startling him, and he shoots me a stern look, anger stealing over his face.
* * *
“No one is planning on harming you, I can promise you that. We aren’t murderers. What even gave you that thought?”
* * *
I don’t answer, biting my lower lip and considering my options. Is this the moment? The time when I show my cards? There is a risk in me showing all of my cards. It would give them an opportunity to craft lies around the evidence. It's too early for that gamble, especially when I can’t figure out his involvement in this mindfuck of my life. I’m at the precipice between a good decision or disaster. I glance, from Nathan to Drew, and pick the weaker of the two opponents. I move closer to him, taking the adjacent bar stool and sitting down next to him. “I'm about to walk out that door and say ‘fuck you’ to any agreement I've made. I need you to tell me right now what is going on and why I am here.”
* * *
He glances at Nathan, and I watch his eyes, watch unspoken words travel, and when he looks back at me, some decision has been made. “You asked me once why I am here.” He moves his stool a bit closer, his knee brushing with mine. “You have your father. I have my sister.”
* * *
I inhale. Not to be unsympathetic, but this sounds like a long story. I glance at Nathan, and the look on his face, the tight pinch of his features as he leans against the closest wall … it kills any comments. My father … his sister. I look back at Drew. “Is she sick?”
* * *
He shakes his head. “No one knows. We don’t know where Cecile is. She disappeared, four years ago. From this house right here.”
* * *
Cecile. The mysterious fiancée. Drew’s sister? It’s too much, my brain short circuiting, and I try to catch up on everything in the course of a breath. I shift slightly, not looking at Nathan, and lower my voice. “Did Nathan do something to her?”
* * *
There is a sigh of exasperation from Nathan’s corner of the room.
* * *
Drew glances at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches in what is almost a grin. “Trust me, if I thought he had something to do with her disappearance, I would have strangled the truth out of him by now. No, Nathan wants to find Cecile as badly as I do.”
* * *
I risk a look at Nathan, and catch the tight nod. I exhale, my first clear breath in a week.
* * *
Drew continues. “You’re here for two reasons. The first is our ridiculous hope—if Cecile sees Nathan moving on—that she might come back.”