Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“We like it to be ready for spontaneous trips.” He takes a large bite of his pasta and chews as he stares directly into my eyes. Swallowing, he continues, “If there is something you need, let me know. I’ll have it delivered to us.”
“How long are we staying here?” I ask. “Now that the punishment is over, as you said, I assumed we’d be going home soon.”
He shakes his head as he takes another mouthful. When he’s finished chewing, he says, “I sold the house.”
I freeze mid-chew, not sure if I had heard him correctly. “What? You sold our house? Why?”
“It didn’t feel like a home. It held…memories. Memories that I figured you and I both wanted to forget. And I—”
“You just sold our house without even mentioning it to me?” I interrupt. “What about all our belongings?”
“It’s all been placed in storage.” He looks up at me and smiles. “Don’t worry. We’ll get a new house. One that feels like a home to you, and to me. We need a fresh start.”
“You loved that house,” I point out, shocked by his impulsive act. He’s never been one to just make such a huge decision without months of research and planning.
He shrugs. “I think a new house will be good. As for the belongings… It’s all materialistic stuff, right? We can just buy new.” He looks at me. “You like shopping, right?”
“You know I don’t.”
He stops chewing and then nods. “That’s right. But maybe if we do it together, it won’t be so bad.” He returns to eating his pasta. “Anyway, we’ll stay here at the manor until we find a new place. But I was thinking I’d call the agent and have us fly into Seattle tomorrow to meet with her. Maybe we could have her show us some houses. Start the process.”
“Okay…” This all seems so unlike Apollo, but I will not question a good thing. I always hated that house. Apollo wanted it. Not me. “What kind of house do you want? Do you have a neighborhood in mind?”
He shrugs again. “What do you want?”
He’s never asked me that question before. I had always just assumed I should be grateful that I had a roof over my head and was no longer living in a shack with no power on the Eastside of Heathens Hollow.
“The truth?” I ask as I place down my fork.
His brow rises at my question. “Of course. Why would you ask that? I always want the truth from you. Always.”
I take a deep breath and decide to confess something I told no one. “When my sister and I were old enough to explore the island and beyond without being questioned, we took the ferry from the island to Seattle. Well…actually, we snuck onto the ferry since we didn’t have any money. We had been so excited because it was our first trip to the city. We lucked out when we got there because the busses ran that day for free, so we didn’t even have to pay for that.” I pause and take a sip of water, pausing to see if Apollo tries to stop me or rush along my story. But he only stares at me, giving me his full attention. I decide to continue on. “We didn’t know our way around the city or where anything was but decided to get on the bus and see where it took us. We ended up getting off in the Queen Anne district, and I instantly fell in love with the houses. The old craftsmen homes were everywhere, and I loved the neighborhood with all the landscaped and perfectly groomed yards. But there was this one house in particular that stood out to me. It had beveled windows with a large stainless glass heart hanging in the center. Plants lined up along the sill and you could see into the dining room from the street where we stood. There was a simple four-person table with a chandelier hanging above. Not an overly fancy one, but a fixture with clean lines and casting warm light below. I had imagined myself sitting in that house, at that table, and fantasized what it would be like. I promised myself that I would someday live in a craftsmen house in the Queen Anne district.” I take another drink of water. “I was a big dreamer as a kid.”
“Then the Queen Anne district will be our first stop,” Apollo says simply. His smile is so warm that I’m tempted to reach out and hold his hand. For some odd reason, I long for the connection.
“When I suggested it before, you said the area is for upper middle-class people. It was beneath us.”
Apollo grimaces, swallows hard, and stiffens his spine. “You must have caught me on a bad day. I apologize.” He places his fork down on his plate, dabs his mouth with his napkin, and adds, “I’d like to explore the district with you. I like the idea of a craftsmen as well.”