Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I don’t turn toward him, but I still catch his slight flinch. Even after all these years, it’s hard to breathe when I think about my mother, the woman who is supposed to love me the most … just letting me go. And it’s a little embarrassing too. I clear my throat. “So the second I got my high school diploma, I left Athens with my mom’s car because … fuck her. She owed me. Then I took out a gazillion loans to go to school. Had a half dozen different roommates. And slept out of my car as needed.”
“So you’re experienced at sleeping out of your car?” He gives me a quick sidelong glance.
“Sort of. Back then, it was for a few weeks in between apartments or roommates. Not months.”
“I’m sorry to hear you had it so rough.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t. I had friends in school. I kept my chin up. My mom was so many awful things, but she never abused me—physically—and neither did her shitty boyfriends who felt it was okay to knock her around. I got a college degree, even if it’s the most useless degree in the world. I followed my passion. I’ve always been a dreamer. Passion over practicality.”
“And now you’re cleaning houses.”
His bluntness pulls a tiny laugh from my chest. “Yes. Yes, I am. I don’t know.” I shrug. “I saw it going differently, but I’m too young to give up. I’m going to continue to look for my place in this world.”
Zach shakes his head. “You’re like a battery-operated toy that gets tipped on its side, but it’s still moving, even if it’s not going anywhere. Suzanne was like that.” When he glances at me, his grin falters. “Sorry. I’m sure you’re tired of me comparing you to her, but it’s in the best way possible.”
“No. It … it’s not that I mind being compared to her. It’s quite the compliment. It’s just weird now.”
“Because we’re married?”
I nod, pressing my lips together as we pull into the garage. “I mean, it’s not like we’re married in the traditional sense. I’m not sleeping with her husband.” Jesus … why does the filter between my brain and my mouth have such large holes?
Zach clears his throat, and I swear his cheeks turn a little red even if part of his face is covered with dark stubble. “Well … technically I’m your husband now. So you’re not sleeping with your husband. And just to get past this really uncomfortable unspoken … thing between us, it’s important to remember that she died. We lived. Tara died, and Suzanne lived. She moved on with her life. I’m moving on with my life too. I’m just doing it differently. Instead of finding love again, I’m doing a favor for a friend.”
We climb out of the car.
With a nervous laugh, I feel my own cheeks fill with heat as I step inside the house. “And what a favor it is,” I say through that nervous laugh. “I’m uh … going to bed now. Thank you for the camera bag and the ice cream. It’s been a great birthday.” I risk a final glance at Zach.
He smiles, just staring at me for a few more seconds before returning an easy nod. “Night, Emersyn.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I take the job with the wedding photographer, a second camera for a few local weddings and engagement photos. It’s a part-time, temporary job, a fill-in position while his full-time assistant recovers from surgery.
Over the next few weeks, I experience an unusual kind of grief. Maybe it’s that I just had a birthday, and twenty-four is a more hormonal age, but I doubt it. As crazy as it sounds, I’m a little lost. After feeling like a slave to my epilepsy diagnosis, my medical bills, and my student loan debt—oh, and getting married—I don’t know how to handle this newfound freedom. My doctor adjusted my seizure medication. I’m physically feeling better. Exercising every day. I’ve been saving lots of money. And I’m getting paid to take photos without having to quit my cleaning jobs. So why am I scared out of my mind?
“I let you skip out on Thanksgiving, but you’re not sitting home alone on Christmas,” Zach announces as he wraps presents on the living room floor. It’s the week before Christmas.
I dust the end table and the lamp. “Skip out on Thanksgiving? You were working that day.”
“But my family wanted you to have dinner with them.”
His family is great. They’ve not once questioned his charitableness toward me. I think they know it’s what Suzie would have wanted. Of course, they don’t know the full extent of his charity. They only know he’s been letting me stay here. “I’m not ready to attend holidays with them when you’re not going to be there. I’d end up having one too many eggnogs and let it slip that we’re married. Are you good with that?” I peer at him from behind the table lamp.