Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I found happiness in cooking, a trait I inherited from my mother. I was Italian, it was what we did—found joy in it. I was a damn good cook too. In my childhood home, I always cooked for my father. It was something my mother always did for him and after her untimely death, I took on that role. We had a housekeeper, chef, and full staff, but I was used to playing the part of the woman of the house.
I cooked dinner every night, leaving Cruz a plate of food on the stove. I didn’t even realize I was doing it because I had done it for my father for so long, it seemed a natural thing to do, becoming a part of our routine. I’d wake up to find an empty plate in the sink. When the food was still on the stove, I knew he didn’t come home. Those were the longest days, worrying about him.
If he was okay.
Hurt.
Alive…
I was only human, it was only natural for me to be concerned. At least, that was what I told myself.
“I don’t know. I’m used to cooking for two people or a house full of uncles. I wouldn’t know how to cook for one person if I tried.”
“You’re a big fat liar. I can actually see your nose growing. You’re going to have to go to confession tomorrow for all the lies you’ve told me today.”
I sighed, she was relentless. “Fine, okay? I like cooking for him,” I admitted for the first time out loud and myself. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
She mocked, “But why, if you hate him? Oh! I know! Is it because you’re not keeping his balls empty, so you’re making up for it by keeping his belly full?”
I busted out laughing, falling onto the back of the sofa. She smiled, pleased with herself.
“You know what they say, Sienna. A man who eats prime rib at home won’t settle for fast food hotdogs, no matter how hungry he is.”
“Who says that?”
“Wise women who own half of everything, like you do. Anyway, back to the dirt. What else is going on? Huh?”
“Well…there is this one thing.”
“Jesus, girl, I’ve been here all day. Spill it already, I’m growing old just waiting for the goods. What?”
“Well, I don’t know when it started but it’s been going on for a few weeks now.”
She ate another piece of popcorn, her full attention focused on me.
“I fell asleep on the couch one night and I must have been sleeping pretty heavily because I don’t remember being moved.”
“Moved? What do you mean moved?”
“I woke up sleeping in my bed.”
“Cruz moved you?”
The expression on her face turned astounded when I replied…
“Yeah.”
Chapter 27
—Sienna—
“Did he wake up with you the next morning?”
“No.”
“Okay…did you ask him if he carried you up to bed?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t think it would happen again.”
“But it did?”
I nodded.
“When?”
“Every night since. I mean, when he actually comes home.”
She gasped. “Sienna! You’ve waited all afternoon to finally tell me this! How could you?”
I chuckled.
“Has he woken up in bed with you since?”
“No, we haven’t slept in the same bed, but…”
“There’s a but? Like butt sex?”
“Aurora! No!”
“Damn.”
“I think he watches me sleep.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Come again?”
“Yeah, weird, right?”
I swear I felt his presence during the nights I went to bed on my own. I’d often wake up feeling as if he was near, watching me while I slept. Even the nights he carried me up to our room, I waited for him to get into bed with me.
He never did.
He always left, closing the door behind him. Sometimes in the night, I’d wake up again in a panic, sitting straight up on the mattress. Only to be slapped in the face with the illusion of a man who wasn’t there. It bothered me.
A lot.
“Have you said something to him about either of those things?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I guess…” I thought about for a second before blurting, “I don’t want it to stop.”
She gasped again, louder that time.
“I know, right? What the fuck is wrong with me? I hate him.”
“Hate is a really strong word.”
“Aurora, we fight all the time.”
When he was around, which was rare, we fought like cats and dogs. I was the one who always started it, but I couldn’t help myself. I was annoyed, felt abandoned, and becoming more depressed with each passing minute. No one knew when his sister was going to be found. Anytime I asked him how things were going, he’d shut me out and blow me off. Saying it didn’t concern me.
It simply fueled my animosity toward him.
“That’s not fighting, Sienna.”
“It’s not?”
“Nope. That’s fucking foreplay and the day you guys finally do it, holy shit! It’s going to be straight up fire! I can’t wait to hear about it! I’m so excited for you! Just wait until you have your first orgasm! And as we’ve heard through the grapevine, your husband knows how to give multiples.”