Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
At five, I still my bitter thoughts, switch off the alarm, and start the sad task of waking her. If I could, I would’ve left her sleeping in my bed. I love having her between my sheets. She groans as I wipe her hair over her shoulder to kiss the gracious curve.
“Wake up, beautiful.”
“Gabriel.” Her voice is sleepy.
With much regret, I throw the sheet off, letting the fresh morning air cool our bodies.
Goose bumps break out over her arms. She turns on her back, rubs her eyes, and stretches.
“What time is it?”
I switch on the nightstand lamp. “Five.”
She sits up and swings her legs over the bed. Her back is a perfect portrait of frail vertebrae covered with silky skin.
She gives me a shy look from over her shoulder. “May I please use your bathroom? With all I drank last night, I won’t make it to mine.”
“Go ahead.” I want her to touch everything that’s mine. The thought of her fingers trailing over the objects that belong to me makes my skin contract with pleasure, as if she touches me.
Her slender hand brushes over the mattress as she gets up. She takes my shirt from the chair and pulls it on. Warmth at the sight of her wearing my clothes fills my chest. When she closes the bathroom door behind her, I get up to select my clothes for the day, but stop dead. Blood spots my sheets. It’s not much, only a few drops, but enough to tell me I’ve broken her again.
I jerk a suit from a hanger with a scowl. God knows I don’t deserve anything as beautiful and perfect as her, but I can’t let her go.
The door opens, and Valentina enters. Her cheeks are pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She smiles at me as she crosses the floor with small steps. Before she reaches the door, I cut her off. I pull her to me with my arm around her waist, cupping her sex gently with my free hand.
“Are you all right?”
She winces at my touch. “Just tired.”
Fury directed at myself combusts in my chest. “We’ll go to bed early tonight.”
She gives me a weak nod. “I better go before Carly or Magda wakes up.”
Reluctantly, I withdraw my touch. “I hurt you.”
“You wanted to.”
“Not like this. You should’ve told me.”
Her gaze holds mine. “No, Gabriel. You didn’t want to hear what I was trying to tell you.” Without another word, she walks gingerly from my room.
I let her go because I don’t have a goddamn choice. Abandoning the suit, I pull on my exercise gear, go down to the gym, and slam my fists into the punching bag until they bleed.
* * *
It’s going to snow in the middle of summer. Carly is having breakfast with us. She’s unusually chatty, to the point that Magda escapes with her coffee to her study.
“Dad,” she says after an exceptionally long account of her week at school, “I’ve got something to tell you.”
My gut twists inside out. I’m not going to like what’s coming. I brace myself as I wait silently with a stoic face.
“I’ve decided to move back in with Mom.”
The blow hits me right between the eyes. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I lower my cup and take a long, deep breath to calm myself. Sylvia’s unexpected visits and easy agreement to let Carly go out on dates suddenly make sense.
I’m careful to keep my voice even. “What prompted the sudden decision?”
“Mom misses me.”
The guilt card is a dirty one for Sylvia to play. “You don’t have to make a hasty decision.
Why not think it over for a while?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, already. It’s not like you’ll only see me every second weekend. I can come visit whenever I want.”
“Of course. Your room will always be here.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
There’s no point in arguing with Carly once her mind’s made up. She takes after me in that regard. I don’t trust Sylvia as a mother. She’s only ever proved to me she’s not capable of the job, and I don’t like Sylvia’s new boyfriend. All I can do is be there for Carly when she needs me.
“You’re not mad?” she asks.
“Of course not.” Disappointed, sad, but I’m not mad at my daughter.
“I’m packing some of my things today. Mom will fetch me tonight. Will you be here to say goodbye?”
So soon? “Of course.” The day, which has started out bad, goes several shades darker. “Let me know if you need a hand.”
“Thanks, but I’m cool.”
Unable to contain my emotions, I push back my chair. “I’ll pick you up after school.” “Uh, Dad?”
I pause, waiting for her to speak.
“Me and some girls from my class are going to Mugg & Bean after school.”
“Who’s driving?”
“Mom.”
“I’ll see you before you go, then.” I walk to the door before she sees the anguish I’m feeling in my eyes.