Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“I didn’t know,” he says quietly.
I inhale sharply, but I don’t answer.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” I tell him dryly.
We stay silent for a little while longer.
“When will you be back?” he asks quietly.
“Tomorrow afternoon for Willow’s dinner party.”
He nods and rolls his lips, unsure whether to speak or walk away.
We stand in silence, once again, and I just want him to go back inside the house. I honestly have nothing to say to him.
“I could have driven you.”
“No, thank you,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
The headlights appear at the end of the driveway, and I watch as the car pulls up to the front of the house.
“Goodbye, Mr. Masters,” I say flatly.
He stays silent.
I get into the car and look at him through the car window. He’s unmoving, still, with both of his hands in his pockets as he watches the car drive me away.
He looks so lost.
I roll my eyes, because he should.
He is.
Julian
“Brelly’s home!” Samuel yells from his position at the window.
I pretend to continue reading my book on the sofa, but no matter how many times I read a line on the page, I only see the words Brielle repeated to me: your mother killed herself to get away from you.
I’m failing miserably at this parenting thing, and I feel as though the weight of the world sits heavily on my shoulders. Willow hasn’t uttered a single word to me since Brielle left last night.
Willow comes bounding down the stairs and rushes out the front door with Samuel to meet their nanny.
I clench my jaw and turn the page.
I hate that they prefer her company to mine when she’s only been here for all of ten days. I know that says a lot about me.
My fingers flick the page in annoyance. I can hear all three of them coming up the stairs onto the landing.
“Oops, have you got it?” Brielle laughs.
I hear the rustling of plastic bags, and then I hear something bang.
“Ouch, watch it,” Willow snaps.
“Oh, that was close to your toe.” Brielle giggles.
“I know, just missed it,” Samuel answers in his enthusiastic voice.
“Be careful, will you? I don’t want to have to take you to A&E,” Brielle tells them.
The three of them laugh, and I can’t help but roll my eyes as I listen.
They come through the door, ladened with shopping bags.
I sit up. “What on Earth?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Masters.” Brielle smiles warmly as she struggles. “How is the man of the house today?”
I raise an eyebrow, surprised that she's talking to me. I rise and take the shopping bags from her hands, taking them through to put them on the kitchen counter. "I'm fine. And you?" I ask.
“Happy now that I’m home for Will’s dinner party?” She smiles. “I’m so excited. Are we ready to cook, pumpkin?”
Willow smiles and nods. “Yep.”
I place my hands on my hips as I watch her and Willow unpack the shopping bags. Who is this woman and what has she done with my grouchy daughter?
“So, what’s been going on around here, Mr. Masters?” she asks.
I shrug. “I’m surprised you’re talking to me, to be honest,” I admit.
Her eyes find mine. “Yesterday was yesterday, and we don’t hold grudges in this house, do we?”
“No. Because you did run him over first,” Samuel points out.
Brielle points at Samuel. “That’s right. I did.”
I’m silently grateful that she hasn’t come back prepared to launch World War Three.
“Do you want me to do anything?” I ask.
“Hmm.” She looks around. “I’ll get you and Sammy to set the table a little later, but nothing at the moment.”
“Okay.” I look around, wondering what to do.
“Go back to your book and relax.” She smiles.
I frown. She is the most confusing woman on the planet. Is she going to spike my food with arsenic?
I pick my book back up and sit back on the lounge.
I sit and listen to her help my daughter over the course of the next three hours. She’s teaching her to make fresh pasta as Sammy watches on from his place on the kitchen counter. Brielle is carefree, funny, and the children dote on her.
They are laughing freely, and I have to stop myself from smiling.
I thought I was just pretending to read before, but that was nothing, because now I’m not even focusing on the words on the page.
All I can hear is her voice, praising and directing my children, laughing and joking them, teaching them little life lessons as she does.
If only she knew she was tempting me to think about things I shouldn’t be thinking.
“Mr. Masters?” she calls.
I glance up, hoping she can’t read my mind.
“Yes, Brielle.”
She smiles warmly. “Can you and Sammy go outside and pick some fresh flowers for the table, please?”
“What for?”
“Because this is a dinner party and we want everything to be perfect.” I roll my eyes, thinking this is extreme. “Very well.” I get up from the lounge, and with Samuel in tow, go out into the garden.