Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
My smile is genuine. “Then we better not let it go to waste.”
I use my new key to let us in through the front door. The television is on. My pulse spikes. That’s strange. What’s that smell? Popcorn?
“Make yourself at home,” I say, trying to keep my voice normal as I remove my coat. “You know where to find the wine.”
While he goes through to the kitchen, I hold my breath as I round the sofa. The throw from the backrest lies cast aside on the seat, and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn stands on the floor. A movie is playing with the sound turned down.
I can only guess who broke into the house. The cold air coming through an open lounge window tells me how he got in. The windows open with a sliding system. He must’ve forced it open. Shall I mention something to Fabien? What if he tells my husband? I don’t want Angelo to go on a child hunt, but this can’t go on. We need to find out who the poor little boy sneaking into the house is so that we can help him.
Fabien speaks behind me, making me jump. “Toy Story? My God. How old is that?”
I pick up the remote and switch off the television. “It’s one of my favorites.”
For some reason, I’m hesitant to tell him the truth. I want to break the news to Angelo myself. I need to make sure he won’t scare or harm the child.
“Hmm.” Fabien grins. “Movies and popcorn are one of my favorite activities too.” Waltzing ahead of me with the clothes bag in his hands, he takes the stairs with bouncy steps. “I poured the wine. Grab the glasses while I lay out the dress. I can promise you, when Angelo sees you in this creation, he won’t be able to keep his eyes off you. Or his hands, for that matter.”
Chapter
Fourteen
Angelo
* * *
The air is crisp on top of the hill. The oxygen seems thinner. It’s just my imagination though. The graveyard is the reason why every breath punishes my lungs. Situated on the highest point of the property, the graves face the sea in the east and the mountains in the west. The view is beautiful. The landscape is stark and unpretentious. A few bushes grow between the rocks, lending splashes of green to the brown landscape. There’s honesty in the simplicity. Peace. That’s why I buried them here and not in the overpopulated cemetery in Bastia.
The three headstones are new. They’re the first ones to mark the family burial ground. My mother and father lie side by side. Adeline is next to my mother. The empty plot left of her is reserved for me. A distance away is a marking for my wife’s grave. She won’t rest close to me. If she’ll rest at all. Maybe her spirit will haunt me in the afterlife just as she haunts me in the flesh in this life.
I remember the roses in my hand when the thorns dig into my palm. I haven’t realized how tightly I was squeezing my fist. The sharp pricks of pain ground me in the moment, pulling me from my dark thoughts to the present.
Stepping up, I place the perfect white hothouse blooms on Adeline’s grave. I take a moment to trace my thumb over her name that’s engraved in the marble. A cascade of sorrow crashes down on me, leaving me hollow and destitute. I miss my sister’s bubbly nature and impulsive hugs so much I feel it like a punch in the gut. Regret is a monster that breathes fire into my chest. I regret not spending more time with her when I had the chance. I regret not showing more interest in her friends. I was always too rushed, too busy to take over the business, too caught up in work to make the time.
I pick up the two remaining bouquets and leave them on my parents’ graves. More regret torments me when I kiss my fingertips and press them on my mother’s name. I always did too little for her. Always too late. I’ll never forgive myself for failing her, for never giving her the gift of rehousing her family while she was alive. I’ll never forgive myself for her death. And my father… He never witnessed the wedding he was so set on bringing to fruition. Neither did he enjoy the vengeance of Sabella’s death. He died having given that order, knowing I hadn’t executed it. He died before I had a chance to let him come to terms with my decision. Because of my actions, he couldn’t pass on peacefully.
And me?
I’m the despicable traitor who thinks about love when I fuck my wife. I’m the weak man who too damn quickly ignores that she’s my enemy. I should let her rot in her banishment. I should hate and torment her. Instead, I held her in my arms as I slept in her bed. I let the unthinkable happen, letting her get to me. Letting her crawl even deeper under my skin. Because something happened this morning when I came inside her, something intimate that gave me pause.