Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
The restaurant is busy. I’m tense because the last time I stepped into a restaurant, well, we got to the dinner being delivered and then all hell broke loose. I hoped this one went a little better, otherwise I wouldn’t eat out again. Not ever.
I spot Ivan in the middle of the restaurant and I see Slavik and Aurora as well as Andrei and Adelaide. My heart is pounding but I hope it doesn’t show. There is one other man at the table, but I cannot remember his name.
“Ah, Charlotte, you look stunning,” Ivan said.
All eyes turn toward me, and I hate being the center of attention.
There are two seats remaining. Ivan pulls me into an embrace and I hug him back. He puts me in the seat next to him, and Ive is right beside me.
“Let me introduce you to the table,” Ivan said. He goes around the table and I smile at each person. The last is a man called Victor. I remember he’s the one who’s helping Ive so that we can have a honeymoon. I offer him a smile. “And your husband, you know.”
This makes me chuckle. Beneath the table, Ive takes hold of my hand and I’m so thankful. Can he see me visibly shaking? I’m so afraid of messing up right now. I don’t have a single clue as to what I’m doing. His fingers lock with mine.
I expected the conversation to turn to business but it wasn’t long before Ivan asked Adelaide what she would like to eat. Much to my surprise, Adelaide was a vegan, and this restaurant had been chosen so she would be able to eat.
There were times I couldn’t quite follow conversations because I was out of my comfort zone.
The conversation seemed to flow, bouncing from one person to another, talking about the weather, which was insane to think of these scary men talking about something so mundane. Adelaide talked about a trip to one of the islands and then to England, which sounded lovely.
Aurora talked about her son, Slavik Ivan. I watched the couples. While Aurora talked about her family, Slavik wrapped his arms around her waist. It was a simple action many might see as possessive, but I watched the tips of his fingers. They stroked her arm. It was subtle, but I saw it. Slavik was very much in love with his wife and even while they were out in the open, he offered her comfort, showed her love and affection, and it was disguised as possessive.
“I cannot wait to come for a visit.” The moment I spoke, I saw,Slavik didn’t like my words. His lips pursed.
Turning my attention to Adelaide, I also saw that Andrei had moved his chair closer. The distance between the chairs was exactly the same, but Andrei had made sure he was close to his wife. They also kept drawing closer, almost like a magnet. I wonder if they even realized that. They were both in love and very happy.
Ive’s hand tightened on mine.
“What about you, Charlotte?” Aurora asked.
I’d been so distracted by watching everyone, I turned to Aurora. “I’m sorry?”
“What would you like to be when you’re older?”
As if on instinct, I just can’t help it. “I’m trash.” The words spill from my lips and the moment they do, I jerk back.
Holy crap. I don’t even know how that spilled out. Tears sprang to my eyes. How did the conversation turn to something so trivial?
He’s dead. So fucking dead. My father. The piece of shit that he was.
The table has gone silent and I’m so mortified.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I kicked off the shoes because there’s no way I’d walk on them and get away fast enough. I push my chair back and in the process, bump a passing waiter. “Crap, I am so worry.” He doesn’t have any food, so that’s not a disaster, but everything has gone blurry.
I need to leave. Rushing away from the table, I don’t care how crazy I look, even though it doesn’t take a genius to figure out I’m a crazy woman. Why would they talk about the future and growing up?
Stepping into the bathroom, I quickly made my way into a stall and pressed my back against it. I’m relieved by the coolness of the door and lift my head up, trying to stop the tears. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to remember. My mind had other ideas.
“What are you?”
“Your daughter.”
I cry out as the slap is hard and painful. My pants are down to my ankles and my father is standing behind me. His palm is so painful.
“What are you?” he asked again.
I want to say “your daughter” again, but I don’t. He has told me what to say and even though I don’t want to, to stop the pain, I have to say the words. “Trash.”