Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Wandering over, I lower to the old wood, running my palms over the flaky surface. It could do with a sand and paint. I smile to myself, resting back, taking a moment. Listening to the nature I’ve never heard before, birds tweeting, squirrels doing acrobats through the branches, the odd fox screaming in the distance. Here at The Manor, I’ve only ever heard moans of pleasure, seductive laughs, small talk. I look at the card again, tapping it on my knee.
Talk to John.
I get up and pace back to The Manor, pausing at the door for a second to admire the sparkly gold knob. I can see my face it in before I encase it with my hand and push my way inside. I notice the landscape pictures on the walls mounted in heavy, chunky gold frames and move closer. They’re not random landscapes. They’re of the grounds of The Manor. I laugh under my breath. Carmichael’s way of getting members to appreciate the exterior while being on the inside? The only way these pictures would be appreciated is if they were hung on the ceiling of the communal room. I turn, admiring the staircase that sweeps elegantly up to the first floor. The round table in the center on the entrance hall that I’ve only ever seen a vase of flowers on.
John appears from the summer room. Stops. Looks me up and down. “Drink?” I ask, motioning to the bar. His raised brows are warranted as he follows me in and perches on a stool. I round the bar, getting us a water each.
“Have you thought anymore about Sarah?” he asks, wrapping his sausage fingers around the glass when I slide it across to him.
Not really. I’ve had other things on my mind. “You mean since I said a clear no to her yesterday?” I remain on the other side of the bar, lifting an eye to look at him. “You heard that, right?”
“I heard.”
But he’s still hoping. “I don’t know if my marriage will sustain it, John.”
He nods, thoughtful. “She’s sorry, you know that.”
“Yeah, I know that.” Whether that be because she’s lost everything or not, I don’t know. “She wanted to see Ava. Apologize.”
“If anyone needs to talk to Ava about this, it’s you.”
“Oh, I know,” I say, taking some water. “But we’re just back on track, John, and I’m not sure I want to rock the boat.” I pull out the card and slide it onto the bar.
John looks down at it. “What’s that?”
“A card.”
“I can see it’s a card.” He pushes the tip of his index finger into the cardboard and drags it towards him, removing his shades with the other hand, reading it, silent. Then he exhales and pushes it back.
“Well?” I ask.
“Well, what?”
“He said he wanted to buy The Manor.”
“I know.
I stand up straight. “What do you mean, you know?”
“I mean what I say, and I said, I know. He manages the property acquisitions for a luxury leisure company.”
“Wh—” I snap my mouth shut as John dips his chin, drumming his fingers on the bar. “You saw him loitering too?”
“I saw him,” John confirms.
“And what did you say?”
“I said the owner was unobtainable at that moment in time, because he was.”
“Where was he?”
“Barricaded in his office drinking and fucking his way out of a happy ever after.”
I inhale, the sting real. “You didn’t tell me?” That was weeks ago.
“Because you’ve been trying to get back on track since, and I didn’t want to hurt that little brain of yours more.”
I huff. Cheeky fucker. My brain is fine. Not pickled. It’s my reproductive system that’s the problem. “What do you think?”
“I think you should talk to them.”
I cough over my surprise. “You do?”
“Yeah, I do.” He smiles and it’s not a smile you see on John much. Mild. Knowing. “You’ve outgrown The Manor, Jesse. It no longer serves a purpose for you.”
“But Carmichael.” I round the bar and lower to a stool, my legs struggling to hold me up.
“What about him?”
“Well, it was his life.”
“And he’s dead, Jesse.” He shrugs his colossal shoulders. “You’re not dead.”
“But what would you do if there was no manor?”
“Me?” He smiles, and it’s precious. “I’d have a fucking life beyond worrying about you, motherfucker.”
I laugh, but my throat closes up too. Shit. Are we actually having this conversation? “So we talk to them?”
“Sure,” he says, easy as that. “Hear what they have to say. It can’t hurt.”
“Can’t it?” I ask, feeling a stab of pain in my gut. Oddly, The Manor ruined my life. It also saved it, and the deep attachment, no matter how much I have resented it lately, will be hard to let go of.
John stands, and my eyes lift to accommodate him. “I’m not going to mention Jake or Rosie again,” he says quietly. “You know my position. You know I think you should share that part of your life with your wife.” A tilt of his head, and I look away. “It’s your call, but I think you’re making a mistake.” His hand lands on my shoulder and rubs. “Let me know what you decide to do about Owen Cutler.” He nods at the card on the bar before he leaves, and I pick it up and stare at it as I sit in silence alone.