Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Is that what you believe?” she asks. “Why?”
“My mother cheated on my father, yet she claimed to love him. Aren’t you meant to protect those you love?” I tell her, truthfully.
“I guess, but one bad outcome shouldn’t deter you. My grandparents had the greatest love, and one day, I want that for myself,” she tells me, and her honesty surprises me.
“You’ll get it.”
“Just not with you, right?” she says, turning back over and lying down.
“Do you want to play another game?” I ask, avoiding her question.
“No,” she answers, not even looking my way.
“This doesn’t have to be so painful, you know.”
Lottie doesn’t answer me.
It’s probably for the best.
Who knows what else I might say to her?
Who knows what else she could bargain from me?
“Whiskey,” Lottie pushes.
I swear I just passed out.
Why is she waking me? I want to sleep.
She pushes me again, kicking me in the leg. “Whiskey.”
Opening my eyes, I see her next to me, her hands on my chest, my sheet on the floor.
“You were screaming,” she says, her eyes not moving from me, her hand flat on my chest. “What were you dreaming about?” she asks.
Sitting up, I wipe the sweat from my face. “Go back to sleep, Lottie.” I climb out going straight to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and leaning against it. Checking the time, it’s only been an hour. How the fuck can it only be an hour? I felt like I was trapped in that dream and couldn’t escape for hours. I haven’t had that nightmare for quite some time. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my father’s face, white as a ghost hanging from our garage ceiling.
Standing under the cold water, I let it wash over me hoping it will bring some relief to the hell I was just in.
As I close my eyes to calm my racing heart, I see him again. I’m not even in bed yet and I already know sleep is not going to be happening tonight.
I turn off the shower, get out, and dry myself off.
Lottie is sitting up, looking at the door. She turns to me when I walk out and climb into bed. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Why lie?
“I usually sleep like the dead, but your screams scared me,” she says, shivering. “They sounded painful.”
“It’s over now. Go back to sleep, Lottie.”
“Did you need me to do anything?” she asks.
I lie back after switching off the light, and I close my eyes. Her hand finds mine in the pillow fort, and she grips it, then soon, her soft snore fills the room while her hand stays locked in mine. And somehow it feels like a relief to have her there.
I don’t let go until the morning.
CHAPTER 21
LOTTIE
Whiskey has avoided me for almost a week. It isn’t until the day before our wedding when I come home and he’s actually there—at the table with it set up to eat.
“Did you cook?” I ask while sitting. I cooked all week and put his food in the oven every night. The plate was clean each morning when I got up, but he was always gone. If it weren’t for that, I would have questioned if he even came home to sleep. A few times, I’ve woken up in the middle of the night and seen him sleeping next to me. But he’s always gone before I wake.
“No, I don’t cook, you know that,” he says, sliding a glass of water my way.
“Thanks.” He nods. “Are you nervous?” I ask him, referring to tomorrow.
“Should I be?”
“I am. I’m getting married. Forced or not, it doesn’t matter.”
“Only ten and a half months to go, Lottie, then you will be set free.”
Eleven months, I read in the contract, started from the date I moved in. The time is getting shorter, and I couldn’t be happier about it. If only I didn’t have to actually marry him in the first place.
“Why are you here? Isn’t it a thing for you to be away from me tonight?” he asks.
“Emma suggested it, but this isn’t as real as I would have wanted it to be if I were marrying the love of my life. So why treat it that way?”
He nods. “Fair enough.”
“What kind of kiss are we going for tomorrow?” I ask him. That kiss has been on my mind ever since it happened. It needs to go away.
“What one would you like?”
“Fast and quick,” I tell him.
Whiskey drags his teeth over his bottom lip, not answering me, then goes back to his food. I play with mine, not sure what else to say to him. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about what happened that night.
“How was your day?” he asks finally after he finishes. A glass of wine comes to his lips, and he looks at me over the brim.
“Is this the game we’re playing?” I ask him. “You pretend like this is normal and we’re friends? Or what?” My anger’s rising.