Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 111038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
See? It was something I liked doing, not just to eavesdrop on parties.
I shrugged. “I decided against it. Mr. Carl said my parents are in the studio today?”
Benny had gotten up, and now was coming back with a plate of cookies. He set them on the table, offering an encouraging smile my way, but he didn’t push them.
I held up my fast food bag. “I got food, Benny.”
He ducked his head with a shy smile. “That smells delicious as well.”
We’d come a long way from his heart attack over making dumplings. Now I could bring fast food in here—and look at that. He’d just smiled and nodded. Progress.
I set the bag on the table and went out to get the rest of my stuff. When I came back inside, the cheeseburger was now on a plate, the fries in a small dish, and Benny had a dipping sauce in another smaller container.
Classy all the way. That was Benny’s motto.
I smiled. “Thank you.”
Another dip of his head. “Do you need anything else, Miss Aspen?”
I shook my head. I’d never really asked for anything.
He hesitated, glancing back before moving into the kitchen. I heard the faucet turn on and the clank of pots. Miss Sandy came in behind me from the garage. She’d helped bring in my bag and was already going through it, pulling out the clothes she thought needed to be laundered. That was everything, even though I’d only changed my shirt once. I didn’t fight her.
“Your parents thought you’d be gone all weekend,” she said, her head bent over my bag. “They’re having a get-together this evening. A lot of business people are coming.” Her head came up, her eyes concerned. “Do you want me to make arrangements for you?”
I knew what she was asking.
This house was huge. It was easy for me to stay an entire week in my room and not hear anyone else. That wasn’t the issue. She was asking if I wanted any kids my age to be invited.
I gave her a look. “Miss Sandy.” She should know better.
She smiled, a sad look flaring briefly before she covered it. She cupped the side of my face. “You spend too much time alone.”
I shrugged, stepping away from her.
Her face tightened before she went back to digging through my bag.
“I’ll be good. I’m going to rent some movies and just crawl in bed.”
I didn’t need a lot of attention. I didn’t need a lot of anything, to be honest. And if I did need something, it was there. I just needed to pick up the phone or wander down a hallway, and I could make a request. Miss Sandy and Benny adored me. They doted on me.
I wasn’t saying my parents didn’t.
My parents loved me. I wasn’t a neglected child. I never felt as if they’d shipped me off because they didn’t want to deal with me. Even when Owen and I went to Hillcrest Academy, our parents checked on us regularly. They were around a lot of the time in the beginning too, but they traveled for their careers. Daily phone calls and sometimes hourly emails became the thing for us. I knew when I checked my computer, I’d have ten emails from my mom. So I never felt unloved. It wasn’t that.
I just preferred doing my own thing.
After Owen, it was easier that way.
“You ask me for anything. You hear me, Miss Aspen?” Sandy’s voice was hoarse.
I felt my throat close, and I bobbed my head. “I hear you, Miss Sandy.”
She nodded, her eyes holding mine as I slipped down the hallway.
4
Blaise
My phone woke me up on Monday morning.
Rolling over, I saw my screen. Marie calling.
I sat up, rubbing a hand over my face and hit the button. “Hey, Mom.”
“Where are you?”
Fuck.
I hadn’t gone home last night.
She was pissed, and glancing at the clock, I saw it was five in the morning. “I’m at Zeke’s.”
“You were at Zeke’s all weekend.”
“I was at Zeke’s cabin all weekend. We came back late, and I crashed at his house.”
She sighed loudly. Her voice went low. “I’m getting sick of this, Blaise.”
Yeah. Well. There was a lot to get sick of, on both our ends.
I didn’t say anything, though, because I got it.
I did my own thing. I never checked in with her.
It was different in New York. I’d been just as independent there, but she’d been busier. Luncheons. Banquets. Charities. She’d had more friends there too. A daily text checking in with her had satisfied her there, not here.
When we moved to California, everything changed.
She went through a quick divorce. There’s money, but now she wants to work too.
She changed. I hadn’t. I wanted to go back to the way we used to be, when she let me do my own thing. Then again, why she was trying to keep a hold on me was beyond me.