Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
A peace deepens inside me as that dream my parents planted gasps its final breath, dying right here in the kitchen where Kristeene used to serve Walsh and me banana bread after school. There’s no doubt in my mind I could never have satisfied Walsh. And honestly, he probably could never have satisfied me. He didn’t want me enough, and I realize now, experiencing the way Trevor wants me, and for the reasons he does, how it feels to be wanted and prioritized that much, that way. I don’t know that I can ever settle for less than that again.
“Come on down to the studio.” Kerris washes her hands, drying them on a towel draped over the oven handle. “I’ll show you the pieces I’ve been working on.”
The jewelry is as delicate and unique as its creator. Several pieces lay on the windowsill, drying and in various stages of completion.
“I’d buy this right now.” I touch a bangle studded with rough stones. “I love all of these, Kerris. You’re really talented.”
“Coming from you, that means a lot.” A blush steals over Kerris’s high cheekbones. “Thank you.”
“I mean it. I’m pretty stingy with compliments.” I grin to remove any possible sting from my comment. “So how would you like to be a Haven artisan?”
“Your assistant gave me a little of an overview.” Kerris sits down on her workbench, gesturing for me to do the same. “But tell me more.”
I unpack the Haven vision for Kerris the way I did for Trevor, including the charitable efforts and future plans to expand into clothing, household items, and furniture.
“That’s amazing, Sofie.” New respect creeps into Kerris’s eyes. “I kind of always thought you were just a pretty face.”
“Oh, I am a pretty face.” I tap my finger to my temple. “I’m just also very smart. I keep that a secret because if girls knew I had that going for me, too, I’d have even fewer friends.”
Kerris laughs, shaking her head.
“That’s sadly true in a lot of ways,” she says. “Okay, I’m in. What’s the next step?”
“You’re in?” I clap my hands, a wide grin taking over. “That’s great. I’m thinking we call your line K. Bennett for Haven. Whaddaya think?”
“I love that.” Excitement lights Kerris’s face and eyes. “Let’s do it.”
We talk through a few details, both sketching ideas on a pad on her worktable. My phone dings with a text. I grimace when I read the message.
“Everything okay?” Kerris returns a few of the pieces back to the windowsill.
“My guard dog was just letting me know he’s back.” I slip the phone into my purse. “He dropped Stil off at the office and is outside when I’m ready. Apparently a few reporters somehow got wind of the fact that I’m here and are outside. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t even worry about it. Has it been awful?” Kerris asks. “I mean, I know some of his supporters have been especially…”
“Vicious?” I finish for her. “Yeah, they have, but no one has actually threatened me or walked up to me saying awful things. Mostly online. There’s been a lot of support, too. The security is just a precaution.”
“I heard you have one person’s support you can absolutely count on.” A teasing smile plays at the corners of Kerris’s mouth. “Trevor Bishop.”
“Does Walsh tell you everything?” I complain, mock exasperation in my voice.
“Pretty much.” She laughs, walking toward the door, allowing me to leave ahead of her before turning off the light.
Something occurs to me. I’ve never thought there was much I could learn from a girl like Kerris. We’re nothing alike. Our priorities live on different planets, but she makes it work with a man from a completely different background, who grew up driven by completely different things. They figured it out and have one of the happiest relationships I’ve seen.
“Let me ask you something,” I say as we climb the stairs to the kitchen on the main level.
“Ask away.” She straddles the bench at the farmhouse table, facing me. “And take a load off.”
I sit, resting my elbows on the table before turning my head to look at her squarely.
“You mentioned Trevor Bishop.” I pass my hand over my hair, feeling a little self-conscious. “We are…seeing each other, like you said, even though we’re keeping it kind of quiet. We’re just so different. The press is even calling us the Sinner and the Saint.”
“Oh, gosh. Why can’t people be as interested in their own lives as they are in everyone else’s?”
“Well said and preaching to the choir.” I laugh a little. “How do you and Walsh make it work? I mean being so different.”
“I let our differences keep us apart for a long time, as I’m sure you remember.”
She gives me a knowing look, probably because I exploited those differences to keep them apart in any small ways I could, too.