Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I don’t celebrate holidays or birthdays.”
“What?” I stopped in the center of the hallway. “Why not?”
“It is not a big deal.”
“But gifts are fun and celebrating birthdays are even more fun?”
He smirked. “I could find better ways and things to spend my time on.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “When is your birthday?”
“I am not telling you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I believe you will try to do something special on that day.”
“You are damned right about that. We could have fun. Isn’t this journey between us about having fun.”
Tristan gestured for us to go forward. “I’m never telling you when my birthday is. Additionally, I’ve never wanted presents, and I absolutely never expect them from others either.”
“That’s interesting. Do you mind if I ask why you feel that way? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“Perhaps, I’ve always been scared of the expectations that come with gift-giving.”
“What expectations?”
“I feel like if I receive gifts, it might lead to disappointment, or maybe I’d feel obligated to reciprocate in a way I’m not comfortable with.”
“It sounds like you might have a fear of vulnerability when it comes to relationships. By avoiding gift exchanges, you’re avoiding the risk of being hurt or letting someone down.”
Tristan frowned at me. “You do know that I am not your patient?”
Embarrassment caught me. “I’m sorry. This is a bad habit of mine. Ignore my musings.”
“I won’t ignore them.”
“Why not?”
“You may be correct.” He led us into a new space. “By the way, this is my reading nook.”
I grinned.
Quite a nook.
The scent of aged leather filled the air. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, filled with an eclectic mix of classic and modern literature. It was a bibliophile’s dream. And I felt a sense of contentment just being in its presence.
A soft, worn leather armchair sat in the corner.
Tristan spoke, “There are times when I sit here with a book and get lost for hours.”
“This is a perfect place to escape with a good book.” I spotted a large photograph at the back of the wall.
Oh, wow. What is this?
Unable to help myself, I let go of his hand and went over to that one. “This is interesting.”
The black and white photo showed the shadows of two people walking with a kid in the middle of them. However, you could only truly see the three shadows of these people on the concrete. It was so distorted, I wasn’t sure if it was parents on a walk with their child, or older siblings with a very young one.
Tristan got to my side. “I could never figure out what to put in this room, so. . .I settled on this one.”
I looked at him. “Why this one?”
“The black and white goes perfectly with all of the color in the room.”
Or the shadows could hint at hidden fears and traumas lurking beneath the surface of your subconscious.
Was he struggling with confronting his childhood demons and the darkness that still haunted him?
Fuck. Stop it.
I quickly turned away.
Tristan’s hand found its way to my lower back, pulling me closer to him. “Are you okay?”
I forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Tristan didn’t seem convinced. “I have shown my place to many before.”
Many women.
He eyed me. “But with you. . .”
“Yes?”
“For some reason, I feel like I am a magician revealing his secrets of how he did the trick.”
“Maybe because to bring a person in your home, is to open them up to the real you.”
He grinned. “But is that really true?”
“It is.”
“People can curate and decorate their homes to represent lies.”
“Still, the truth always peeks out in different corners of the room. One can never really hide the truth of themselves, especially in their living space.”
“Interesting.” He gestured for us to move on. “Then, come on, I still have more secrets to show you.”
I laughed.
He led me out of the reading nook and down another hallway.
We passed by several doors.
Then, we continued into the kitchen.
This is nice.
I was immediately struck by the sleek, modern design. High-end stainless steel appliances gleamed under the recessed lighting, and a spacious marble island dominated the center of the room.
The aroma of delicious food wafted through the air.
“Besides my studio and reading nook, I can be found in here, bothering my chef, Pierre.” Tristan walked over to him.
The chef was an older gentleman dressed in a traditional, crisp white chef’s uniform.
Tristan gave the man a warm smile. “Nova, this is Pierre, the culinary mastermind behind all the amazing food you will be feasting on today.”
I shook his hand. “I want to say thank you in advance. It smells so good. I already know everything will be amazing.”
“I hope so.” Pierre had a hint of pride in his eyes. “Ah, Tristan always knows how to flatter me. A pleasure to meet you, Nova.”
Tristan watched our interaction.
Pierre studied me. “Do you like to cook?”