Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 53516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
"Rosalee," I began, but this time I was more confident, and I refused to let her give me a pass I didn't deserve. "I'm sorry. I am so fucking sorry for snapping at you when you were just trying to help me. You didn't deserve that, not at all, and I'm sorry."
She didn't say anything for a long time as she stood frozen at the stove. And then she sniffled, and I felt it right in the middle of my chest. "Apology accepted," she said after a silence that seemed to last at least an eternity.
I should've felt relaxed, calm, or at the very least, less guilty. But I didn't. "You accept my apology?"
She nodded.
I might not be all that great with women, but I knew enough to know that a simple nod could mean a million different things. "Do you forgive me?"
She sighed and turned to me with red eyes, a devastated expression on her face. "Do you want my forgiveness, Xavier?"
That question felt like a trap, which once again reminded me why I opted out of relationships.
"It's a pretty simple question, Xavier. Are you saying all this because you mean it or because you're worried I might quit and you'll have to learn to care for Violet on your own until you find my replacement?" She folded her arms and watched me carefully.
I had no fucking clue how to respond to that. "I feel bad for snapping at you the way I did. It was uncalled for, and that's not me."
She snorted and rolled her eyes.
That was fair. "Okay, fine, it's not who I want to be. I want to be—no, I need to be—better for Violet."
"Right." She turned her back to me but only for a second before she turned back with a big, steaming pot and set it on the table. She did it again before she took her seat. "Here's a tip, Xavier. If you want to be better for Violet, try getting a handle on your emotions so you don't treat people like crap and then apologize. Try just not treating people like a burden."
"You're not a burden," I insisted, rubbing my chest as her words smacked against it.
"I'm not important enough to you to be a burden. I'm the help," she said simply, as if that's all she thought she was to me.
"That's not true."
She scooped up a heaping spoonful of buttery mashed potatoes onto her plate and then ladled some brown sauce over them before she returned to our conversation. "It is true, Xavier, and I don't need you to sugarcoat it for the sake of my feelings. I'm well aware of who I am and what I am to you, but I am still a person and I deserve basic respect."
"You deserve a hell of a lot more than that."
She laughed, and the sound was bitter and brittle. "I'm sure that I do, but I'm not sure you're capable of more, so just treat me like I'm a human being. That's all I ask." She took a few bites of the food that teased my nostrils, but she didn't seem to enjoy it, and I was sure that it was my fault.
Again.
"You don't have to worry about me quitting. I plan to fulfill the terms of my contract, so let's just stop whatever this is." Her honey-brown gaze stared at me, studied me as if she was trying to figure me out, but eventually, she just gave up with a heavy sigh and a shrug. "Please."
Her words should have pleased me—she wasn't quitting, and that was good news—but they didn't. They held a hint of finality, as if she was closing the door on everything. Our friendship and us, everything but her job as a nanny. "I hope we can still be friends."
She dropped her spoon and glared at me with the intensity of a sworn enemy. "We were never friends, Xavier. I thought we were at one point. I thought you were opening up to me, maybe seeing me as something more than the hired help. I even thought that maybe we could be more than friends, but that was just wishful thinking. I was nothing more to you than a convenience, and I've accepted that. You need to as well." She pushed away from the table and shook her head. "I'll clean this later," she mumbled and then left the kitchen.
I felt like a complete asshole. I sat there and apologized for snapping at her when I was in pain, completely ignoring the time before that when I treated her badly. Like a convenience, she'd said. It wasn't true, but it was accurate.
My feelings for her had shocked me and pissed me off. The truth was, they scared the hell out of me, and I reacted terribly. If you asked my brother, he'd say I reacted the way I always do—by retreating—and he would be right. "Fuck!"