Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Meanwhile, Salvatore was having a very different experience than I was.
In an odd sort of way, we’d traded lives. Suddenly I was the one with free time, while he was working incredibly long hours.
By the time he joined me for a quick breakfast each morning at eight, he’d already been painting for two or three hours. He always worked through lunch, so I got into the habit of filling a plate and taking it to him. He didn’t pause to eat, but he’d pick at it throughout the afternoon.
It was fascinating to watch him paint, and to see the canvas slowly evolving. But he seemed to have a hard time concentrating when I was in the studio, so I never stayed for more than a minute or two.
I saw him again for about ten minutes at dinnertime. He always asked if I was okay before quickly wolfing something down and going right back to work.
Every night on my way to bed, I saw the light was still shining under the studio’s closed door. I had no idea when he quit for the day because we were sleeping in separate bedrooms, but judging by how tired he looked, he had to be working late into the night.
When I suggested taking a little time off to rest, he’d said, “I can’t. I need to get this done, so you can get out of here.”
“You mean, so we can get out of here.”
“Yes, but if it was just me, I wouldn’t care if this took six months. I’m trying to get you back to your life, your diner, and all the people who depend on you, as soon as I possibly can.” When I pointed out that everyone was actually doing remarkably well without me, he’d muttered, “I still need to hurry. You’re not safe here.”
I obviously got why he was concerned, but to me, it was sort of like living beside a pond full of alligators. I’d been nervous at first. But after several days of this, I was confident that if I stayed where I was supposed to and didn’t do anything to rile them up, they weren’t going to hurt me.
So, that was my life at the mansion. I found ways to pass the time, I stayed out of trouble… and I spent a hell of a lot of time thinking about Tory and me.
The way I felt about him hadn’t changed. I knew that for a fact. But there were a lot of emotions involved with everything that had happened, and I was trying to sort through them.
We obviously needed to talk, but he was totally focused on finishing that painting and getting us out of here. It felt like we were in limbo, and I wasn’t sure how to get us back on track.
On Saturday, a full week after arriving at the mansion, an intense dream woke me up in the middle of the night. I always slept with a small lamp on because this place was creepy in the dark, and I turned on a second one before rolling onto my side and pulling the blanket up to my chin.
It hadn’t been a nightmare. Not exactly. Salvatore and I had been running to catch a plane, and there was a real sense of urgency. I didn’t know where it was going, just that we had to be on it, and we were very late. I’d turned my head to look at a monitor, because I wanted to make sure we were heading for the right gate. When I turned back, Salvatore was gone. A wave of panic shot through me, and that woke me up.
It was pretty easy to figure out what that dream had been about. The plane probably represented us trying to get back home. But the part that rattled me was the feeling that Salvatore and I had lost each other—obviously not in the way we had in the dream, but in the sense that what we’d had was gone forever.
I’d thought I needed some time to put everything into perspective. Even though we’d left everything up in the air, I’d always assumed we’d be able to talk this out and fix what was broken.
But what if we couldn’t find our way back to us?
I sat up in bed as a cold feeling of dread ran through me. What if we’d waited too long to talk, and now everything was ruined?
No, I couldn’t accept that. There was still time to fix this. There had to be.
I leapt out of bed and rushed across the room. I had to find Tory, right now. We had to talk this through before it was too late.
I threw open the door and almost tripped over something on the floor. At first, I thought it was a pile of bedding. Then Tory sat up, his blanket sliding off of him as he blinked and looked around. When he saw me standing in the doorway, he asked, “Are you okay?”