Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I sigh and slump against the sink, the edge digging into my hip. “It’s… not what I thought. I saw this huge manor next door—sleek, like a damn mansion from a Hollywood movie—and for a second, I thought that’s what I got. But nope. This is it… Flintstones-level luxury. Stone walls, sure, but it’s falling apart. Junk everywhere—books, teacups, creepy old portraits. Grandma was a hoarder, Sandy. I’m drowning in it.”
“Oh! Er…so you’re leaving?” she asks, her voice full of hope.
I chew my lip, staring at the warped floorboards under my boots. “No,” I say, and it surprises me how sure it sounds. “For some reason, even this feels better than Chicago. Like there’s something to look forward to, even if it’s just… not going back. I gave myself six months. I’ll see it through. If I’m losing my mind at three, I’ll cut it short and come home.”
“Wow,” Sandy says, half-laughing. “I’m inspired by your tenacity, I have to admit.”
This makes me smile. “Enough about me. What’s the latest with you?”
She groans, and I can picture her flopping onto her beat-up couch. “Same old same old,” she says, her voice dragging into a whine. “No hate, maybe I’ll lose it soon as well and come join you.”
I chuckle at the thought of where I would put her.
“You know Daniel lost his job, right?”
“Yeah,” I reply,
“Well, I’m freaking the fuck out. At first, I thought he’d be okay, you know, he’d find another, but it’s been like three months, and I feel him slowly losing motivation. It’s alright but I’m on a teacher’s salary, and I cannot continue to handle the bills for both of us. We fight more now, and it’s all just incredibly stressful.
I exhale heavily. “That sucks. I’m sorry, Sandy. I’m sure he’ll pick up. It’ll get better. God, I wish I were in a position to help you.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “I know you’re penniless. Anyway, you just got there. Have you met anyone yet? You mentioned a manor? Have you met the owners?”
My stomach does a little flip, and I grimace, pacing the cramped kitchen, my shoes catching the warped linoleum. “Oh, yeah,” I say, letting the sarcasm drip. “I’ve met my neighbor. A he. And surprise, surprise, he’s a total asshole.”
She is amused at this. “People already aggravating you? You went there to find peace.”
“Well, it’s clear to me now that he’s going to try to stress me out. You wouldn’t believe it, but he came here on a horse. Could hardly believe my eyes.”
“Wait? What kind of place have you ended up in? Have they got no cars over there?”
“Yeah, they do. Looks like it’s only the rich that ride out here,” I explain.
“What did he want? He just came to say hello or what?”
“No, he wanted to buy this place. I guess they’ve been waiting for the owner to come here, he wants to add it to his land, probably demolish the cottage. I can’t lie, I would have been tempted if I wasn’t so tired from the flight and all, but he was just so haughty. No pleasantries. Nothing. Just got straight to the point.”
“That is usually a good thing,” she murmurs, trying to hide her snicker, but I hear it anyway.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t in the mood so I drove him off.”
“Expected,” Sandy says. “Please tell me if he rode in on a damn horse he was at least good looking?”
I instantly groan, not wanting to pay him any compliment whatsoever, but I cannot bring myself to say otherwise. “He’s, um…. I hate to fucking admit it, but I guess he’s handsome. Tall, dark hair, gray eyes that just… God, they’re ridiculous, I’m ridiculous. But none of that matters. He’s a prick.”
“Ooh,” Sandy teases. “Handsome? Ridiculous eyes? Prick on a horse? I don’t care what you say, you’re living in a romance novel! His eyes though—tell me more. Are we talking, like, smoldering? Piercing? Give me something here.”
“Oh my God, Sandy.” I mutter, but I’m grinning now, shoving off the counter and carefully maneuvering myself around the piles of rubbish towards the kitchen.
“C’mon,” she cajoles. “This was part of the plan, right?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Just fucking tell me about him already. Describe his eyes.”
I sigh but give in regardless. “They’re… piercing, I guess. Like he’s staring right through you, all cold and shit. Whatever. Point is, he’s an ass, and I’m not budging on that.” I yank open the fridge, and a sour stench slams into me. In amongst an assortment of what was once food, I make out a thick piece of moldy cheese and something green and fuzzy that might’ve been a vegetable once.
“Fuck,” I curse, slamming the door shut.
“Are you okay? Lauren?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, waving off the putrid stench. “The fridge is a nightmare—it stinks, like death or something. Sorry grandma. I’m starving, though, and it’s getting dark. I can’t go out now. Not if I want to end up in a ditch or something.”