Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Sara’s face lights up, her laugh bright, like a bell ringing through the room. She claps her hands, delighted. “That’s amazing! Jason’s never been big on art before. I should leave you here and go and stay with my mother more often. You’re a miracle worker, Amelia. He’s so lucky to have you.” Her words are warm and sincere, and they cut deeper, guilt coiling like a snake inside my stomach. She doesn’t know how much I’ve taken, how I’ve let myself love her husband, how I’ve let him love me back.
I force a smile, my throat tight, and gesture to the small table by the window, where a bottle of red wine sits beside a plate of blueberry scones that Max brought home yesterday. Their tops are dusted with sugar, and they are lovely and crumbly.
“Do you want some wine and scones?” I ask, my voice brighter than I feel. I’m desperate to keep this interaction light.
She nods, her smile easy. “And why not too?”
I pour two glasses, the wine glinting ruby in the sunlight, its scent rich with cherry and oak. I hand her one. Our fingers brush, and I flinch. Subtle and I don’t think she noticed, but it’s there, guilt making every touch feel like a new betrayal. We settle on the chaise, the scones on a plate between us, their buttery scent mingling with the wine. I take a sip and the velvety taste is just what my dry mouth needs. I break off a tiny piece of scone and put it in my mouth. The soft crumble melts in my mouth.
We talk, the conversation easy at first—her flight, the heat, and how horribly hot it can get in summer. She tells me about her mother and the details of her treatment, and I set my glass down and listen. My fingers stroke the stem of the glass absently.
Sara’s smile fades as she speaks, her eyes clouding, and then she leans back. She is slow and thoughtful as she speaks, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass.
“She’s… struggling,” Sara says, her voice quieter now, heavy with worry. “The doctors are doing what they can, but it’s been hard. Her heart’s weaker than they thought, and… well, it’s a lot.” She pauses, her gaze dropping to the wine, the liquid trembling slightly in her hand. “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you, Amelia. I have some bad news, and… a big favor to ask of you.”
My heart stops, a cold dread creeping up my spine. My hands are clasped tight, the scone forgotten. “What is it?” I ask, my voice strange even to my own ears.
Her eyes meet mine, earnest, almost desperate. Then she takes a deep breath and folds her hands in her lap, her knuckles white. “My mom’s actually deteriorated quite a bit, more than we anticipated,” she says, her voice trembling but steady, resolute. “I need to go back to her next week, just for another week, at most two. I know it’s a huge ask, especially with your work and your deadlines, but… would you stay? Another two weeks? Please? Jason loves you, Amelia—he’s so happy with you here. And Max…” She hesitates, her smile softening, tinged with something I can’t read. “He’s been different, lighter, since you’ve been here. I can’t stand the thought of leaving them alone again, not now, not when they’re so… settled.”
Her words hit like a wave.
For a few seconds, I can’t even breathe. Two more weeks with Max, with Jason, in this house, this life. It’s a gift, an incredible, radiant gift that sets my heart alight, and my skin tingling. Wow! The possibility of more stolen moments, more nights in his arms.
But it’s also a curse, a blade twisting deeper.
I know how much harder it’ll be to leave, to tear myself away from him when the time ends. My mind flashes to my publisher’s deadline, the half-finished sketches waiting, the pressure of work piling up, a tether pulling me back to my own life. I should go home, should run before this love consumes me, before I break under its weight, but Sara’s eyes plead, I see Jason’s grin, Max’s touch, the way he looks at me with so much love, and my resolve crumbles. No more than dust in the wind.
I hesitate, my fingers tightening on the stem of the glass. “Sara, I… I’ve got a deadline coming up,” I say, my voice soft, testing, trying to hold onto reason.
Her face falls, disappointment flickering in her brown eyes. “Oh, please, Amelia. Please help me.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make it work,” I say quickly, the words spilling out, reckless, binding. “I can stay. For Jason. For you… and Max.” My voice sounds weird, guilt and love tangling, but Sara’s smile is bright, radiant.
“Oh, Amelia, thank you. Thank you so much,” she says, her voice brimming with gratitude. Her hand reaches for mine, squeezing it gently. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. You’re family, and family always looks out for each other.”