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)
I lean in, pretending to hunt for his treasure, the grass at the edge of the patio tickling my knees.
“There it is. Right there!” He points at a flying shape. I squint into the bright sun and see it for an instant. When I turn back, his face has shifted, the brightness fading like a cloud passing over the sun. His shoulders slump, and he kicks at a pebble. The change is sudden, a shadow falling over him, and I am surprised.
"What’s the matter?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says. "Do you see it? It’s beautiful, right?"
"Yes, it is," I reply. "Really pretty." I brush a curl from his forehead, the strands soft under my fingers. “Where’ve you been all day? I missed you out here.” I keep my tone playful, but I would like to understand what’s dimmed his spark.
His gaze drops, his fingers twisting the hem of his T-shirt, the fabric bunching under his small hands. “I’ve just been… in my room. Studying,” he mumbles. The words are flat, and I can't help but sense something deeper, something wrong.
I sit back on my heels, the patio tiles warm beneath me.
“Your mom’s back,” I say, my voice gentle, though it trembles on her name, a fresh wave of shame washing over me. “That’s exciting, isn’t it? You must be happy she’s home.”
I force a smile, but it feels like it might crack, my insides churning with the hypocrisy of my words.
Jason’s face doesn’t brighten. Instead, he looks away, his face sullen, his eyes fixed on the grass. “Yeah, I’m happy,” he says, but the words are like a tide pulling back, revealing a truth I hadn’t seen until now.
It’s Sara—her return, her presence, that is stealing his light, turning this joyful, chattering boy into this quiet, guarded shadow. The realization brings sorrow to my soul and a selfish flicker of relief that I’m not alone in struggling with her being here.
“Jason,” I say urgently, and take his small hand in mine. “What’s wrong? You can talk to me, you know.” My eyes search his, seeking a glimpse of what’s weighing him down, but he shrugs, his lips pressed tight, like he’s guarding a secret too heavy for his small frame.
He pulls his hands free and steps back, his sneakers scuffing the gravel. “Can we have lunch together?” he asks, his voice small, almost pleading. “I called Mummy, and she said she’ll eat with us…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to the ground.
My stomach twists, as a cold dread spreads through me. Lunch with Jason and Sara, sitting across from her kind smile, her trusting eyes, while my heart is like a flame consuming itself. No way. It’s a performance I can’t bear today. Not when every moment with her feels like a confession of my sin.
I stand. Brushing dirt from my knees, I force a thin smile. “I’m sorry, little angel. I can’t today. I’ve got work waiting in the studio—those sketches won’t draw themselves.”
The excuse is flimsy, like a shield made of glass, but I cling to it. Anything to escape the thought of facing Sara, of pretending I haven’t slept with her husband every chance I got.
Jason’s face falls, and the sight is painful, but I can’t do this, can’t sit there and smile while I’m shattering inside.
“Okay,” he mumbles, his voice, small, defeated.
He turns and trudges back toward the house. I watch him go, his shoulders hunched, his sneakers dragging on the path. I feel sad, love, and guilt weaving a knot that I can’t untangle.
Slowly, I walk back to the house. The foyer is cool and dim, but I can hear the sound of the staff in the kitchen. I can hear someone running the vacuum cleaner upstairs.
Nothing is the same anymore.
I climb the stairs to my room. A strange thought comes into my head. I wonder if I will be able to smell Max on Sara. I close my eyes and tell myself not to be so crazy.
With a sigh, I shut the door behind me and lean against it. I drop my face into my hands. When I raise my head again, I realize I am exhausted. I hardly slept all night long. The soft expanse of the bed beckons to me. I walk to it and sink into its depth. The fabric feels lovely and cool against my skin. It wasn’t really my intention to fall asleep, just to have a little rest, but my eyes close, and I fall into a deep sleep.
Chapter
Forty-Two
AMELIA
Iblink, disoriented, and wake up in darkness. I didn’t plan to fall asleep this long. I sit up, and run a hand through my tangled hair, the strands catching on my fingers. The clock on the nightstand glows 8:17 p.m. I curse under my breath. Fuck. I’ve slept through the day, but my body still aches. Perhaps the stress and the late nights finally got me, and as far as my body is concerned, I’ve still not rested enough.