Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“I’m waiting for a response,” he said.
“I heard everything. I won’t give you any trouble.” As I said the words, I knew they weren’t true. My existence was troubling him. There was no way a cold grinch like him could exist in a house with me and not get annoyed, but it wasn’t like I’d asked to be here.
“I hope not.” He waved toward the door, and I left without saying anything else. There was so much anger seething under his cold facade. Did others not see through it? If not, why did I? And why did I want to push him until he exploded with anger, letting all the heat I imagined he had walled up inside come roaring out?
Because I was stupid, that’s why. Hadn’t I just told him I didn’t want to die?
You need to leave him alone.
But that would make things so boring.
Don’t cause trouble. I heard this advice in my mom’s voice. She’d been a big advocate of not making waves, and it had made having a talkative, out-and-proud son very difficult for her.
I returned to my room and finished unpacking. I’d just realized how hungry I was when someone knocked on my door. Was Mr. Marchesi back again? I hadn’t heard him—or anyone else—approach.
Was something up? Some kind of threat no one was anticipating? Maybe some reason they needed to move me somewhere else?
I opened the door, but it wasn’t Mr. Marchesi. It was a young woman wearing chef pants and an apron. “Good afternoon. I’m Beatrice, Mr. Marchesi’s housekeeper.”
I held out my hand. “I’m Corey.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Corey. Would you like something to eat? Mr. Marchesi usually has me bring a tray to his office. You are welcome to come to the dining room, or I can bring you something here.”
“I’d love to see the dining room, but I’m happy to eat in the kitchen. I’m used to a small apartment, so this is all a bit overwhelming.”
She smiled. “I can imagine. My own apartment is about the size of Mr. Marchesi’s sunroom.”
“You don’t live here?”
“No. I’m here all day Monday through Thursday and Friday morning to do cooking and general housework, but Mr. Marchesi likes his privacy.”
I thought about my spotless room, the towels laid out for me, toiletries in a basket on the bathroom counter. “I suppose you’re responsible for having my room ready for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. The room is lovely, and you don’t need to call me sir. Just Corey is fine.”
“All right, Corey. Do you need anything other than dinner?”
“Would you show me the living room and sunroom? Those are the only places other than the kitchen that I’m allowed to go, but I haven’t gotten a tour.”
She sighed. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
She showed me both rooms and they were as large and stunningly decorated as I expected them to be. Mr. Marchesi liked nice things, antiques, soft fabrics, and books, so many books. The kitchen was far more modern or at least the appliances were. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in the dining room?”
“No, this is fine,” I said as I took a seat at the island. “I glanced at the clock on the stove and saw that it was after six.”
“Do you need to leave? I don’t want to keep you even though I’d really like someone to talk to.”
She laughed. “Mr. Marchesi didn’t want to chitchat?”
“Not at all.”
“I’ll head out once I’ve served you dinner. I don’t mind the extra time; Mr. Marchesi pays me very well.”
“That’s good to hear. What’s for dinner? It smells amazing.”
“Pasta à la vodka with chicken.”
“Oh, that sounds delightful.”
“I hope you’ll enjoy it. There’s also a salad, garlic bread, and a chocolate cake for dessert.”
“Will I be eating like this every night while I’m here?”
“I cook on the days that I’m here and make sure there’s plenty of leftovers or dishes that can be reheated when I’m not.”
At least I didn’t have to worry about going hungry during my stay.
4
DOM
Iwatched Corey walk out the door after my speech about rules. I knew I was being an ass. I could only imagine what my sons would say if they’d witnessed the exchange. They’d remind me Corey was scared and alone and that he needed someone to take care of him.
I could save his life, and I could make sure Lisa could never hurt him, but I couldn’t be anything else for him. I wasn’t capable of that.
Are you sure?
I refused to consider that question. I wouldn’t open myself up to anyone. The only way I could survive now was to be the man I’d become.
It didn’t matter that, somewhere in the tiny part of my heart that wasn’t solid stone, I wanted to be someone who could console another person, but I didn’t know how to do that with Corey any more than I’d known how with my sons when I’d first invited them to live here.