Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
We’re not going to share a moment or anything.
“Thank you again.” I rub my clammy hands on my dress. “I’ll reiterate that I hope everything works out for you.” For the love of dancing disco cats, am I even listening to myself?
“For you too. And Peach Lips. I’m glad I got to meet you both, and I hope your life can go back to the way it was, with some slight improvements, for having made my acquaintance and that of the company.”
Shit. Okay, yeah, that payment was pure blood money and guilt. It wasn’t just my life he’d stumbled into and punched holes all over. It was Peach Lips’ life too.
I don’t think Thorn would ever admit it, but like everyone who meets her, he’s changed. He likes Peach Lips. He paid off that debt for her just as much as for me. Probably more for her. And probably because he thought he had to. It would be like me accidentally breaking someone’s tablet and then offering to buy a new one because it’s the right thing to do. You know, give or take a few hundred thousand dollars.
I have absolutely no idea how to deal with this. I’ve never been in this situation. Never. Not where I want to say more and need to say more, but the only thing I can choke out is one watered-down word. “Yes.” What the hell does that even mean?
Before he nods and walks away like he did right after the only chewing out being the sandwiches he found surprisingly delicious incident, I catch the slightest hesitation. A glimmer of indecision. Does he want to say something more? What else is there to say? Even if butterflies amount to anything at all, we don’t belong in each other’s worlds.
Thorn is used to being the tough, silent type, and I’m used to handling my problems on my own and putting a brave face on overtop my aching heart.
The end result is silence.
It lingers in the kitchen, feral and metallic, aching and confusing, long after he’s gone.
Chapter eleven
Thorn
Iknow I should be at the office right now, asleep in that custom-made Murphy bed, but I couldn’t go back. I drove around for a few hours until it was dark, and then I pulled over and checked the cameras at the house. I don’t have one in the guest room where Ephemeral is, but she must be in there because she’s not anywhere else. The house is still. Silent. The way it always is when I’m not there.
Peach Lips undoubtedly sleeps on her bed, so she’s not on any of the cameras either. The cat posts sit empty and unused like they’ll be after Ephemeral goes back to her life. I’ll donate them to an animal rescue. I did my part. I fixed what I broke. It took longer to get this job done than most, and it wasn’t the way I wanted, but client satisfaction matters to me one hundred percent.
I should be happily sleeping, all thoughts of this strange and wild ride of a client put long behind me. Fuck-ups fixed. Check. Hands washed. Check. Loose ends knotted and tied up as tight as they could ever be. Check.
That’s all Ephemeral and Peach Lips should be—clients scratched off the list, another job accomplished. Something broken that ended up turned around. Yes, it cost more money than it should have, but I have lots to spare. You can’t put a price on client safety and satisfaction.
I should be getting Warren on the line immediately and making this merger happen.
I should be doing a lot of things.
But I’m not.
I’m sitting under a large tree in my backyard and watching the waves crash against the small cliffs. Quite violently, I’ll add, because it’s a windy night, but I find the turbulent water soothing. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the house or the neighborhood. It’s the water I enjoy so much.
Forty minutes later, my peace is disturbed by the back door sliding open. It’s quiet, the sound tentative, but my phone buzzes in my pocket, the camera giving me an alert to the movement in my backyard.
I ignore it, my gaze firmly fixed on the apparition across the yard.
She’s wearing an old baggy T-shirt and shorts. With her galaxy hair flowing in the wind and the moonlight painted all over her pale, flawless skin, she’s a wonder. She captivates me entirely. Body, mind, and soul enchantment. What did she call it? Soul telepathy? But I don’t think it’s working because she doesn’t look my way. She walks across the grass, all the way past the pool and the sheds at the side of the sprawling yard, and past bushes and the row of trees, including the one I’m sitting under.
I should say something, but I just…can’t. I stay quiet and still, hardly breathing, watching as she walks to the railing and wraps her hands around it. She looks so small, her hair blowing forlornly in the wind.