Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
I sighed. Maybe this whole thing was for the best. I didn’t want to lose him, either. There was no one else on Earth who understood the loss we’d both endured. I needed to grow up about this and be happy one of us was being mature.
“I can respect that. And I’ll try not to take it personally.”
“Can you? Because you constantly checking to make sure I’m not home sucks. I feel like if I hadn’t come home early tonight, I might not have seen you for another week.”
“If you’re barely home, how could you be so sure I was avoiding you?”
“There are cameras all over the house. Do you know how many times they’ve alerted me that someone was in the garage? And then I’d check it to find you peeking at the bay where I park.”
“Shit.” I closed my eyes briefly and had to laugh at myself. “I’m sorry if I’ve made things uncomfortable.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way unless we make it so.”
“I don’t want to avoid you anymore,” I muttered.
“Good, because I miss running into you.”
“And I miss my tea in the kitchen.”
“Ouch.” He laughed. “You’ve been avoiding the kitchen because of me?”
“Somewhat. I’m excited to make my triumphant return.” I sighed. “I’m glad you found me in here tonight. The hiding did need to end.”
“Were you looking for another hiding place or going through your aunt’s things?”
“Finally garnered the courage to look through her stuff. I decided I’m just gonna donate it all.”
“There’s nothing you want to keep?”
“I don’t need any of it.”
“I think you should keep at least one thing. You might regret it if you don’t.”
“Are you keeping anything of your father’s?”
“Well, he’s left me an entire mess of a company. So I don’t feel like I need a Brooks Brothers shirt…or a set of cufflinks.” He stood and flipped through his dad’s clothes. “But I probably will keep a couple of things that remind me of him specifically. I’d been putting off coming in here, too. If I hadn’t noticed the light on in the room and the door slightly open, it might’ve been months before I ventured into this closet.”
I looked down at a pair of leather boots. “It’s eerie being among their things, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Absolutely.”
“It makes you feel like they’re coming back,” I whispered.
Dorian ran his hand along his dad’s shirts. “I think I’m gonna follow your lead. Spare myself the misery of having to go through it all piece by piece.” He turned to me. “We should donate it all this week. I’ll have Benjamin hire someone to come in and take everything.” He paused. “And then I think you should use this space as an art room. Move into the main bedroom. That way you can have all your stuff in one area of the house.”
My eyes widened. “What?” Jesus. Was this the consolation prize for being turned down?
“The shelves in here can easily house your supplies, and it’ll be a better use for the space.”
Guilt washed over me as I looked at the shelves that currently held my aunt’s large shoe collection, unable to imagine canisters of paint and brushes replacing them. But it was hard to turn down the offer. The lighting in here was superb, and I could really use a space of my own to work.
“Are you serious?”
He nodded. “This is the best bedroom in the house. It shouldn’t go to waste. Unless you’re not comfortable sleeping where they did. I’d understand that, too. I’ll have Benjamin order you all new linens.”
“That’s generous of you, but it’s not necessary. The linens are beautiful.”
“Nothing else will become of this space if you don’t want it.”
I didn’t have to think too hard. “Okay, then I’m gonna take you up on that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Dorian took one of Remington’s shirts off the rack and stared down at it for a moment.
My emotions got the best of me as I blurted, “I hope they’re in a better place.”
He looked up at me. “Me, too.”
“I guess we’re the ones left to feel the pain, huh?”
“I haven’t let myself feel much of anything.” Dorian smiled sadly as he looked down at the shirt again. “I gave him this for Christmas years back. I’m surprised he still had it. I remember being all proud that I’d picked it out because I knew it was his taste. When Dad opened the box, I remember him telling me what he really wanted for Christmas was for me to get a four-point-oh.” Dorian shook his head. “I had a three-point-fucking-nine.”
“He was really a perfectionist, huh?”
“A brilliant man and a perfectionist when it came to himself or anything he considered an extension of himself, yeah.” He shook his head. “It was like he looked at me and saw all of his own imperfections amplified.”