Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“You need to rest,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.
Her eyelids flutter, but she doesn’t open them. I don’t move, afraid to disturb her as I cradle her like a child. My mind races with every mistake I’ve made, every moment I’ve hurt her, and the weight of my shame feels like it might crush me. The memory of every cutting word, every instance when I pushed her away, crashes down on me now.
And all for what?
To protect my pride?
To convince myself that I can live without her?
But I can’t. I never could. Even if she doesn’t love me, even if she only stays with me because she needs the security my money can provide, she’s still mine. My gold digger, my everything. I’ve always known it, deep down, but it took seeing her like this—so breakable, so close to slipping away—to admit it to myself.
Without her, nothing else matters.
The door creaks open, and Nora comes in, balancing a tray of food. She glances at me, her expression softening when she sees the way Raven is curled against me.
“The poor mite needs to eat,” she says gently, setting the tray down on the bedside table.
I nod, shifting Raven slightly so she’s propped up against the pillows. “Raven,” I murmur, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “Wake up. You need to eat something.”
Her eyes flutter open, glassy and unfocused, and she groans softly. “I’m not hungry,” she mumbles.
“You have to try,” I insist, lifting the bowl of soup from the tray. Nora hands me a spoon, and I hold it to Raven’s lips. She resists at first, turning her face away, but eventually, she relents and takes a small, reluctant amount.
“Good,” I say softly, offering her another spoonful. “Just a little more.”
When the bowl is half-empty, she leans back against the pillows, her eyes closing again. I set the tray aside and press a kiss to her forehead. “Rest now,” I whisper.
The hours blur together as I stay by her side. The light shifts outside, moving from dim gray to full dark, and from full dark to dim gray back to light, but I don’t move. When Nora brings fresh clothes, I help Raven to the bathroom, supporting her trembling frame as she shuffles across the room. She’s too weak to bathe herself, so I fill the tub and gently guide her in. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment as I roll up my sleeves and kneel beside the tub, but she doesn’t protest.
“Just relax,” I tell her, dipping a soft sponge into the soapy water. I run it over her arms and shoulders, careful not to press too hard. Her tension eases gradually, her head leaning back against the edge of the tub as I work. When I move to wash her hair, she closes her eyes, letting me massage the shampoo into her scalp.
“You’re doing great,” I say softly, rinsing the suds away.
She doesn’t respond, but the corners of her lips twitch, almost a smile. It’s a small victory, but it’s enough to keep me going.
When the bath is over, I wrap her in a warm towel, dry her off, dress her and use the hairdryer on her hair. Meanwhile, Nora has already had the maids to change the sheets and air the room while she was in the bath. The heat is turned up too. Raven looks a little less pale, a little less fragile.
She sits at the small table in the corner, and I hand her the dose of medicine the doctor prescribed.
“Here you go,” I say, watching as she swallows it with a grimace.
Nora sends food, enough for both of us. Raven glances at me, her brow furrowed. “What about you?” she asks quietly.
“I’ll eat later,” I say, but she shakes her head.
“No,” she says firmly. “Eat now. Nora has clearly made for both of us. See two plates and two sets of cutlery.”
We eat together quietly. It’s a truce. A pleasant state of affairs. Tender, even. The occasional clink of utensils fills the room, a comforting rhythm against the backdrop of her recovery.
Nora returns a few minutes later with some kind of gooey-in-the-middle dessert. Not really my thing, but Raven seems to enjoy it. As she eats, I watch her hungrily. She seems thinner. But there is definitely more color in her cheeks.
“How’s the project?” she asks suddenly, her voice still weak but curious. “The mall renovation one you’re working on.”
I hesitate. I don’t usually talk about my work, but the way she’s looking at me—earnest and attentive—makes me relent. “It’s going well,” I say casually. “We’re ahead of schedule, and I’m happy with the progress so far.”
She nods, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “That’s good,” she murmurs, her eyes growing heavy. “I’d never have thought you’d be involved in real estate and construction and making this little town a better place, but it suits you.”