Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
His hands on my chest, his mouth on my mouth, his heat surrounding me? His body half-submerged on a piano, working on a hidden safe, trying to steal something from the fucking Sarkissian family themselves…
“Can I have a few minutes to myself?” I say it as calmly as I can. If I show any more weakness, Annie’s going to scream. She’s already impatient as it is.
“Fine, take some time. I’ll help Sam carry the last of your stuff before he freaks out and starts ripping the copper wires from the walls. I swear that boy’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
Annie departs and I’m left alone in my beautiful, empty bedroom.
What do I want from this place? Honestly, if I’m really looking deeply at myself, what do I need? How am I going to survive here, knowing I’m barely more than a token wife?
I can fill my days. It’s not that hard. I’ll get a degree, find a job, or volunteer at a soup kitchen. I doubt Brenden will care. But is that enough? Can I come home to this beautiful house in a wonderful neighborhood and know it’s completely empty?
Even when I fill it with furniture, it’ll never feel done.
Because a home’s not a home without the people in it.
And where’s my damn husband?
I lose track of time standing at the window until there’s a creak behind me. Davit slinks into the room, wringing his hands together. “Hey, Tallie, you good?”
“I’m fine.” I try to smile for him, I really do, but it must look like I’m literally ripping out my own hairs. He grimaces.
“Annie says you’re having a hard time.”
“Did she say that?”
“Her exact words were, Tallie’s being an overly emotional diva and I seriously cannot. Sam, you’re with me, let’s inventory this place. I thought I’d come, you know, check in.”
Warmth floods me. Real, genuine warmth, which is shockingly hard to come by in my family. I have eight siblings but none of them make me feel like I’m seen, heard, or loved all that often, even though I know most of them would die for me. Especially Annie: she’d rip the fucking heart out of anyone who hurt me, and I’d do the same for her.
But that’s not how we are. We’re not huggers. We’re not emotionally available. I learned young and fast that I have to bury it all or else I’ll get the crap kicked out of me, not even by my parents, but from my ice-cold siblings.
Only Davit’s different. I think because he’s the youngest, he’s been protected from the rest of us. Me, Annie, and Sam don’t care if he’s soft, and the others don’t live at home anymore, so they can’t do much to change him at this point. Mom and Dad are checked out and haven’t been interested in child rearing since probably Mariam was born about six kids ago. So Davit slipped through the cracks.
I wipe tears from my eyes. “You know what’s sick? I don’t want to be married to him, but I really wish he were here.”
“Oh Tallie, I’m so sorry.” He comes closer and gives me a tight hug. “I don’t think he’s a bad person. Does that help at all?”
“Not really. Wouldn’t a good person be here? When his wife is moving in? He knows, but he just doesn’t care.”
“Would you be here? In his place? It’s complicated, the two of you, and this house is clearly…”
“It’s nothing. It’s a shell.”
“I guess, or maybe it’s a new beginning. It’s a blank slate. You can do whatever you want here, right? In ways you never could back home. Maybe you can see it that way?”
I hug Davit tighter and let him go. “Yeah, maybe I can.”
He looks out the window and guilt surfaces again, my most cherished of all emotions. I shouldn’t dump this on him. Davit’s empathetic, he can’t even help himself, and if I take advantage my emotions will overwhelm him, the poor guy. I have to gather my shit together, at least until later. I can cry myself to sleep in my empty house when the sun goes down and my siblings abandon me.
“It won’t feel the same without you.” He doesn’t look at me as he says it, but his shoulders are slumped.
“I know. I hate this.”
“But it’s good. You’ll be here… away from back there…” He trails his fingers down the glass. “Annie’s jealous.”
“I bet she is. She nearly lost her mind over the tiles.”
“No, Annie’s jealous of the freedom you have right now. She wants it too badly it kills her.”
I look back toward the steps. Her voice echoes from downstairs, that unmistakable bossy tone, probably telling Sam to go fix something only loosely out of order.
Is Davit right? Annie feels jealous? It’s hard to imagine. She’s always been the perfect one, the pretty twin, the blessed sister. And now somehow, I have something she wants?