Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Not that I would have expected him to lead off with it. This wasn’t the kind of thing you told someone you just met. But he’d chosen to keep me in the dark for days, and weeks, and months, even though we kept growing closer. That was the truly upsetting part. I’d thought we were building something special, but he wasn’t being honest with me.
And yes, I fully understood that we’d agreed to lie to each other about our past, but we’d had very different motives for that. I didn’t want to talk about all the ways I felt like a failure, because it was embarrassing. But in his case, he’d chosen not to tell me about a huge part of his life, and about something that could—and had—very literally put me in danger.
I wouldn’t have done anything differently if I’d known. I still would have wanted to be with him. But he hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me the truth.
14
Armando
Time passed slowly at the mansion. I tried to create structure for myself by setting a schedule, anchored around the three gourmet meals a day that showed up like clockwork in the dining room.
After breakfast each day, I went for a long walk. Since I couldn’t actually go anywhere, I did laps around the outside of the house. The groundskeepers eyed me warily at first, but after a few days of this, they ignored me.
I’d only packed a few clothes for what was supposed to be an overnight trip to San Francisco. One of the shirts I’d brought was the one Vee had given me, with the happy cartoon condom and the slogan, “Don’t be silly, wrap your willy.” I’d brought it to wear to bed as a joke, but I wore it on my walks with pride. Why not? I had zero fucks to give about what any of these people thought of me.
The walks were followed by a shower and laundry. Because I had so little with me, I killed time every day by hand-washing my stuff from the day before in the bathroom sink, and hanging it to dry on the shower rod.
When I’d asked him for some detergent, Fitzpatrick told me the staff would be “more than happy” to do my laundry for me, but I’d declined. I had so little with me that the thought of anything going missing made me anxious.
After the shower and laundry, I spent a few hours in the library. I was reading my way through a very fancy, leather-bound collection of Agatha Christie stories. Each book crackled when I opened it, which made me wonder if I was the only person who’d ever actually used this library.
Lunch was next. That was followed by “rich people recreation.” I tried to pass the time by playing solo billiards or croquet, then doing laps in the pool. I was a mediocre swimmer, so that always turned into floating on my back and staring up at the clear August sky while questioning all my life choices.
Then it was time to take another shower and get ready for dinner, which was always at seven sharp. In the evenings, I watched movies for a few hours before taking a book to bed with me and reading until I passed out.
All in all, I was going totally, completely, and utterly stir-crazy.
I didn’t know how to be idle, not for hours at a time, and definitely not for days on end. At one point, I was so desperate for something to do that I went to the kitchen and tried to beg Mrs. Silva to let me help her cook. She screamed at me in Portuguese, which caused three men with shoulder holsters to come running. I didn’t try that again.
The only variation in my day was when Fitzpatrick made an appearance. I couldn’t figure out where he came from. I was pretty sure he didn’t live in the mansion, but the few times I’d asked the housekeeper to pass along a request (toothpaste when mine ran out, the aforementioned laundry detergent, a stack of puzzles), he’d appeared within minutes.
He also showed up whenever I got a text message. They usually came in at odd hours because of the time difference. If it was during the day, he’d bring my phone right away and type a reply for me. Otherwise, there was a bit of a delay. Apparently he clocked off of his henchman shift at nine p.m. each night.
Not that any of the messages were urgent. Javier checked in with occasional updates. He and Cami were having no problem running the diner in my absence. That was great, obviously, but it was also slightly depressing. It made me feel like the place I’d devoted so much of my life to didn’t actually need me.
Kit checked in too, but he and Devon were busy helping his in-laws, so they were little more than quick hellos. Still though, those texts were the highlight of my week.