Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“You’re not inferior. If Leonora hadn’t been taken so soon, I’m sure you would’ve mended your relationship. Time was cruelly snatched away from you by a freak accident. That’s all. You would’ve forgiven her, too, just like I forgave Dad. Perhaps even sooner than I did because, remember, I hadn’t spoken to my dad in almost twenty years. That’s twice as long as you and Leonora were apart.”
Jonathan held my gaze, his blue eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve fucking missed you,” he breathed.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I whispered, and he lifted our hands to press his lips to the inside of my wrist. “Forgive me?”
I nodded, swallowing down the lump in my throat. Hearing Jonathan’s reasons for staying away, the small glimpse he’d given into his life growing up, I couldn’t stay mad at him. I understood how he’d felt after I told him about my accident because hearing how Leonora believed her shitty boyfriends time and again over her own son had me angry at her just like Jonathan was angry at Dad. There was a time when I couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d want to cut a woman as lovely as his mother from his life. But now I could. She might’ve been a wonderful woman in many ways, but Leonora was flawed, just like my dad. She hadn’t been a perfect parent, and Jonathan had suffered because of her choices.
I thought of the younger versions of him. Jonathan as a little boy, a teenager, a young man, just wishing for his mother not to bring more men into their lives who would upturn everything. He just wanted to feel safe, but he hadn’t been afforded that privilege.
Tears threatened to fall, and not wanting to look like a blubbering mess in front of Jonathan, I stood from my seat, my hands falling from his hold. “Can I use the bathroom?”
His fingers lightly touched my elbows. “Of course. Will you stay for dinner?”
“Yes, I’d love to.”
Before I could step away, he pulled me into his arms, holding me close before his lips found mine. It was a whisper of a kiss, a little I’m sorry that I appreciated. I kissed him back gently then withdrew.
Heading towards the bathroom, I passed by my old bedroom and paused, seeing the unmade bed and Jonathan’s suitcase by the door. Had he been sleeping in my room? Curiosity got the better of me as I stepped inside and found a bunch of his things strewn about. On the desk were two laptops, alongside a stack of files and other papers. He’d obviously been working from home the last few days and had created a makeshift office in my old bedroom. The fact that he’d chosen to sleep where I used to sleep had all the love I felt for him rushing forth, filling me up like I might burst.
Then my eyes caught on something typed out on one of the papers, several key phrases standing out, the main ones being “Pinebrook Lodge,” “Acquisition” and “Sale agreement.”
What on earth?
My mind raced until I came to only one conclusion that made sense.
Jonathan was the angel investor who wanted to purchase Pinebrook.
25.
Jonathan
While Ada was in the bathroom, I berated myself for my behaviour over the past days. It was unforgivable to give her even a single impression that I didn’t want to be with her, but I’d just had too much emotional baggage to work through, and I refused to put any of that baggage on her.
I’d been having trouble speaking of Mam during grief counselling, but Brianna had suggested immersion therapy, where I placed myself safely within a space surrounded by reminders of her until I was fully relaxed and no longer tensed up at the tiniest memory of my mother. I’d resisted the idea at first, but then after getting back from Cork, I found myself drawn to Mam’s house almost unconsciously. I didn’t even realise I was immersing myself until I was going to all the places she used to go, shopping in the same shops.
Then it dawned on me that I was doing exactly as Brianna had suggested. And it was working. Today’s big step involved cooking Mam’s spaghetti recipe from scratch, and unlike the last time when Ada had cooked it and grief had overwhelmed me, today felt different. Perhaps it was the act of going out and buying the ingredients myself that caused the change. It felt meditative and purposeful rather than unexpected and stressful.
I started preparing the sauce when Ada returned, and she looked oddly pale. Discombobulated almost. She held her phone in her hand, and her expression was apologetic.
“Um, I’m sorry, but I have to go. They need me at work.”
My heart sank. I didn’t want her to go. Not yet. Maybe never. “Will you come back later?”