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)
“She was lovely,” Jonathan replied, a flash of pain in his eyes before he snuffed it out. “A pleasure to meet you.” He looked back to me. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Thank you again for arranging everything. Like I said, Mam would’ve loved it.”
He left, joining the auburn-haired woman who’d accompanied him to the funeral. I felt an odd tension in my chest saying goodbye to him, but maybe that was just because of the lie I’d told. I hated being dishonest, but sometimes, it was necessary to maintain my dignity.
“Well, he looks like he isn’t short of a few bob,” Mam commented, her gaze eating Jonathan up where he stood next to his auburn-haired companion farther down the bar.
I shot her a disgruntled glance. Mam was single, and she tended to go for men with money. The apartment she currently lived in just outside of Barcelona was courtesy of the divorce settlement from her second husband. And though she was getting on in years, she was very well preserved for her age. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she could catch Jonathan’s eye, but something about him said he was the type who solely dated twenty-five-year-old models.
Or maybe I was just being cynical.
“What? Don’t tell me you’ve got your eye on him,” she exclaimed, and I shook my head.
“Of course, I don’t. You might seem to recall my dad just died. I’m not exactly on the lookout for a man right now.”
“I suppose,” Mam allowed. “Well, he’s not really your type anyway, is he?”
“I wasn’t aware I had a type.”
“Oh, you do. You like boring, unremarkable men, like that Cathal. My God, he could put a woman to sleep with the dreary talk out of him. You’re much better off without that wet blanket.”
“Cathal wasn’t—” I started to argue then stopped myself. There was no point wasting time defending the man who’d left me for a younger woman.
“See?” she smiled, pleased with herself. “You can’t deny it because you know I’m right. Now, Leonora’s son, on the other hand, there’s a man who’d have you losing sleep.”
“Good God, Mam, please stop,” I said just as Frances came to join us.
“Well, what did he want?”
“He was offering to let her stay on in his mother’s house, but Ada’s already found a new place, haven’t you, hon?”
Frances’ face transformed into a smile. “Really? That’s great. I was going to say you could stay with us for a couple weeks, but this works out so much better with the girls and all. It’s going to take a while for them to get their heads around losing their granddad. I imagine there’ll be lots of tears, and you definitely don’t want to be stuck in our house when the triplets are throwing tantrums.”
My gut sank, and at that moment, I knew I should just admit to the lie, but my sister looked so relieved that I’d found a place, and I wanted her to stay relieved. She already had so much on her plate with the kids.
“It was a stroke of luck, for sure.”
“When do you move in? And where’s the place? Is it a house or an apartment?”
“Um, next week. It’s an apartment close to work, and I’ll be sharing with two others, so it’s within my budget,” I replied, digging a deeper hole for myself. A shared house or apartment was the ideal situation for me because I needed something cheap, but I also hated living alone. My preference was to live with family, of course, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Amazing, well, let me know if you need any help moving in. Glen and I would be happy to—”
“That’s very kind, but I should be able to manage it on my own. I can fit most of my stuff in my car, and I can do two runs if needed.”
“Well, if you change your mind, just say the word. Ah, you have no idea how happy I am. I was so worried about you.”
Frances gave me a hug while my mam called on one of the bartenders to order us some drinks. I stepped up beside her and lowered onto a stool, only becoming aware of Jonathan Oaks’ attention after a glass of wine was set down in front of me.
He stood several feet down the bar, far enough away I couldn’t hear what his companion said as she spoke softly at his side. Oddly, he seemed distracted, not really listening to her. His attention was focused on me. There was something rigid in the way he stood, a certain tension in his shoulders, his knuckles white as he clutched a glass of what looked like whiskey. For several prolonged moments, I was transfixed, unable to look away. His stare held me captive, and a small shiver tiptoed across the back of my neck. His unwavering gaze somehow heated me from the inside out as I finally found the wherewithal to lift my wine and take a sip. The alcohol heated me up even more, and I found myself tugging at the collar of my dress.