Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Ella stood there, still and listening to the tragic tale.
My grip softened on her. “Now, I’m stuck in a mental prison knowing that his last thoughts of me were in anger.” The bridge of my nose tingled and I blinked back tears. “So, don’t, sweet girl.” I left her go and reached out to stroke her hair. “Don’t say things you might never be able to take back. Because the way I live, knowing he was mad at me when he was k…” My lips trembled. I swallowed hard and finished up on a whisper, “It’s torture.”
Ella looked at me and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. We shared a moment. We were just two people who had lost a parent through tragic circumstances. Two people with a shared experience.
A line cast out from my heart and hooked onto hers.
There was a change in the air around us and I think, right then, we each understood each other a little better.
I stepped out of the way and placed a gentle hand to her shoulder. Chaotic tension swarmed both father and daughter, and when Ella made her decision and took off running at her dad, his tall frame was already up and out of his chair. She threw herself at him and his strong arms caught her, just as a father should. Ella’s thin arms curled around his neck and Tor was gentle with her, pressing his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes and rocking her back and forth.
My hand lifted and came to rest over my heart. Relief had me deflating.
All may not have been right in the world, but in this world, in our small bubble, we were working to make tomorrow better than yesterday.
Afterwards, in bed, Tor held me in very much the same way. He couldn’t have possibly known about what happened the day my father died, but nevertheless, he atoned in the only way he knew how. With soft caresses and even softer words whispered at the shell of my ear. And when his lips touched my own in an honest and frank apology, my own parted and pressed into him in acceptance.
Tor watched me closely. He read my face easily and quickly surmised, “You’re sitting on something.”
I was feeling good. Things had been better than… well… ever, in my case. Tor and I had no secrets. Everything was out in the open. We were learning to communicate better, but he was right. I was sitting on something. Something big.
“I am not.” He stared me down across the table in the crowded French restaurant and I rolled my eyes lightly then quietly amended, “It’s nothing.”
God, he looked great tonight. He’d put away his suits and dressed in smart casual for our date night. When he walked down the stairs in gunmetal grey tailored trousers that looked like they’d been painted onto his strong legs, a dove-colored cashmere sweater that hugged his muscled chest and a pair of masculine black boots while fiddling with his watch, my core clenched damn near painfully and I almost choked on my tongue.
My own high-waisted linen pants, plain white blouse and black pumps combo seemed drab in comparison, but when he glanced at me and did a double take, we stood a few feet apart and his heated gaze swept my body appreciatively. And my insides turned to goop.
I couldn’t understand how he had the ability to make me feel so beautiful without a single word spoken.
It was magic.
“Tell me,” Tor commanded as he reached into the ice bucket and topped up my champagne glass.
“Okay,” I sighed in mock annoyance, but I really did want to share. “I picked up Ella from practice. I got there a little early because, as you know, I’m terrified of her.” Tor chuckled softly and I smiled. “It was a minute to and I got out of the car, waiting for her. And when the girls got out, they came out chatting. Ella spotted me and said, ‘That’s me.’” My stomach clenched lightly as I went on, “And one of her friends said, ‘Who’s that?’” I cleared my throat and tried to speak past the thickness of it. “Ella was walking towards me and she called back, ‘That’s my stepmom.’”
Shit. I was about a second out from blubbering.
Across the table, Tor’s face softened.
I laughed then sniffled, then my shoulders bounced in a tiny self-conscious shrug. “That’s all.”
When he smiled at me in the way I always wished he would – warmly, lovingly – my own wobbled and I bit my bottom lip to stop it.
He reached across the table and lifted my glass. I took it from him and he lifted his own, holding it out to me. I felt a little silly as he forced us to celebrate, our glasses touched and gentle clink felt like a victory. I wondered why it was important, but the answer was sitting right there in front of me.