Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
It’s because of that kiss.
Which is absolutely the worst reason.
Still, no matter what, I will not let myself care about Fiona. No matter how attractive I find her, she’s too young, too unserious, too much of a total mess. I’ve learned the hard way too many times to let myself open up and start to give a shit about another person.
But I do want her.
And I am willing to make very stupid decisions to keep her around.
Chapter 10
Fiona
The motel complex where the fire victims are staying isn’t far from the burned husk of the apartment building. I can still smell charred wood and melted plastic in the air as I stroll toward the courtyard.
I called Eduardo an hour ago. He said he’d meet me here—he had business with some of his former tenants already. I wanted to get it over with right away, but I figured this was something better done in person, so I agreed. But now that I’m here, I wish I hadn’t come at all.
It reminds me too much of what I lost. And what all these people lost too.
Kids run around on a pathetically small grassy patch. A few adults watch them. Dejected and tired-looking people. My kind of folks. I smile and wave to an older woman I recognize from the building. She waves back. Her kids fall to the ground, a girl and a boy, wrestling in the dirt. She doesn’t bother telling them to stop. The slump of her shoulders, the faraway stare, these people are in shock, still mourning the loss of all their belongings. Their entire lives, incinerated. They’re hurting.
They’re like me.
I can only imagine the hell this must be for families. It’s bad enough for me, but I’m a young, single woman—I’m not a married mother of two with kids to worry about. My obligations begin and end with me. I don’t have to think about buying new diapers, new clothes, new everything for an entire family. Not to mention the trauma those poor kiddos went through.
Breaks my damn heart, seeing these families like this. Puts my own pain into perspective.
“Fiona, there you are.” Eduardo comes striding over. He was talking with a group of older men at the far end of the courtyard. His smile is big, but guarded. I meet him halfway and shake his hand.
“How are you?” I ask. “How is everyone here?”
“Holding it together.” His smile fades. “How are you?”
I grimace slightly. Poor Eduardo saw me at my most emotional. Well, at my most sober emotional. I vaguely recall sobbing over the toilet last night after a second bottle of champagne. My head throbs, but the memory is a merciful blur.
“I’m fine. Working some things out.” I try to give him a smile, but it feels wrong here.
“Wonderful, wonderful. Look, what did you want to discuss? I don’t mean to rush you, but I have to go speak with the fire marshal in a few minutes.”
“It’s, uh, sort of delicate.” I hesitate, not sure how to broach this. Turns out, I’ve never bribed someone before. My palms sweat and nervous energy whirls around my guts. “I need a favor.”
“If it’s something I can do, I’d be happy to help. Do you need a recommendation for somewhere else to live or something like that?”
“No, it’s, uh, actually—” I clear my throat. How am I supposed to do this? Do people just blurt these sorts of things out? I wish I were smooth, but unfortunately, I’m an awkward duck most of the time. Especially when trying to bribe someone, apparently. “I need you to tell people that I was living with my husband.”
It comes out in a rush. I beam at him, smiling huge, trying to convey confidence. Like this is totally, completely normal.
He blinks a few times. “You’re… married?”
“I am,” I say, which is technically true. Gareth, that bastard.
“Were you actually living with him, or…?” He tilts his head, confused, and I realize Eduardo didn’t spend much time in the building. He had a manager for that, a younger, friendly guy that was always asking if I needed help with anything. A creeper named Lewis. I’m happy I’m not dealing with him.
I take the wad of cash Gareth gave me and shove it into Eduardo’s hands. He stares at the money, bewildered.
“As far as you know, yes, I was living with a man named Gareth,” I say quickly. “You saw him once or twice. You said hello. You were friendly.”
“I was?” He flips through the roll of twenties, blinking rapidly in shock. “I mean, right, of course I was.” Slowly, his shock turns to a smarmy grin as he shoves the money into his pocket, seamlessly accepting the cash as if that’s a totally normal thing to do.
What the hell is wrong with people?
He should be asking questions, or giving me shit, or at least wondering why the heck I’m bribing him.