Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
The absurdity of the situation draws a slightly hysterical chuckle for my lips. “Yeah. Of course.” It takes me a second to figure out which pair of pants is his, and then I hand them over.
Within a few minutes, the three of us are walking up the path to the front door. Charon unlocks it and stands aside so we can precede him into the town house. I don’t know what I expected to find inside, but once Eurydice flips on the light with the familiarity of someone who’s been here before, it reveals a surprisingly charming home.
Dark tile floors are softened by a thick rug that pulls the whole living room together. Dark leather couches, sturdy end tables that look like they’re made out of driftwood, and a large fireplace round out the room. A huge TV hangs over the fireplace, and I recognize several different game consoles on the mantel, but I didn’t expect the art that hangs on the wall.
Without thinking, I drift toward the pair of paintings. They are paintings—not prints. If I had stopped to think on what kind of art a man like Charon might have in his house, my first thought would’ve been that he wouldn’t have art at all. My second thought would be that if he did have art, it would be some kind of cheesy hypermasculine nonsense. Not this.
They’re landscapes.
The artist obviously intended them to be a matching set. While they are positioned differently, they both show the same gorgeous, moody forest. The longer I stare, the more details I pick up. The mushrooms growing out of the side of a tree trunk. The flowers tucked in the shadow of a boulder. A bird sitting protectively in its nest.
I could stare at these paintings for hours.
Unfortunately, that’s not what I’m here for. I may have forgotten for a moment, but then Charon breaks the silence. “I’ll ask you again, Orpheus. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“You invited me.” I speak absently, a good portion of my attention still on the painting in front of me.
“I sure as fuck didn’t.”
“Charon?” The tone in Eurydice’s voice brings us both up short. She looks back and forth between us, an expression flaring in her dark eyes that I’ve never seen before. Fury. “What is he talking about? You invited him here?”
7
EURYDICE
It only takes one look at Charon’s face to know the truth. “You did invite him here.” I can’t help the betrayal that seeps into my tone. We may have talked about this last night, and I may have admitted that I have some unresolved baggage when it comes to Orpheus, but for Charon to go over my head and invite him to the lower city…
He had no right to do that.
He had no right.
Orpheus turns to face us. I still haven’t quite processed that he’s here, let alone that he looks so different. His hair has grown out a lot in the last year, now hanging to his shoulders. He’s not dressed in his usual perfect style, his simple T-shirt and faded jeans the kind of thing he never would have been caught dead wearing in public. He also seems…tired. Worn down. I can’t quite put my finger on why, but it’s there all the same.
He caught me having sex with Charon.
I flush and then mentally curse myself for flushing. I have nothing to apologize for, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s beyond an embarrassing situation to be caught by your ex-boyfriend having sex with… I’m not even sure what Charon is to me at this point. We haven’t talked about labels. Does agreeing to give this a shot mean we’re dating? Are we friends with benefits? The latter doesn’t feel right, but I’m still aching from the feel of his cock and his hands on my body. I haven’t had a chance to deal with any of it.
First Orpheus. Then Charon.
Except it’s not that easy. Charon is the reason Orpheus is here, and he doesn’t look the least apologetic about it.
I rub my face. I’m sticky and achy and mostly naked. This is not the way I want to have whatever conversation this is, but asking Charon to go get my clothes out of his car will leave me alone with Orpheus, and… Actually, that’s a good idea. “I would like my clothes.”
Charon narrows his eyes. “You’re trying to get rid of me.”
My patience is nonexistent right now. I glare. “Or quite possibly, I don’t want to have a serious conversation with my ex while wearing your shirt with you dripping down my thighs.”
Orpheus clears his throat and turns back to the paintings on the wall. A year ago, he would have launched into a fight without hesitation over something like this. I don’t know what it means that he’s so subdued. I don’t like it, even if I’m marginally grateful for it.