Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Wiggling in his hold for the first time, I agree. “Yes. Now put me down.”
He places me on my feet by the kitchen island and looks around the space as if it’s the first time he’s seen it.
“I bet it feels good to be home,” I say.
“It feels odd.”
“For me too,” I admit. “I only came home to shower and change clothes, and then I went straight back to the hospital.” I look around the kitchen like he is doing. “Funny what a few days away can do.”
He turns to me and arches an eyebrow. “You stayed at the hospital the entire time?”
“Yes.” Regardless of how our marriage is, the thought of losing him was— “I’m still your wife.”
“Right. You are still my wife.” He pauses. Studies my face. Then adds, “Thank you. For being with me at the hospital.”
Apollo has never thanked me for anything before, and the foreign words feel…nice.
“The doctor said you may have some headaches, possible memory loss, heightened emotions, and maybe even some depression.”
He tilts his chin and then nods. “Things are a little foggy. I don’t really remember the accident. I don’t remember a lot. Maybe I blocked it out for a reason.”
I wonder what were the thoughts he had while crashing to the sea. Did he think he’d die and never see the inside of the house again? Did he think his life was over and everything flashed before his eyes? Was I in his last-minute visions? Did he see me at all?
He runs his fingers along the white marble countertop. “My brother never came to the house. He never was inside.” Though Apollo is speaking the words, it doesn’t feel as if he’s saying them to me.
“You both spent your time at Medusa or Olympus Manor,” I say, not sure why I’m even speaking. He knows this, so why I feel the need to say it is just…odd. I feel so awkward and out of place that my mouth just moves without me thinking it through. I walk to the refrigerator. “Do you want something to eat?”
He’s still glancing around the room, examining.
“I let the housekeeper have some days off since we were both in the hospital. I didn’t see the point for her to keep coming.” I’m nervous now that he’s maybe seeing dust and finding the condition of the house unsatisfactory. “I’ll have her come first thing tomorrow morning.” I open the refrigerator and see that it’s mostly empty. I now feel as if I’m a complete failure as a wife. This isn’t the homecoming I was hoping to give him.
“I’m not hungry,” he says, throwing me a lifeline.
“I’ll try to get to the store after the funeral tomorrow. If there is anything you want—”
“The funeral is tomorrow? My brother’s?”
“I thought your father told you.” Apollo’s stiffening and the widening of his eyes tell me how wrong I am in thinking that. “Troy didn’t want to have the funeral until you were out of the hospital. He wanted you to be there.”
I shift from one foot to the other, waiting for him to say something. Anything. I feel as if I just revealed some secret I wasn’t supposed to.
“Athena handled all the arrangements,” I continue. I can’t stand the silence in the room and decide to fill it with chatter. “All we have to do is arrive. And if it becomes too much for you, or you don’t want to go—”
“Of course I want to go,” he says a little too quickly and harshly. He takes a seat at the counter, pauses for several moments, and then adds, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”
“I can only imagine what you’re going through.” I want to reach out and take his hand to offer comfort, but I’m not sure how he’ll take the unfamiliar act. It’s what a wife would do, but Apollo and I aren’t exactly the normal definition of wedded bliss. “It’s late. Maybe we should get some sleep. The doctor said you need to take it easy.”
Leaning on his elbows, he locks his eyes with mine. “Do I need to carry you up the stairs too?” He smiles, letting me know his comment is in jest. “No more talk of what the doctor said. I’m fine. I need you to believe that.”
“Got it,” I say, rolling my eyes. “The mighty Apollo has spoken,” I tease. I head toward the stairs, with him following behind. “You may not need sleep, but I do. My body is stiff from all the nights in that chair beside your bed.”
When we reach the landing upstairs, I turn to head to the primary bedroom, surprised when Apollo follows me and doesn’t head to the guest room where he’s been sleeping for the past months. “Is there something you need in the room?” I ask, stopping and turning to face him.