Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
“A new bag,” Lucian stated the obvious. “You can finally get rid of that ratty old thing you take everywhere.”
She appreciated the practicality of the gift. When the time came, a new bag would come in handy. She tried not to overanalyze the fact that Lucian had just given her a gift that would only be used if they separated.
“Thank you.”
“Here, do this one next.” He seemed to enjoy giving the gifts as much as a little kid opening them.
The next was a gorgeous sweater, after that, a pair of sapphire earrings. She didn’t mention that her ears weren’t pierced. They were as lovely in their velvet box as they would be on her lobes.
The morning continued in the same pattern. She’d open a gift, thank Lucian, and then she’d find another in her lap. She simply couldn’t comprehend such generosity and indulgence. The pile never seemed to end. She’d been given clothes, gowns, shoes, jewelry, an iPad, perfume, expensive soaps and lotions, a robe, and more. It became so overwhelming, she lost track.
She peeled back the paper of a heavy box and lifted the lid. Books. Her smile trembled nervously and Lucian said, “It’s Henry David Thoreau. Walden is by far one of the most eloquently written pieces of literature I’ve ever read. I think you’ll like it.”
It was simply too much. Her eyes stung and she blinked. “Oh, Lucian . . .”
“What’s the matter? Have you read it?”
Emotion choked her. She worked to make her voice audible. “No,” she whispered. “I’ve never read it.”
He pulled it from her lap and placed a thinly wrapped package in her lap. “Open this one.”
Her fingers trembled. She didn’t want to open any more presents. As the corner tore and the pretty paper was spoiled, she stopped. She just couldn’t do anymore.
“Evelyn?”
Lifting her brow, she looked at Lucian apologetically. “Can we stop for a while?”
She saw his confusion, but he nodded. “Okay, baby. How about I make us some breakfast?” She nodded, needing to get away from all the gifts for a while.
Lucian made French toast for breakfast. It was delicious. She loved watching him cook. He seemed so relaxed, so ordinary. She found herself wishing he were.
“What time will your sisters get here?”
He glanced at the clock. “Probably sometime in the next two hours.”
A nervous tickle danced across her chest. “Should we be cooking something?”
“The turkey’s been in the oven since five. Isadora will bring the sides, and Antoinette will bring the desserts. I provide the booze, and Lucy dressed the formal dining room before she left.”
“What should I wear?”
“Wear whatever you’re comfortable in. It’s just family.”
Yes, but not her family. Evelyn thought about Pearl and wondered how she was enjoying her holiday. So much time had gone by since she spoke to her. She’d never been away from her mother for more than a few days. “Lucian, can I call my mom?”
He stilled as if he hadn’t considered Pearl. “Of course. I’m sorry, Evelyn. I should’ve let you do that first thing. If you want, we can go see her before my sisters arrive.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think I’m up for that. I just want to call and wish her a merry Christmas.”
He handed her a phone and a business card with a number hand written on the back. He busied himself with the dishes as she made the call. Pearl sounded . . . anxious.
She was very curious about how long she’d stay at rehab and when Evelyn was coming to visit. Evelyn promised they’d come in the next couple of days, and in a paranoid whisper Pearl asked if she could come alone. She figured that would be okay, so she said yes. Her mother admitted she was very tired and they ended the call.
That was the first time she had ever talked to her mother on a phone. It was impersonal and distant. Evelyn didn’t like not being able to see her face. She thought hearing her voice would help her awkward mood, but it didn’t. She felt . . . lost.
Everything was unfamiliar. Even Lucian wasn’t being his usual self. He was doing dishes for Christ’s sake! She excused herself to go take a shower, thinking that might help.
After her shower she selected a burgundy sweater dress paired with black tights and spiked black leather boots that went to the knee. She wore her hair down, not because Lucian preferred it that way, but because it acted as a shield. With every minute that ticked by she grew more and more nervous.
Lucian entered the room and eyed her curiously. She had been sitting on the edge of the bed staring at nothing for the past twenty minutes.
“Evelyn?”
“Hey.”
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. The best way I can explain it is . . . I feel . . . homesick. I know that doesn’t make sense because I don’t have a home, but that’s the best way I can put it.”