Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Fine,” I say, getting up. “Let’s go to the beach.”
“Great,” he mumbles, letting me lead the way.
We walk silently through the house, down the stairs, and onto the back patio. A loggia connects the house to a small building at the edge of the property. It sits beside a gate that opens to the sand.
The grounds behind the house are a storybook. Perfectly manicured landscaping, tiled walkways, and a fountain in the center of the yard create a relaxed atmosphere. Vines trail up the side of the buildings, and flowers bloom in a multitude of colors from the bushes dotting the space.
It’s breathtaking.
We slip off our shoes at the gate. Troy pops a code into a keypad and then swings it open.
“Can you imagine living like this?” I ask, taking in our surroundings. I glance up and catch him watching me.
“Yeah. I can.”
I’m not sure what he means—not with how he looks at me. So I tuck my chin and step onto the beach.
“Look at that sunset,” I say as the sky transforms into a glorious array of colors. “My mom loved a pretty sunset.”
“What was she like?”
“She was amazing. She was my best friend.”
I smile as I think about her. It’s almost strange to discuss her with Troy. Despite the attraction, we’ve always kept things fairly impersonal—platonic. We don’t press too deeply into each other’s lives and keep things superficial. But the question feels genuine, and surprisingly, sharing something so personal, so special to me, feels natural.
“I think about her every day. Some days are harder than others,” I say, watching the sand squish between my toes. “She was a mother in every way—loving, protective, selfless. There was not a food she couldn’t prepare, and she could turn a loaf of bread and a package of cheese into a meal fit for a king.” I laugh. “She worked her ass off, working two jobs most of the time. But she didn’t miss any of my sporting events or teacher conferences. And she didn’t complain. She was proud … maybe too proud.”
Our feet sink into the wet sand as we walk along the water’s edge. A peacefulness settles over me, soothing the raw edges of my nerves.
“How long were she and your dad together?” he asks.
“Not long.” I gaze up at Troy. “My mother was working in a tailor’s shop, and my dad brought a jacket to be hemmed. He says he fell in love with her at first sight. Her letter said he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.”
“Her letter?”
“Yeah.” I kick a glob of sand, watching it land with a splat a few yards down the beach. “I never knew I had a father. She would say that my father loved me very much but had to go. She’d get emotional about it when I brought it up, so I didn’t. I assumed he’d died.”
Troy shoves his hands in his pockets. “How did you find out about him?”
“Well, it turns out that they were in contact all of my life.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “My dad’s dad, so my grandfather, founded Dallo Metalworks. Apparently, he wasn’t quite an upstanding citizen or a nice guy. When my mom found out she was pregnant, they panicked. Neither of them wanted me raised with anything to do with my grandfather. My dad said we still wouldn't be safe, even if he left with my mother and moved to the other side of the world.”
“Your granddad was that bad?”
“That’s what they say.”
“So what happened? Your dad just walked away from you and your mom?”
I consider the question. It’s not that easy.
“Kind of, I guess,” I say. “Mom didn’t want to abort me or put me up for adoption. And my dad didn’t want her to do that either. So the only way they could guarantee that I wasn’t in danger from one of my grandfather’s schemes was for him to never know I existed. For anyone to know I existed.”
His forehead pulls together. “So why did your dad come into your life now? If it’s so dangerous, and it still is because we’re here, why did he change course after all these years?”
“My grandfather died. I think I was thirteen or fourteen. My father inherited the company. It took him a few years to clean it up and make it more … legitimate, I guess. By the time he was ready to figure out how to come into my life, my mom got sick.”
“You’d think that was the perfect time to come into your life. He could’ve helped you cope.”
“Maybe. Or he might have just inserted himself at a time when I needed to make as many memories with her as I could because her illness was terminal. Depends on how you look at it.”
He nods his head, shuffling his feet through the water.