Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“This is fine,” I said, not wanting to ask for too much. Especially since I wasn’t done asking for favors.
“Angel, he’s hungry. I’ve got food,” he said, shaking his head, and making his way back to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, milk, and butter, then starting to gather the cooking supplies.
Eventually, he brought over a cup of milk for Judah to sip, and a cup of coffee for me, silently leaving milk and sugar to add per my preferences, then turning back to make the eggs. And English muffins. And a side of apple slices.
When he brought the plates, yes plates, over to the table, I felt more tears start to flow.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to swat them away.
“You don’t need to apologize. Here, let me help him, so you can eat too,” he offered, reaching for Judah, but waiting for me to hand him over before taking him.
Judah, unaccustomed to men as a whole, looked curiously at him, then reached up to rub at his stubble.
“His name is Judah,” I said as I lifted my light and sweet coffee to my lips. “He’s two and a half.”
“He’s Warren’s?” he asked, Warren’s name having a bite on his lips, and I suddenly wondered if my warning had been pointless, if he had lost some of his men in the deal.
“He’s mine,” I said, chin lifting.
“He has your eyes,” Aurelio said as he raised a fork toward Judah’s mouth.
He was still busy playing with Aurelio’s stubble, but he opened his mouth for the fluffy scrambled eggs.
“Yeah,” I agreed, finding I was suddenly starving myself, and reaching for my own fork, seeing that Judah was clearly in the hands of someone who knew their way around child care.
My heart sank at the idea of a woman in this house, of children between them.
But, no, there was no ring on his finger. There were no signs of kids anywhere.
Not that it should matter to me anyway, I reminded myself.
“What’s your name, angel?” he asked as he handed Judah an apple slice.
“Claire,” I told him, watching as those eyes of his land on me.
“You got yourself free,” he said.
“Yes,” I agreed, nodding. “I guess I can thank whoever shot Warren for that,” I added.
“That would be me,” he said, voice calm.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. “He had a meeting because of it. And… and there was a grocery delivery van… and I just… took Judah and ran.”
“Good for you,” he said as I started to eat. “How far did you walk?” he asked, glancing down at my filthy socks.
Oh, God.
I’d probably tracked dirt all over his lovely floors.
“Oh,” I said, wincing. “I’ll clean the floor,” I said as I noticed some mud tracked on the kitchen floor. Mixed with something else, something kind of red-colored.
“No, you won’t. But you are going to need to let me clean the cuts on your feet.”
The cuts?
Oh.
My gaze went back to the marks on the floor, knowing what the red was. Blood. My blood.
I hadn’t even been aware of them.
Not until right then.
I guess the survival instinct had dulled it for me, but now that I was—for the moment—safe, the pain was a burning and throbbing sensation. Cuts. And maybe blisters.
Still, a small price to pay for freedom.
“I can clean them,” I insisted.
He didn’t argue with that, focusing instead on trying to get Judah to eat some of the buttered English muffin.
“How far was the walk?” he asked again.
“Two and a half hours, the directions said. But I’m not sure how long it took. It could have been half the time or double it. It was just a blur of aching arms and crying, hope and guilt.
A sad look crossed Aurelio’s face, but he didn’t say anything. Which I appreciated. I was a mess enough. Any more kindness from him was going to open the floodgates again.
Eventually, Judah became difficult, prompting Aurelio to start doing the whole airplane trick with the fork.
Somehow, that small, sweet little gesture had my heart squeezing in my chest.
“You’re good with him.”
“There’s a lot of kids in my family,” he said.
Was it just me, or was there something wistful in his voice when he said that? Like maybe he wanted some of his own.
Not, I imagined, to just carry on his ‘empire,’ the way Warren wanted a child, though.
“I can take him,” I insisted as he set Judah down on the floor.
“He’s okay. There’s nothing he can get into. Believe me, if there was, one of my nieces or nephews would have found it and broken it,” he added as Judah moved around the kitchen, tugging at drawers, but finding them locked.
Aurelio stood, but only to move to the doorway into the living room, and pulling some sort of built-in child gate out of the doorway itself. Like a pocket door, but only half of it. Then he walked toward the opening of the dining room and did the same.