Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
I hadn’t made friends in Jupiter, unless you counted the handful of mothers at the park who were nice. But Clara still wasn’t cleared for too much socializing, so I rarely saw them. Clara was my best friend, as pathetic as that was. So when Beau was with her, I felt like a ghost, trying to float around so no one would notice me but also desperate to be seen.
More than a little pathetic.
The knock at the door was a signal of something, or someone, breaking up my day. Probably a delivery person or Beau’s father. Maybe Elliot. We still didn’t get many visitors, especially unannounced. Though after Clara’s birthday party, more people were in contact, and we’d even had a couple of playdates with Nora’s eldest daughter on the warmer days we were able to be outside following correct precautions. Clara loved being around kids, even the younger ones, since she’d been isolated for so long. As winter crept in, I was looking forward to the restrictions on her being lifted further, so we could take Nora, Fiona, and Avery up on their invitations.
Though she’d always been warm and friendly, I did not expect Fiona to be on Beau’s doorstep, smiling at me and rubbing her arms over the top of her jacket
“It is cold as all fuck out here,” she declared, stepping inside.
I let her, because it was cold—though nowhere near as bad as I was preparing for it to be—and because she was nice, and the only other option was barring her from entering.
“I’ve been away from Australia for ages, but my blood still rejects this feral weather.” Fiona shivered, blowing into her cupped hands.
“That makes me nervous since the worst is yet to come,” I told her with a smile.
Even though I didn’t know the purpose of Fiona’s visit—I was reasonably sure that she and Beau were not close friends—I was glad for it. It gave me some respite from the tension simmering in the house, two adults dancing around each other, pretending. Beau was pretending—badly—that he was tolerating my existence. Me pretending—arguably just as badly—that I didn’t hate him, didn’t want him.
It was exhausting, adding to my other stress about Waylon’s credit card charges. I was up late creating a budget, redoing it, trying to figure out if I could go back to school once I finished here, even if I was on the hook for those charges or if I’d have to continue working.
“I’m not here to make you nervous, I’m here to kidnap you.” Fiona smirked.
I stared at her, trying to understand if it was some joke that didn’t transcend cultures. “I don’t think you tell people you’re kidnapping them.” I didn’t know what else to say.
She chuckled. The sound was genuine, warm. “I’ll make note of that for next time.”
“We’ve been meaning to do it for ages, but schedules, children.” Fiona waved her hand dismissively. “You’re coming for drinks.”
“Drinks?” I reared back in surprise, my stomach pitching and somehow also soaring at the invitation, Fiona being there for me.
She nodded. “I’m the unofficial welcoming committee. Well, Calliope was supposed to be, but she’s off somewhere, doing a hostile takeover of a billion-dollar company, making CEOs cry. Whatever it is she does.”
When she rolled her eyes good-naturedly, it was a relief to learn that she didn’t know what Calliope did for a living either. I knew she was extraordinarily wealthy because the handful of times I’d interacted with her, she’d been clad in designer clothing, diamonds everywhere. And I knew it was something badass because… well, you just had to spend a few seconds in her presence to deduce that.
I searched my brain for excuses, knowing that getting any closer to these women was a mistake. I was already going to have trouble leaving Clara, forming friendships would only complicate things.
At her birthday party I’d gotten close to exposing too much about my life. The credit card bill was still at the forefront of my mind. I couldn’t risk blurting something further and establishing myself as some drama queen. Or some victim.
Most of all, I didn’t want anything getting back to Beau.
All this ran through my brain, yet I still couldn’t think of a single excuse, not with Fiona’s expectant gaze firmly on me.
“I’m not really dressed for drinks.” I gestured down to my jeans and cheap sweater.
It was a weak excuse, given that Fiona was standing in front of me in ripped jeans and a cable knit sweater. Granted, the clothing looked a lot more high-quality than mine; she was effortlessly glamorous in that way Australians managed to be. Perfectly styled blonde hair, tanned, flawless skin, sparkling eyes.
“You look great,” she told me.
I fumbled for more excuse, the prospect of socializing after being isolated for so long was actually terrifying.
“Fiona!” a small voice shouted from the end of the hall.