Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Well, how much is he charging you in rent?” she replied. “If he’s giving you a deep discount, he could be making up the difference with dirty money and cleaning it by claiming it’s being paid by you.”
“You’ve been watching too many crime documentaries.”
“Hey! It’s not out of the realm of possibility. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on because this level of generosity isn’t computing for me.”
I let out a sigh, keeping my voice low in case Jonathan had woken up and could hear me. “I think he’s having a hard time with his mother’s death, and I think … I think having me around keeps her alive in his mind a little bit.”
“Oh,” Frances exclaimed. “Oh, Ada, that’s so sad. The poor man.”
Remembering how drunk he’d gotten last night and my creeping suspicion that he’d done it to drown out whatever was going on his head, I made a sound of agreement. “I know.”
A short silence fell before Frances blew out a breath. “So, can we still come visit? Will you send me the address?”
“Yes, but I just need to warn you in advance it’s fancy.”
“How fancy?”
“Shockingly fancy. As in, a penthouse apartment with amazing views and furniture that costs more than I’ve earned in my entire life fancy.”
“Blooming hell, in that case, maybe we should just meet up at the park instead? My three monsters are liable to ruin some of that costly furniture, and with Christmas coming up, I can’t afford the repairs,” she said on a chuckle.
“Right, that might be a good idea, actually.”
“How does midday sound?”
“Perfect. See you then.”
After hanging up, I went to use the bathroom then threw on the same cardigan from last night and went to check on Jonathan. He was still fast asleep on the couch, the water untouched. My eyes traced the masculine lines of his face and how the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a light thicket of hair and faintly golden skin. Heat rose in my cheeks when I realised I was ogling him, and I hurried to the kitchen. Filling a bowl with cereal, I returned to the living area and sat on the armchair, my gaze returning to Jonathan as I munched. I tried to decide if I should wake him or just let him sleep.
A moment later, I didn’t have to decide because his eyes slowly opened, and he groaned. “Good God, woman, do you have to chew so loudly?”
I laughed softly. “My bad. How’s your head?”
“Thumping,” he replied, endeavouring to sit. My stomach somersaulted when he picked up the glass of water and downed it in three thirsty gulps. My traitorous gaze lowered to his throat, finding it impossibly sexy. When had I ever found a man’s throat sexy before? Possibly never.
He didn’t ask why he was there and not in his own apartment, which led me to believe he remembered how he’d ended up on my couch. The kiss. His heated question that created a desire in me I hadn’t felt in ages. Cathal was handsome, but he’d never stirred the kind of sensations and attraction Jonathan did without even really trying. I was constantly distracted by the little things he did, like how he sometimes adjusted his cufflinks or absentmindedly loosened his tie, drawing my attention to his strong hands and masculine jawline.
A long silence fell after he set the glass back down on the coffee table. Finally, his eyes met mine, and I knew instantly that he remembered last night vividly by the flare of knowledge in his intelligent gaze. Strangely, he didn’t seem regretful, not even apologetic. In fact, the way he drank me in made me bizarrely feel like he was considering kissing me again, this time without the alcohol rushing through his bloodstream and lowering his inhibitions.
“So, were you at a party or something?” I asked.
“Pardon?”
“Last night, you were very drunk. I thought maybe you were out celebrating.”
Jonathan rubbed his jaw, a frown marring his features. “More like drowning my sorrows. I ran into an old friend of Mam’s yesterday at work, and it messed me up a little.”
My heart squeezed. “I’m sorry.” I paused as I studied him with a gentle gaze. “Alcohol is never the solution to pain.”
“It helps numb it a lot, though,” he countered.
“Right, but in the end, it becomes a crutch that has the ability to destroy you. Believe me, I speak from experience.”
Jonathan stared at me a moment, too hungover to comprehend at first, but then it dawned on him, and he swore under his breath. “Your father.”
“It’s been a long time since I found myself waking up out of anxiety every hour to check on someone who was blackout drunk. I was scared you might choke on your own vomit.”
Jonathan raked a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Fuck, Ada. Forgive me. I didn’t think …” he trailed off, his gaze softening. “Thank you for taking care of me. It won’t happen again. I promise.”