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)
I looked to the open bottle in front of him. “Looks like you haven’t learned your lesson.”
Jonathan smirked. “Cheeky. I’ve only had one glass if you must know, and I plan on stopping at two.” He paused to consider me. “You should take tonight off. After I disturbed your sleep last night, you deserve it.”
“Really? Well, if you’re sure,” I turned to leave when his voice pulled me back.
“Stay and have a glass of wine with me.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. After my talk with Frances, I knew I should decline, but something about the soft look in his eyes and the way he motioned to the space next to him on the couch had my feet moving farther into the apartment, my mouth responding before I could properly think through the consequences.
“Okay, but I’m only staying for one.”
15.
Jonathan
After Ada left that morning Maggie had questioned me endlessly about her living next door and what might be going on between us. I’d done my best to assure her I was merely trying to help Ada out during a tough time, but my half sister had been far from convinced. I didn’t know what I expected. Maggie was too smart not to see that there was something more between me and the stunningly beautiful brunette next door. Thankfully, though, she’d let it drop after a while.
Unfortunately, she’d then proceeded to encourage me once again to make an appointment with the grief counsellor who’d helped Shay and his father when Shay’s mother had passed. Normally, I’d avoid giving a straight answer and divert her attention to another topic, but the way I’d drank last night was a red flag. I’d been trying to numb my feelings, and that wasn’t a healthy sign. So, I’d relented and made the appointment. I didn’t look forward to spilling my guts to a professional, but maybe it would help. Stranger things had happened.
“This wine is incredible,” Ada commented, bringing my attention back to the present.
What was I even doing inviting her to share a glass with me? Asking for trouble, that was what. The memory of her silky cheeks beneath my palms, her soft mouth and drugging taste on my tongue had haunted me all day. Kissing her had been an impulsive move. I’d done it out of instinct, out of pure desire. Perhaps a part of me believed she’d push me away, and that would be the end of it. A full stop to the attraction I’d been harbouring. If I knew she didn’t want me back, then that would be reason enough to leave her alone. But she hadn’t stopped me. No, her mouth had welcomed mine. She’d blossomed open for me like a flower, and I’d gotten completely carried away, thoughts of falling to my knees and going down on her right there in the open plan living room had taken over my every instinct.
“Your sister seems lovely. I’m guessing you two had different upbringings?” she went on.
I tilted my head to her. “How’d you figure that?”
“Well, for a start, your accent is posh, and hers isn’t. She also has a completely different personality to yours.”
“Oh?” I couldn’t help being curious to hear more of her opinion, especially since she was correct in certain ways. Maggie and I had grown up in very different parts of Dublin. What we had in common was an absent, good for nothing father and mothers who’d welcomed various men into their lives who only functioned to make everything worse for their children.
“Have you ever heard of enneagram personality types?” Ada questioned, and I shook my head. “It’s sort of a pseudo-science.” She shot me a sheepish glance. “But I started studying it when I was made manager at Pinebrook. I thought it would help with leading a team of people to be able to identify each person’s type, their strengths and weaknesses.”
I drank some wine and studied her. “And did it?”
“A little. There are nine enneagram personality types, but sometimes it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly which one a person is.” She paused a moment to consider me. “If I had to take a guess, you’d be a one.”
“What’s a one?”
She took another sip of wine. “Ones are perfectionists with lots of ambition. They’re idealistic, rational and moralistic. Incredible decision makers. Your basic drive is for integrity and balance. You value honesty and truth and get frustrated when people are deceitful. Your sister might be a two, perhaps with a nine wing.”
I leaned in closer, resting my arm along the back of the couch, fascinated by how she saw me. I knew she was presenting the positives of a “one,” as she called it, and that there were likely various negatives, but I decided to bask in the compliment for now. “And what would a two with a nine wing be?”