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)
Bloody hell, that was all I needed. A squatter in my mother’s house. And an inconveniently beautiful one at that.
I went to the kitchen and found Therese by the counter going through emails on her phone like she hadn’t been listening to every word.
“I assume you heard all that,” I said with a sigh as I entered.
“You could’ve been kinder to her. You just walked in on her in the bathroom, not to mention she’s grieving, too.”
Right. Grieving for her rat bastard of a father.
“Is that true what you said about the notice? 180 days seems excessive. That’s what? Six months?”
Therese turned her phone to me, showing me a list of tenant rights on the RTB website. I inwardly swore. My plan was to get rid of Ada Rose as soon as our parents’ funerals were done with. Now, it appeared I was going to be stuck with her for a lot longer than anticipated.
A few minutes later, she appeared in the kitchen doorway, thankfully clad in jeans and an oversized hoodie so I didn’t need to be distracted by the curves hidden beneath. She’d combed out her thick hair, and it hung in a damp river down her back.
“Hello again,” she said, dipping her head to Therese. “Can I offer either of you a cup of tea or coffee?”
“Don’t presume to offer me a beverage in my own house,” I shot off, deeply uncomfortable with how at ease she was walking about the place.
“Right, I get that you’re inheriting the house, Jonathan. You don’t need to keep repeating it. However, you haven’t been here in a long time, and I’m more familiar with where everything is kept; hence, my offer …”
Oh, the fucking attitude. For a split second, my fingers itched to bend her over the table and teach her a lesson in how to speak to me. She was definitely her father’s daughter. Though it did concern me how much I enjoyed the sassy way she’d enunciated my name.
“I might not have been here in some time, but I did grow up in this house; hence, why I can remember where things are kept. I’m not an imbecile.”
Ada Rose merely lifted an eyebrow and motioned for me to go ahead. “Great. In that case, I’ll take a cup of tea. Milk, no sugar.”
I pressed my lips together and stared her down. A long silence elapsed before Therese blew out an exasperated breath. “I’ll make the tea. You two sit and discuss the tenancy arrangement.”
I walked slowly across the room then silently unbuttoned my suit jacket and took a seat at the table across from Ada. I felt her eyes on me while Therese filled the kettle with water then began searching through cupboards.
“Cups are in the second cupboard on the left,” I told her then shot Ada a satisfied glance when Therese replied, “Ah, so they are.”
Ada frowned then glanced at her lap. Her dark eyelashes cast shadows across her cheeks and highlighted her fine bone structure. When she glanced at me next, her eyes travelled over me as though cataloguing my features. I noticed when she focused on my bandaged hand.
“What happened to you?”
I stared at her but didn’t answer, a flash of me punching the wall in my office bathroom entering my head before I blanked it out. She blew out a sigh and let the subject drop.
“How are things proceeding with the repatriation process?” she continued in a sober voice.
“I’m flying over there tomorrow and will be returning with the bodies on Friday.”
“Friday? Right, okay.” Her brow furrowed like she was making plans. “That means we should be able to hold the funeral on Monday. I’ve already been in touch with a director and—”
“Please have them forward the bill to my office.”
Ada blinked in surprise, my generosity clearly taking her off guard. Look, I might not have wanted her living in my mother’s house for any longer than absolutely necessary, but I did possess a heart. Despite our troubled relationship, I loved my mother, and I would give her the send-off she deserved, even if it meant paying for her scumbag husband’s funeral, too. Ada had corresponded with Therese about Mam’s wish to be buried alongside Conor, and if Ada’s wardrobe, the fact she was living in my mother’s spare bedroom and her beat-up old Toyota parked out front was anything to go by, then I doubted she had the money to pay for her father’s half of the funeral.
“I don’t understand. Why would you do that?”
I held her gaze, my expression flat while a knife twisted in my gut. I’d been in pain since hearing of Mam’s passing, and it felt like I would never not be in pain again. No day would go by when I wasn’t filled with self-recrimination and regret. That was my cross to bear.