Chapter 36
MACKENZIE
He didn’t come home last night, and while I had the entire bedroom for myself, and the experience of living in his house was good for so many reasons, I still wallowed in self-pity.
There were moments when I felt like a princess.
There were also moments when I felt like a captive.
Once he left, the house got quiet.
There were people in the house, but they mostly chit-chatted in the kitchen, downstairs, or outside while removing the snow.
It started to snow right after he pulled away.And I stayed upstairs for about an hour before I decided to make the most of this experience.
So I shed my heels and suit, took a shower, put on some comfortable clothes, and went downstairs to eat lunch.
Seafood chowder with extra sour cream and chopped cilantro, freshly baked bread, and red velvet cake.
It felt like it was my birthday, only without running any errands, grappling with the constraints of a tight budget, and not knowing how to pay the rent.
Speaking of that, the super will throw a fit if I break the lease, which I’ll probably do.
I napped after lunch and walked around the property in the evening. Not alone, of course. One of his men kept an eye on me from the distance.
At night, I find myself looking for something to read.
Life is not easy without a phone, a laptop, or a tablet.
The housekeeper directed me to a room at the end of the corridor––a reading room where Callan’s mother had kept her favorite reads.
It wasn’t easy to find something to my taste. There wasn’t much what I’d call modern literature, and the book I had picked up put me to sleep.
Today was better and worse at the same time.
Better because I’m getting used to the idea and the perks that come with this. The breakfast served in the nook in the kitchen. Chatting with the staff. Participating in activities around the house––because I’m getting bored.
But also worse because having my willpower stripped from me makes me feel unmoored. My whole life orbited around planning for the future and taking care of myself.
Maybe I hadn’t had much, but I had control over what happened to me. I made decisions. I suffered the consequences.Or was it the illusion of having control over my life?
Now?
Not so much.
A knock on the door makes me shift my eyes in that direction.
It must be someone from inside the house.I’ve been watching the driveway since I came back from lunch, and it’s almost five now.
No one else pulled in.
“Yes.”
The housekeeper enters the bedroom.
“I brought you a snack and some coffee,” she says, and although I’m full, I can’t say no to her.
I haven’t had someone treating me so nicely in a while.
I push up from my chair.
“Sure. Thank you. Let me help you,” I say, making room on the small table tucked by the window.
She sets everything down.
A plate of finger food and a cup of coffee.
“Great,” she says, looking at the open book on the sill. “I see you’ve got the hang of it,” she murmurs, smiling before tugging at the drape to reveal the entire view of the estate.
“It’s beautiful outside. Maybe I’ll go for a walk,” I say.
“You should do that,” the woman says as the lampposts come on. “It’s a beautiful time of year. Quiet and peaceful,” she adds before pointing to the food. “Grab a bite first,” she murmurs and pivots to walk away.
“Listen,” I say, sliding back into my seat.
The woman stops and turns to me.
“Yes?”
I ponder for a second.
“May I ask you something?”
She takes a few steps in my direction and stops in the middle of the room.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
I fuss with my question for a few good moments.
“Do you know Callan well?” I ask.
Her features glow with relief and a smile tilts her lips.
“I’ve known him since he was a little boy. Yeah, I’d say I know him well.”
“Is he a good man?” I ask, and her grin fades, mixed feelings flashing through her eyes.
“He has a complicated history…” she says apologetically.
“I know that. But other than that… Is he a good man?”
“I’d say… yes?”
“You’re not sure.”
“He’s great with me and his people. He’s great with his brothers.”
“The people he loves.”
“Yes. For sure, the people he loves.”
I take a long breath.
“Okay. Thank you.”
She doesn’t move away.
“I’m sure things will work out in the end,” she says, hoping to make me feel good with her words.
I’m sure she has no idea what ‘things’ Callan and I are dealing with.
“I’m sure they will,” I say neutrally, flashing a tired smile.
She moves closer.
“Listen…” she says. “I don’t know what his plans are with you, but he’s never brought a woman to this house. In case that means anything in your world. It would mean a lot in mine. Men are very particular about what they do and don’t do. Even the weakest one will be stubborn about these things in his life. Let alone someone like Callan Bard. Whatever he is doing has a purpose and a meaning, and rest assured, you’ll soon learn his intentions.”
I smile again, unconvinced by her argument.
He’s already told what his intentions are. He wants to keep me here until a better plan comes along. Basically, this is the only way he can keep me alive. That is enough to keep anyone awake at night, let alone me, who feeds on angst like it’s candy.
“I’m sure I will,” I say.
“Good. Enjoy yourself,” she says, sighing with relief that our conversation has finally drawn to an end.
The door closes behind her, and I eat the finger food and drink coffee before going to the closet, rifling through my clothes, and selecting something warm to put on.
Walking outside is like a fairy tale.
The snow shimmers under the starry sky and bird calls echo far between the branches.
A beautiful place with history and buried sorrow. I can tell.
People find solace in this place, but while it takes some time to heal, the souls living here can’t fully fill it with joy.
Dinner awaits me––tomato soup and macaroni and cheese–– and I eat later after mindlessly watching some shows on TV.
The clutches of passing time wrap around me and squeeze my neck, killing my hope that I will talk to him tonight.
Or see him.
Or learn if I could change his mind.
To kill my simmering despair, I take a long bath, drench myself in every aroma I find on the bathroom shelves, and go to bed wearing nothing.
Around midnight, I fall asleep to the sound of crackling logs in the background and the view of soft snowflakes quivering in the wind.
I doubt it’s been long since I drifted off to sleep as the sound of footsteps and voices draws me back to being awake.
I push upright and listen. The male voices ring out in front of the house. Swiftly, I clamber out and put on my robe before going to the window.
I spot three men.
Callan exits the house, and they talk. None of them, not even the owner of the house, are aware of my presence.
A few seconds pass, and they shake hands with Callan before climbing into their cars and pulling away.
I jerk back just as Callan turns around to enter the house.
Not far from the driveway, I notice one of the men guarding the place.
Quick steps take me back to bed.
I don’t slide under the covers.
I wouldn’t be able to sleep to save my life right now.
I only press my back into the pillow and the headboard and listen in perfect silence.
Unfortunately, the house is solid and built for privacy, so no sound moves through the walls.
Eventually, steady, measured footsteps take the stairs up. They move past my door and enter a different room in the hallway.
I roll off the bed, tiptoe to the door, crack it open, and check the corridor.
A sliver of light slips from under a door close to the reading room. A short battle ensues inside me, and after debating with myself, I muster enough courage to go to him and ask him questions.
I knock once.
Nothing.
I knock again.
“Yes.”
His voice is raspy and tired.
I push the door open and find him standing in front of a room minimally furnished with a bed, a chair, a desk, and a simple bathroom. It looks like a guest room.
He lifts his gaze from his phone, runs his gaze over me, and expects me to speak.
Whatever I had to say had vanished from my head.
“Are you sleeping here?” I ask.
He looks at me, frozen.
He wears a dress shirt and suit pants and looks like he could put his coat on and leave at any moment.
“Are you staying the night?” I ask again.
He gives me a soft nod.
“Why are you sleeping here? There’s enough room in the bedroom?” I say, my heart exploding with emotions in my chest.
“I’m used to sleeping alone.”
“You’ve made an exception in the past. Besides, I’d love to have you there with me. I’m not used to sleeping with anyone, either, but I like sharing the bed with you.”
When have I become this blabbering idiot?
He looks at his phone just as it vibrates with a message.
“Okay…” he says, not looking at me. “Go back. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“Sure.”
I make myself scarce and slide out the door with a growing feeling in my chest that I have scored a victory.