Chapter 17
Quill
Broken Dishes
Fade Into You
Mazzy Star
Tony: When I find out who you slept at, he'll be lucky if I only hit his leg.
Shaking my head, I grinned down at the small display of my Motorola StarTAC.
Quill: Relax. I'm really just at a friend's house.
“He invited me out for coffee. But I feel like he's too cute for me.”
I put my cell phone on the small cream-white nightstand next to Lara's light-brown-covered double bed while she scurried around her dimly lit room in her loose brown T-shirt decorated with a rotten Halloween pumpkin and beige pajama shorts, busy removing her makeup and tidying up, while the white strand of hair kept repeatedly slipping into her face.
I hadn't planned on visiting her so soon, especially since I knew who her father was. My face had been burning all evening. And when Lara had asked me, I hadn't been able to find a reason not to sleep here.
It's no big deal, Quill. Davian is probably already asleep. One room away... in his house.
God. Why did that fact trigger a tingling sensation in my stomach? It was as if the moths could sense that he was nearby.
“He keeps asking how I am and if he can sit next to me, instead of just doing it.”
“Looks like someone prefers bad boys in biker jackets,” I teased her, and her eyes widened.
“No, but someone who knows what they want and can show it with confidence. Someone who doesn’t ask, but can read a woman.”
To this day, I wondered why Lara didn't like the cute boys who had always hung around her locker in high school and left her letters. Then again... they had never been my type either.
Although she went on quite a few dates, she never started a relationship or even got involved in hookups. She also never raved about boys like other girls did.
“Someday, the right one will come along,” she always said, but with more desperation than hope in her voice. And I wished that for her, even though I sometimes felt that Lara’s expectations for men were too high.
The little puppy jumped on the bed and immediately lay down in my lap before I had time to stop him.
Over the course of the evening, I had quickly become friends with the little guy. Petting him had kept me from picking at the skin around my nails until my fingertips bled or scratching the uneven spots on my face.
As soon as we had gotten to her room, Lara had had to promise me that she wouldn't tell anyone that I was part of the Richter family. Of course not, because my father made me a secret.
First, my entire identity would be revealed if Monica found out. And second, Davian had been his goddamn student and protégé, even defending him as if he knew him better than I did.
I still felt queasy just thinking about it.
What kind of man had Davian met that he was so convinced of him? No one who really knew my father would talk about him that way. Not even Anthony.
Lara had confessed to me that she had known Tony since she was a child because he had not only studied with Davian, but was also his best friend.
Great, Quill. Something inside you longs for a man you know you shouldn't desire. A man life keeps reminding you with every new revelation has no business occupying your thoughts.
I could ruin his life. His friendship with my brother, the good relationship he had with his daughter, and now even the one with my asshole father?
I must have been a Nazi in my past life for this one to punish me so severely.
“You haven't had a boyfriend since Jacob.”
Lara applied the lotion – a scent of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air – to her face, then to her legs.
“Even though quite a few guys in high school looked at you and even asked you out on dates.”
The mere memory of those awkward half-grown guys with their peach fuzz, pungent sports deodorant, and baseball caps made me thank my lucky stars my school days were over. There was no way in hell I'd ever go back to high school.
“And you should see the looks you get from the young men on campus...” Lara winked and smiled. “Has anyone asked you out yet?”
Never would I say yes to such an invitation. It would probably be part of some devious power play to either humiliate me in front of the whole campus or bully me out of Maplecrest for good.
“Even if... Guys my age are immature and inexperienced.”
Lara knew my preferences, and I made no secret of my exotic, risky sex life. Usually, at least.
She would end our friendship if she found out I couldn't take my eyes off her father.
“Ugh, Quill”
Lara got under the covers, and I did the same until we were lying opposite each other.
She had given me a thin navy-blue fall sweater with brown acorns on it, along with gray sweatpants. And she didn't need to know that I would die of heat in them, but I preferred to melt rather than risk her discovering my recent cuts on my arms and thighs.
“Please don't tell me you're still sleeping with men in their thirties.”
So close to her, I couldn't avoid her gaze.
Oh, Lara. If you only knew my tastes have graduated from the thirties into the forties.
“Age is just a number.” I smirked playfully. “I’m an adult.”
Lara looked at me with a serious expression, as if she were a mother ready to lecture her daughter.
Would Mama ever have done that, if she had been able to? She had left me to my own devices since I was eight. And before that... I couldn’t remember.
Before the tears could come, I dug my nails into the sides of my fingers under the blanket and started picking at their skin.
“Those old guys only want you for your body.”
“And the young ones don’t?”
Lara slid closer, reached for my free hand and took it in hers, more subconsciously than consciously, and I immediately felt better.
“You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes, inspecting the writing on my fingers and the back of my hands. “Besides... Don’t you ever think about the fact that you were a child when they were already in college?”
I had, often. But it had never felt wrong to seek validation in the possessive grip of these men for a few minutes.
“Believe me, girl…” Her grin came out of nowhere and she squeezed my hand tighter. “I’ll find you the perfect young gentleman your own age. And you’ll never even think about older men again.”
I smiled, grateful to have her, and Lara closed her eyes.
“Sweet dreams, Quill.”
“Sweet dreams, Lara.”
She meant well, but she would be wasting her time. No boy, no man would ever commit to me. Sooner or later, they would all realize that I was incapable of relationships. An author bleeding to death on the shards of reality. Too sensitive. Too needy. Too clingy... Unlovable.
Threnody
Goldmund
Lara had fallen asleep minutes ago.
And I was sure I would die of a heatstroke within the next five minutes.
Besides, my thoughts were racing in circles. Something for which there was only one helpful solution.
As slowly as possible, I pulled myself out of her now loose grip, waited a moment as she turned and murmured something incomprehensible in her sleep, before pushing the blanket aside and tiptoeing out of the room.
Grateful that the warm, dimmed, pleasantly peaceful light was still on in the hallway, I tiptoed past the bookshelves and inspected the endless collection of literature categorized by genre and arranged alphabetically.
The entire house consisted of elegant bookshelves, the walls all cream white, the floor-to-ceiling windows all so beautifully large, and I knew immediately that Davian was one of the wealthier residents of this town, even if the house was not a mansion.
In the part of town where the Rydells lived, the gardens were large, many linden and oak trees grew, and parks surrounded the neighborhood.
The books in front of me were just one part of a home I would never have.
All of this belonged to Davian.
Inspecting all the shelves felt like a forbidden glimpse into his mind.
He really owned all kinds of literature, but preferably English and American classics, Norwegian crime novels, and German thrillers, even written in German.
A large part of his collection consisted of dystopian and science fiction series, of which he owned entire series in special hardcover editions.
My fingers itched to pull them out and look at the interior design, as such copies sometimes contained color illustrations or author signatures.
Had he read them all?
He was a lawyer and had raised Lara on his own. He had probably owned these books for far too long, which would explain the layer of dust on some of them.
More shelves followed, filled with thick taboo romances, and I couldn't help but smile. No wonder he had read Batteries of Ink.
In front of the next shelf, I stopped speechless.
Nicholson Baker and Ana?s Nin were just a few of the authors whose books were lined up here. Visibly worn spines of The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by A. N. Roquelaure, Histoire d'O by Pauline Réage, and Fear of Flying by Erica Jong joined them, among others.
I had never met a single man who read such books on a regular basis.
Like a deer in the headlights, I stared at the titles while the warmth crept between my thighs.
A creak made me turn my head, caught off guard.
When I spotted Streusel on the wide staircase behind the white wooden railing, his head tilted, panic spread through me.
I cautiously tiptoed toward the dog, who began to wag his tail.
Streusel hadn't barked yet, but he was a puppy. If he made a noise, I was screwed.
“Hey, little guy,” I whispered and crept as quietly as possible down the cream-colored carpet of the stairs to the ground floor, where at least I couldn't wake anyone up. Streusel followed me cheerfully.
Once again, I noticed all the picture frames covered with stickers that brought life to the walls in the kitchen, dining room, and living room.
Pictures like I had never seen on the walls of our old house.
Pictures that weren't even hanging in the Richters' house, if you ignored the stiff family portraits.
Seeing Davian at all different ages made me smile.