The thought has me feeling sick to my stomach.
Then again, I suppose I can’t go without putting some of it on my mother as well. Though I don’t know if she had any idea if he was married or not.
Torrin laughs loudly. When I look up at him with shock written all over my face, I see his head is thrown back and a hand rests on his stomach. I don’t understand what’s so funny.
“No, Donovan doesn’t have a wife. Or a fiancée. Or a girlfriend, for that matter,” he says, putting me completely out of my misery. I don’t even hide the exhale of relief. He leans his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Lucille keeps this house running. She mostly does the cooking now and makes sure the rest of the staff keeps in line.”
I eye the covered plate, pretending that I didn’t just get nosy about something so personal, or how telling it probably is.
“What is it?” I ask.
I can’t say why I’m craving human contact right now. I don’t really care what the food is, I’m just not eager to be alone with my thoughts and strange emotions again. A heavy load has been dumped on me today. I feel like my life has been flipped upside down. I’m seeking answers, but the only person I have to go to is myself, and I don’t have a single idea about any of this.
“Jam-glazed duck on a bed of mashed butternut squash with a side of roasted broccoli.”
I do my best to keep my face from showing how gross it sounds to me. I don’t want to be a snob, but also, does that make me a snob when I’m turning my nose up at snobby food? This is so confusing.
“Did you eat it?” I ask, lifting up the cloche and taking a peek.
“No,” he tells me. I think he’s trying not to chuckle at me. I must not be doing a very good job at playing it cool. “But I’m going to take a plate when I leave.”
“Oh,” I drop the metal dome and eye the smaller one next to it.
“She also made you a grilled cheese sandwich just in case the duck is not to your liking or if you’re vegetarian. Sorry, it’s not vegan. If you are, I can run out and get you something.”
“No, that’s okay,” I rush to say. “I eat animals.” Normally, they’re super-processed and not fancy ones, but I don’t need to say that. I don’t need to tell him how the aunts were horrible cooks, all three of them, and so we lived on easy things that went from freezer to oven. I’m sure knowing I was a virgin at the age of twenty-five and that I lived with my guardians way past the time I should have been there paints me in a silly light, and the last thing I need is for him to think I’m some child-like adult who grew up in a basement. I’m notthatinnocent or sheltered, I swear. “I’ll try it.”
Or eat the grilled cheese and call it a night.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asks.
“I have nothing. Clothes and toiletries would be nice, if it’s not too much. I suppose I could just wear the sheets, though I don’t think Mr. Falco would like that.”
“You’d be surprised,” he says under his breath before sending me a quick smile. “I’ll talk to Donovan.”
“He’s not going to let me out,” I say. An idea comes to mind, but it won’t work if I’m locked in this tower… I mean house.
“Just let me work my magic, okay?”
I nod. Maybe he’s just trying to get me to drop it. I have no idea. I’ve put it out there, and I guess all I can do is wait and see.
“Bathroom’s across the hall. Feel free to use anything in there.” He straightens. “Good night, Astra.”
With that, the conversation is done. After I wish him a good night, he’s off, and I’m left to my thoughts again.
I pick at the grilled cheese. I’m hungry, but my stomach is in knots.
It doesn’t take me long to abandon it. Grilled cheese is not something you can eat cold, so I’ll be going without tonight.
My feet carry me to the other side of the room. I pull back the curtain covering the glass pane on the door. It’s easy to spot the lights behind a few curtained-off rooms, but I can’t tell if there’s any activity behind them. The courtyard below is not huge, but it’s beautiful. A firepit sits in the middle, but I see there are no chairs around it. The stonework is beautifully done. A couple of small square tables sit scattered about, each with four chairs tucked underneath. Wrought iron pillars decorate the space, helping to hold up the gallery running the way around the house on the second floor. Some of them are covered with real ivy, which I find amusing since the scrolling work of the iron is in the shape of ivy leaves. It’s clear someone takes care of it, cutting it back so it doesn’t become overgrown.
If this were another universe, I could see myself out there. Spending cold nights in front of a roaring firepit, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate. It seems peaceful. Warm mornings, I could take my breakfast at one of the tables, maybe reading a book or doing some sort of brain teaser puzzle. I’m not good at them but I like to try. One of the aunts, Blossom, would get me a book full of them when she would go to the grocery store about once a month. I have a stack of them in my room at the cabin, where the puzzles were half done.
As I let the curtain fall closed, I catch a glimpse of a chair outside my room. Good to know that if I feel too trapped or restless, I can just step outside and have a thinking spot to get some fresh air.
I wonder where Donovan is. Is he in one of the rooms on this level now? Is he downstairs, maybe eating dinner in a fancy dining room? Where is his bedroom?
Oh, no. No, no, no. We don’t need to think about that.
