“Autumn? Autumn, are you okay?” Wade asks, pounding on the door. The handle jangles as he tries it but holds steady.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be just a minute,” I sputter.
Jitters consume my body and for a moment, it’s all I can do to not pass out—or fall over. When they subside, I wipe the side of my mouth and lean back, resting my head on the wall behind me.
I shouldn’t let things get to me like this. It isn’t healthy. At this rate, I won’t need the Moirai to finish me off. I’ll end up doing it to myself.
“Seriously, Autumn. Are you okay?” Wade says, from the other side of the door.
Inhaling slowly, I push myself forward, crawling on all fours to the door. I pull myself up on the counter and unlock the door. Stepping back, Wade pushes it open.
“Sorry, I’m just a bundle of nerves. I saw that…spindle and it freaked me out,” I whisper.
Wade’s dark eyebrows furrow and he eyes me closely. “You look like death.” He screws up his face. “Sorry. Kinda slipped out.”
“I feel like death,” I mutter. “It’ll pass. I’m just too… raw.”
Wade wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. The heat from his body sends chills rolling through me as he attempts to warm me up.
“Come on. That’s enough exploring for one day. Let’s get you in bed,” he says, leading us out of the bathroom and into the darkness of the hall.
The next few days pass in a blur of anxiety-induced bedrest. My stomach has continued to be persistently queasy, and anything I attempt to eat doesn’t linger long inside my system. Between the family curse and the reading of the will, there’s no safe place to settle into. I don’t know how to relax anymore.
Before I know it, it’s Monday.
The executor of the will will be arriving any minute, and I have yet to get dressed for the day.
“I don’t wanna do it,” I whine, lying back on the bed.
Wade laughs, reaching for my hand. “I know, but you need to get out of this bed anyway.”
“Do I really, though?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yes, you do. As much as I love you, you need a shower and fresh clothes.”
“What are you saying? I stink?” I sit up, scoffing in mock offense.
“It’s quickly getting there,” he laughs. “Now, move it. You’ll feel better afterward and then we’ll get this reading over with. You’ll feel better after all that, too.”
I grumble, but shuffle my way to the bathroom. If the past couple of days in Wade’s care wasn’t enough to remind me of his time as a personal care assistant, it’s evident as I walk into the room. Fresh clothing is laid out across the radiator, along with a towel. My brush and my usual cosmetics and girly products are strewn across the counter.
Smiling to myself, I turn the shower on and cast a glance into the hallway. I can barely make out my bedroom doorway from here, but it appears Wade has vacated the room for less-confined pastures.
I can’t say I blame him. He’s spent the past few days by my side.
As I remove my clothing and drop it into the hamper, I stop by the mirror, gaping at myself. Dark circles accentuate my hazel eyes and I look like I could compete in a goth makeup competition.
Making a face, I turn back to the shower and hurry to get in.
While the water feels good, it does nothing to quell the panic brewing inside of me.
Nothing ever prepares you for losing a parent. As much as I think I’ve gotten over it, one more thing crops up, bringing it all back. One day it’s a picture in the hall. Another day it’s a casual conversation. Then it’s something more serious, like dealing with the will.
By the time I step out of the shower, the room is frigid in comparison.
Hurrying over to the radiator, I grab my towel, grateful that Wade thought to put it on top of the toasty heat. After I dry off and dress, I have to admit, I do feel better. Not quite like a full-fledged human being, but close enough.
I make my way over to the bedroom, just to make sure Wade’s not there, unsurprised when he’s not. Padding my way down the hallway, I’m surprised to hear voices as I close in on the grand staircase.
“Will Ms. Blackwood be attending?” a soft male voice asks.
“Yes, she was just getting ready. She’ll be here momentarily,” Wade responds, ever the gentleman. “Is there anything I can get for you while you wait? Coffee, tea?
“Water would be lovely. Thank you, Mr. Hoffman.”
“Not a problem.” Wade walks out of the sitting room just as I round the corner to the main entry. He walks over to me and places his hands on my upper arms. Kissing me on the forehead, he says, “Breathe. It’ll all be over soon.”
I inhale slowly through my nose. “So, he’s in there?”
Wade nods. “But he won’t bite. Just go in and introduce yourself. I’m getting him some water. Do you want anything?”
“Vodka?” I mutter.
“Probably not a wise choice, considering. How about some tea? I think I saw chamomile in there somewhere,” he says, jabbing a thumb toward the kitchen.
I nod in response, turning to face the sitting room. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
Wade drops his hands, squeezing one of mine as he continues on his way.
Straightening my shoulders, I walk down the remainder of the hallway and into the sitting room.
A rather thin man in a dark-blue suit stands up from the couch. He’s no taller than I am as he walks up to me with his arm outstretched. I reach for it, shaking his hand.
