The Price of Inertia (The Seven Sins #4) - Lily Zante Page 0,110

I’m a slut for being with Ward. Who the hell is he to judge me?

When I look back on all our interactions I see things differently now. He behaved more like an older protective boyfriend, which is something I don’t need. The more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes, his questions and preaching about my boyfriend choices.

He thinks I’m making a mistake with Ward, but he doesn’t know the half of it. Ward isn’t messed up, he’s hurting. No one understands this better than I do.

I decide to avoid Jamie, and no longer hang around the kitchen for our daily chat. I find it odd that this is a situation I never thought I would be in—growing closer to Ward while being at war with Jamie. I don’t want to make up with him. He’s being awful sulky about something he knows nothing about, and he’s too overprotective for my liking.

We need a break. We’ve worked together, and then continued to see one another through this job, and with both of us going through changing relationships and job losses, and adjusting to a new life, it’s no wonder things are tetchy.

If me and Ward are seeing one another, I shouldn’t need to hide it from one of my closest friends. My attempts to get Ward to open up aren’t always successful, but I’m finding out things slowly, but chipping away a little at a time. He’s had a lot to deal with and I’m trying to be gentle with him.

This will take time. I love being with Ward, I love what we have, and no one is going to ruin this for me. I want to tell my mom because I’m so happy and I want to share my happiness with her but I don’t want to risk confusing her because she doesn’t even know about Dale and me splitting up.

I head towards Ward’s study to clean it while he’s showering. The fire is burning as usual. He must have been up early to get some work done before Jamie arrived.

I wipe down the desk, taking care as always when I lift his notebooks and piles of paper, his pens and pencils, to wipe away the dust before neatly putting them all back in order, just the way he likes it. I see a scribble on a piece of paper and, curious, I take a peek.

Ward has scribbled my name again, in bold, beautiful, elegant letters. He has beautiful handwriting for a man. I stare at my name—there are no love hearts or doodles, or scribbles—it’s just my name, but it’s enough to send me into a tailspin of happiness.

He thinks of me.

He thinks of me even as he sits here trying to get words down. I’m always in his thoughts. It’s the most reassuring and comforting feeling.

I think of him almost all the time. It’s like I can’t ever get enough of him. Most nights, he’s also in my bed, it’s like he can’t bear to be apart from me. As if he can no longer bear to be alone.

I shove the sheet of paper back again in with the others and tidy up the piles before I begin wiping his lampshade, but my curiosity gets the better of me. I’ve never read any of his work. I don’t even know how he writes. Jamie’s always said that he’s a gifted writer, but I don’t know. Maybe taking a little sneak peek might give me another window into this elusive man?

I move away a few stray sheets of paper, and find page one of his manuscript. The title says, ‘The Unseen Face-DRAFT’. I get a tingle in the pit of my stomach knowing that I’m looking through something that only Ward has seen. I leaf through the crisp white pages, unbound and loose, and glance at the pages of neatly typed prose.

This is his new book. The one he’s been working on the entire time I’ve been here. I wonder if being with me has shaped any of this thoughts and his words. It’s a conceited thought to have, but I’m curious.

My breath stops in my throat. My heart thunders.

I’m so tempted to read it even though he has warned me not to. I don’t read horror, but my fear is less due to that than because Ward told me not to.

I bite my lower lip as I turn the first page. My eye catches the first sentence: She took my heart and broke it; hurling