Page 26 of The House Guest
“I was a very sad and depressed person before moving to Orion Coast,” I admitted. “Well, you know I’d lost my mom. It was hard for me to be back in Ohio without her. It’s a weird feeling to have no family left. I’d always believed the only people to truly love you are your family. I had a few friends back home, but they were all busy with their boyfriends or jobs. For the first time in my life, I felt totally alone, like an adult orphan. It’s strange to feel like if you died tomorrow, no one would be particularly devastated.”
“I feel that in my soul, Primrose.” He placed his hand on my arm. “I really do.”
The contact sent shivers through me. “The decision to sell the Ohio house and move here was the easiest one I’d ever made.”
“Did you feel less lonely here?”
“A little. Christina and I were never close enough for her to be anything like my mother. But the fact that she was my mother’s sister made me feel closer to my mom.” I took a deep breath. “The ocean brought me some peace, too. It was all so different from home, and that was what I needed at the time.”
He rested his chin on his palm. “It was good for a while—until it wasn’t, huh?”
I nodded. “After they died, I had to adjust to yet another new reality.”
“I’d ask how that’s going, but I understand, because I’m living it.”
“I throw myself into my art. That’s pretty much how I handle it. And I’m grateful to still have school to distract me. That’s thanks to you for allowing me to live here, since I might’ve had to drop out if I had to pay for an apartment.” I paused. “Anyway, I’d stopped practicing my craft for a while back in Ohio, but enrolling in art school ensures that I stick to it.”
“What do you hope to achieve long term?”
“I don’t expect miracles. If my art ends up in some big gallery someday, I wouldn’t be mad at that.” I smiled. “But honestly, I’d be just as happy as an art teacher. As long as I could still draw and paint forme, I’d be happy.”
He stared at me so intently that I had to look away. “Should we start a movie?”
He looked over at the screen. “I almost forgot we were supposed to be watching one.”
“We don’t have to, if you’d rather keep talking.”
“That’s the weird thing, Primrose. Idowant to keep talking, and normally I hate talking. But this isn’t small talk. It’s more meaningful. I could talk to you all night.”
Dorian settled into his seat, turning toward me. My arm leaned against his a little, and I could feel the heat of his body. This had started to feel intimate, though not necessarily in a sexual way.
He went on to tell me stories about his childhood, growing up in the mansion. He said after his mom died, Benjamin was almost like a second father to him, since his dad worked so much. He told me his mother used to have a beautiful rose garden out back, but after she died, no one kept it up. He felt sad that he hadn’t tried harder to maintain it in her memory.
I talked about my childhood, too, admitting that it wasn’t the greatest. My mom had a lot of boyfriends, none of whom ever turned out to be the one for her. Watching her bad luck in the love department had made me wary of trusting men in general.
Dorian and I stayed in the theater talking well into the middle of the night.
And the movie never happened.
CHAPTER 8
The following morning, Patsy looked down at the apple crisp still on the stove.
“What is this dessert?”
Crap.Neither Dorian nor I had returned to the kitchen last night to put it away. I wasn’t sure he’d want me spilling his Betty Crocker secrets. But considering I was a terrible liar and Patsy was staring at me, I decided to tell the truth.
“Dorian made it.”
Her eyes widened. “Dorian?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting. I wouldn’t have taken him for a baker.”
“Dorian made his mother’s apple crisp?” Benjamin asked as he entered behind me.
“You knew about that recipe?” I smiled.
