Eyes Like the Night by Emma Accola

Author:Emma Accola [Accola, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-11T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Micah’s gleaming, professionally decorated townhouse was a far cry from the overcrowded animal theme I’d become accustomed to. His home had a restful quality, all open spaces and tasteful blues, browns, and black. The proportions and colors were precise and perfect. Still, to me, it didn’t quite seem like Micah. I was trying to think of why as I put my family’s wine bottles into Micah’s wine refrigerator.

“Let’s have one of those,” Micah said.

I chose a Riesling. “Is this all right?”

“That looks good.”

My face flushed when I handed him the bottle to open. “Look, while I’m here, I’m going to pay my own way. I don’t expect you to keep me.”

“Don’t worry about it. There’s no mortgage on this place. My expenses are fairly low.”

“The taxes and association fee must be crazy high.”

“Of course they are. This is San Francisco.” Micah got out a couple of goblets and poured the wine. “Would you feel better if we wrote a roommate agreement?”

I didn’t miss his sardonic tone. “That might not be a bad idea. How long has it been since you had a roommate?”

“Not counting my ex, the last time was when I was a student.” Micah handed me a goblet. “We’ll make up the rules as we go along.”

We went into the living room, and I sat down on Micah’s sleek leather sofa. He watched me, his eyes kind. The wine swirled in my glass. I wondered if I shouldn’t start rationing the dwindling supply of bottles I had brought from my family’s winery. For me it was all about the wines. The taste and smells, the look of the labels, it was all part and parcel of me. I wondered what it would feel like to buy my family’s wine in a store like the customers did.

Just thinking about what Harry Spice’s manipulation was doing to my parents sent my mind into conjecture mode. Would they want to listen to me telling them I didn’t steal from them, or would they save themselves the trouble and slam the door in my face? They already believed something was amiss, or they wouldn’t have locked me out of the accounting program. If I went to them, would I be able to stand seeing my mother’s face, disgusted and wounded, or my dad’s unwillingness to look at me? Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! My little voice shouted. Stop wondering. Stop the speculation. Just stop.

“What are you thinking?” Micah asked.

“Faith will be gloating.”

“Probably, but that’s not what’s on your mind now. You’re thinking of calling your mom and dad. Don’t. Don’t make them tell you to go away. They’ve suffered enough.”

I put my hand over my mouth and closed my eyes. “Is there ever going to be an end to this?”

“Yes, when you start acting like the warrior I know you are.”

My temper flared. “I’m an English professor, not a warrior. I have a pen, not a sword.”

“That’s what you do, not what you are.” Micah touched me under my chin.

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