Page 39 of The Woman

Phoenix

I wake with the sun streaming into my eyes and the smell of coffee drifting into my nose. Hurrying to get up, I pull a shirt over my head and make my way down the hall to the kitchen, where I find Avery buttering a bagel. She has those short shorts on again, and I have to quickly avert my eyes when she turns to look my way.

I make a mental note to get her more clothes soon, perhaps even have her pick them out.

“Here you go,” she says, passing a plate to me. “Let me just get you a coffee.”

My lips purse. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I know.” She shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

She gathers her own breakfast, and then we both take a seat along the breakfast bar. We’ve done this many times over the past few weeks, but this morning is different with the knowledge of who she is.

Yesterday, she was nothing more than a companion I was forced to pick.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve been fascinated with her from the beginning.

She has occupied my mind daily, whether it was being curious about her behavior or simply wondering what she was doing while I wasn’t here.

I glance at her while she takes her first bite, and I’m reminded of her first mouthful of the burger I made her last night. Her eyes had drifted shut as a soft sound traveled through her throat. I had watched her until she swallowed, then quickly started eating my own when her eyes flickered back open. Her face was lit up as she devoured the rest, much quicker than I expected for someone her size. She claimed to have loved it, which pleased me.

“Do you have to go to work today?” she asks before taking another bite of her breakfast.

I blink, coming back to the moment. “No. Although I should still try to work on a project I’ve been having trouble with.”

Avery nods her head. “Do you like it – what you do?”

I regard her over the rim of my mug. “I do. I knew I’d be joining the family business at a young age, so there was never any other choice for me. I didn’t have to worry about figuring out what I wanted to do when I grew up.”

Swallowing, she lowers the bagel and then idly pushes it around her plate. “I wouldn’t know what any of that is like.”

I suppose she wouldn’t, would she?

“What interests you?”

Pausing her movements, she looks up, thoughtful for a moment. “I like music. Drawing. And writing.”

“Writing?”

“Yes,” she answers wistfully. “We were taught to read, but it was never necessary to have us write anything. I . . . I took some paper and pen from your office to practice.” She stares at me head-on as if daring me to react to it or get mad.

I give her no such reaction and face forward. “That’s fine.”

A few minutes of silent company pass as we eat, but as soon as Avery is done, she swivels on her stool so that she’s facing me again.

“You know what it was like for me at the facility. What was it like for you growing up?”

I chew slowly, thinking of what I do remember from my childhood.

“It was typical, I guess. School. Family social events. Learning the company.”

A huff sounds from where she’s sitting, and I angle my head to look at her.

“That doesn’t tell me much. Were you able to just leave your home and walk around by yourself? Did you spend time with friends? Did you–” Her hand waves around in front of her as she thinks of something else, “–ride a bike?”

My brows draw together, considering those things. “Bringing friends to my father’s home was discouraged most of the time, not that I had many. My grandfather always told me that other boys would want to be my friend because of who my family is, so I guess I was a little standoffish. Edison was in the same position, but he didn’t care as much about any of that and made friends with everyone, including me.”

“He’s the one you gave me to,” she acknowledges with a nod.

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