Keeping My Bride by Angela Snyder
Chapter 13
Verona
THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up early, too early. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I was up before the sun. I take my time, stretching and relaxing in bed for a little while before going to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day.
After my shower, I go to the closet and sort through all the new clothes. It’s not that I’m not happy to have such nice, expensive things. It’s just that the things I owned were perfectly fine in my opinion, even if they weren’t good enough in his eyes. And now that he went through all this trouble of buying me new things, I feel like I owe him something. And I hate feeling that way.
After several minutes, I finally decide on a cute, blue summer dress. It fits me perfectly, and the material is so soft that it almost feels like silk against my skin.
I blow dry and straighten my hair and put on a little makeup. I’m just trying to kill time really. But when my stomach growls loudly, I decide it’s time to go downstairs. I don’t think the staff will have breakfast ready, but no matter. I can make something for myself. I’m completely capable of handling things on my own…right?
Trepidation follows me the whole way downstairs and into the kitchen. I wouldn’t consider myself spoiled, by any means. I would be more likely to say that I wasn’t given the opportunities that most people have in life. I wasn’t able to try new things or learn how to do even the most menial tasks.
My great aunt wouldn’t even let me step foot inside her kitchen. I swear she loved her appliances a whole hell of a lot more than me. No, scratch that. She didn’t love me at all. I guess I could say that maybe she loved her appliances more than her cats. Her cats were her babies, and they were the only ones who ever received any kind of affection from the cold-hearted woman.
The kitchen is quiet and empty when I enter. I flick on some lights and stare at the pile of dishes in the sink from last night’s dinner. I guess the housekeepers figured they’d tackle the dishes in the morning.
A smile graces my lips as I decide to give them a hand. I’m sure they’d be happy to have a little bit of workload off their plates for the day. Besides, they have to clean every room of this huge mansion, and I’m sure that’s time-consuming and tedious enough.
I walk over to the dishwasher and stare at all the buttons. I’ve never used one of these before, but the description of what each button does is plain as day, so I don’t think it will be too hard to figure out. Getting to work, I rinse off the dishes in the sink and carefully load them into the racks.
When I’m finished, I stare down at the door where it indicates that’s where the soap should go.
Looking around, I find a bottle of dish liquid sitting near the sink. Grabbing the bottle, I squirt the liquid into the large detergent dispenser and close the little lid. Then, I add a generous amount to the pre-wash side as well.
Satisfied, I close the front of the dishwasher and press a button to start it. “All done,” I say to the empty room, smiling. It’s not rocket science, and I figured it out on my own.
I’m feeling pretty proud of myself by the time I go to the fridge and grab a yogurt and a cheese snack for a quick breakfast outside on the patio.
I watch the sunrise as I eat, loving the way the sun slowly heats my skin in the cold air. After I’m done, I scoop up my trash and take it inside.
But as soon as I step foot into the kitchen, I know I messed up. Big time.
