Connor
By three o'clock in the afternoon, the silence in the white-and-gold mansion was starting to drive me up the wall.
Edward had vanished into his dad's study around two, draped in his laptop chargers, looking stressed about a three-hour video conference for my upcoming ambassador launch for his company. Demyan and Malia had taken Lia and Eli to their rooms for a collective toddler nap, and the house had settled into that eerie, heavy quiet that always made me feel like I was sitting in a museum.
I sat on the edge of the massive plush bed in Edward's room for twenty minutes, staring at the eight pillows. I scrolled through my phone. I checked the weather in Liverpool. I checked it in Edinburgh. Then I stood up, pulled my hoodie back down over my stomach, and decided I couldn't do it anymore.
I couldn't just sit around for a whole month waiting to be fed. I was thirty-four, not an invalid. If I stayed in this bed staring at the gilded ceiling, my brain would start doing laps.
