Page 111 of Beautiful Chaos

“I get that you’re not into spending unnecessarily, but these women, they are dealing with tough times. They’ve both taken on extra work to cover expenses since they lost their dad recently. Getting them to do the cleaning isn’t just about the job, it’s a way to help them make ends meet.”

A rush of pride came over me as I closed the distance between us, I threw my arms around his neck completely satisfied with his reasoning.

“This right here is why I love you. You get me.” I turned to face the sink and started rinsing dishes and stacking them.

“I told you Doll you don’t have to do that.” He said confused.

“Just because you are helping them by paying them to do a job, it doesn’t mean we can be slobs.” I smiled sweetly over my shoulder.

I sensed the intense scowl he was likely directing at me.

“Um, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I want to make sure I get my…”

Before he could finish, I interrupted,

“Jasper, if you’re about to say, ‘get your money’s worth,’ I just can’t even deal with you right now,” I said, throwing my head back to laugh, drenching my shirt and the floor from the water in the sink. I picked up a dish towel and threw it at Jasper’s head.

“You dry this up while I get changed, I wouldn’t want to be indecent when the housekeepers show up.” I looked up to Jasper who had at least a foot on me in height, “please.” I added at the end innocently. I headed to our room to freshen up and dress for the day. Glancing back, I noticed Jasper gaping at me with his mouth wide open.

I didn’t find it necessary to put a bra on this morning when I threw on Jasper’s white button-down dress shirt. Since he is tall it hung low enough to cover me, but now I had water dripping down the front of it the shirt pressed against me exposing all my curves, and my nipples that peeked through the fabric were now puckered from the cool fall air, it didn’t leave much for the imagination. I would die if anyone other than Jasper saw me this exposed. Suddenly thinking about the guards outside, I picked up my step.

I was thankful that none of the guards were in the house, all but one man who had been placed on gate watch, Jasper met them at the front door when they returned with our coffee, he first handed out tasks and sent them away.

I was nearly in my room when I spotted a door open. Through that door was a set of stairs going straight up to what looked like a third floor. So, I walked that way out of curiosity. I didn’t notice the door opened when I got up this morning and no one had been upstairs since Jasper, and I had been in the kitchen.

I took the stairs one at a time, curious about where they led. Once I reached the top, it opened to a large room with only one tiny triangular window. In the middle of the room, was an old-fashioned hope chest, and a little wooden desk. Next to it were boxes that seemed to be stuffed with diaries or journals. Each one was labeled by a year. The first one was from 1990 and went through to 1998.

I picked up the last journal and rubbed my hand over the dust caked on it from years of storage. I didn’t notice at first but the design on the cover wasn’t printed, it was hand-drawn. The design was little doodles of hearts, flowers, and swirls. It looked like something a teenage girl would do when she had a crush on a boy. Very adolescent.

I looked around the room, it was cold and vacant of anything other than the items in the center. No photos or decorations, nothing to personalize the space. It was strange, something about the placement was off setting, there was so little up here in such a large space when the rest of the house was fully furnished and decorated so elegantly.

lost in thought, I sat at the old desk, the chair creaked as I put my weight on it. I opened the top drawer not really looking for anything specific. In it were several pencils, and a pen set that had initials on it. The other drawers were locked. I’m sure I could have managed to open them if I tried, but it wasn’t appropriate for me to do that. I picked the journal back up debating on peeking inside when a deep voice startled me causing me to drop it. The journal echoed loudly across the empty room as it fell to the dust-covered floor.

“What are you doing up here?” Jasper demanded in a tone I didn’t recognize. His eyes were dark and confused. His expression was blank.

“I.I… I was looking. The door was open. I was curious… I’m sorry. I can go.” I got up terrified of the angry man that took over the Jasper I knew so well. He grabbed my wrist as I tried to walk by him, squeezing harder than necessary causing me to wince at the pressure that nearly caused pain.

He must have read the fear in my expression because he immediately softened, and his grip loosened.

“Did I hurt you?” He looked down at my scarred wrist, then brought it to his lips to press a small kiss on it before releasing it.

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect to find anyone in my mom’s personal space,” he said, sounding regretful. I gave him a nod and instinctively rubbed my wrist, holding it to my body for comfort. I turned to walk back down the stairs when Jasper’s voice rang in my ears with so much emotion that it stopped me in my tracks.

“Stay, please don’t go. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

Chapter 78

JASPER

Ifinished cleaning up our breakfast mess, Harper would have had a fit if I left it like I wanted to. Walking down the hall towards mine and Harper’s suite, I noticed the attic door was open, and my steps quickened. The attic was Mother’s personal space. She used the attic as a safe space whenever things got unbearable with my father.

When I reached the staircase, I took two steps at a time enraged that anyone could be in the space that me and Mother spent so much time alone in. It was there that most of my fondest memories took place.

The attic was mostly empty, but it was hers. My father never let her decorate or bring much up there. I asked my mother why it was so bare one time, and she gave me an excuse of there being too many steps to bring furniture up but later through my own observations and eavesdropping on one of their arguments, I found out it was because he was controlling.

He didn’t want her to have her own space. He said it was a woman’s place to clean and look after the children, or child in my case, not to sit isolated writing her stupid stories. My mother loved to write, she spent hours and hours writing fairy tales. Fantasizing a perfect life, one she never got to see come true before life was stolen from her, from me.

When I reached the last step, Harper was sitting in the chair at the old chipped wooden desk. She had one of my mother’s many journals in her hand.