The Lost Daughter

CHAPTER FIVE.

Waking up the next morning, the first thing I do before even opening my eyes is immediately reach across the bed for Weston. Like it's instinct, like I've done it for years.

When I don't feel anyone next to me, I crack one of my eyes open and then the other. He's gone.

I try to fight the frown wanting to form on my face, I've never been needy before and I refuse to start now.

I sit up from my nest of blankets and pillows, stretching and yawning. There's no clock that I can see, but from the light filtering in through the windows I'm guessing it's about mid-morning.

It's when I'm finished rubbing the sleep from my eyes that I see there's a note placed on the pillow next to me.

When you're ready, meet us in the kitchen for breakfast.

Your brother,
Weston King

I run my fingers over the thick card stock, the loops and swirls of his signature. King. It's fits him, monumentally. I'm not so sure about me.

I place the note on the side table and reluctantly start climbing out of the massive bed, even as a part of me wants to slide back in and sleep for another few hours.

I swing my legs around so they hang over the edge, my toes sinking into the luxurious rug that's laid underneath the bed on top of the slate colored hardwood of the floor.

The splendor of the room in the natural sunlight streaming in from the open curtains inspires me to fully wake up to face the day and whatever may come of it. I'm itching to explore and that starts with leaving the relative safety of this bed.

When I'm standing, I walk around to my suitcase that's still sitting near the foot of the bed (I make a note to myself to sort out where to put the few things I do own later today) and root around for something to wear. I pick out a simple navy sundress, only slightly wrinkled from the journey.

The bathroom looks just as incredible as it did last night, or maybe more so now that I have more time to appreciate it all.

My eyes are immediately drawn to the walk in shower in the back corner. It's bigger than I've ever seen and made out of glass attached to the white marble. If it weren't for the shelving in the wall holding soap and shampoo, it would almost be invisible.

I walk over to it, taking cautious steps as if I'm scared I'll break something in here, and try to figure out how I'm supposed to turn it on. I don't see any knobs or even a shower head. Just a drain in the white floor behind the glass.

As I'm looking around the side where a few towels are rolled on a glass shelf next to the shower door, I see a small touch screen built into the wall.

I catch my bottom lip between my teeth as I slowly reach out to tap the surface. It lights up immediately, showing tons of settings for heat and water pressure and a bunch of other things I don't understand.

I fumble around for a while, sticking one arm inside to check the water now falling in a waterfall from the ceiling and using my other hand to test different buttons before I manage to figure it out enough to satisfy my needs.

After that, I step inside and I realize just how lacking every other shower I've ever used has been. The feeling of the hot water massaging maybe years worth of tension out of my muscles, leaving me relaxed and energized simultaneously.

There's a few different soaps, one smelling light and airy and a bit like strawberries that I use along with a twin pair of shampoo and conditioner that smell like mint stocked inside that I take advantage of, which leave my skin and hair feeling softer and smoother than I've ever felt it before.