Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
She’s not subtle.
“I don’t disagree with you. If it were up to me, Ellie would be here.” I know Nathan thinks I’ve given up. I haven’t, but I can’t force her to spend time with me. I can’t force her to love me back.
“Have you actually checked with your publisher that you being a practicing doctor is something they want?” Nathan asks.
“I don’t need to. It was practically the first thing any of them said to me.” I’d had conversations with all three editors, just as Mrs. Fletcher told me I would. All of them liked the fact that I was still working in a hospital.
“Could you drop down the number of days you do?”
I shake my head. “Already checked. Hospital says they’re already paying too much to locums.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, realization dawns. I sit up and swing my legs around so my feet hit the floor.
Nathan and I speak at the same time. “I should locum.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Can you do a couple of days a month or something?”
“I can do what I want because I won’t be contracted,” I say. “I’ve got a mate from med school. Locuming is all she’s ever done because she’s A and E and hates night work, so she just takes day shifts that need filling. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it.”
“Saves you from doing a job you hate that keeps you away from the woman you’re in love with.” Madison’s absentmindedly playing with the hem of her jumper—no one would ever know she’s completely hit the nail on the head.
What am I doing? I’m forcing myself to do a job that makes me miserable and it’s the cause of the breakdown of my relationship.
“Fuck it,” I say. “Even if I can’t locum, I’m handing in my notice. I’ll tell the publisher my girlfriend’s moving to France and I’m going with her. If they don’t like it…I had three fucking offers for that book. If they don’t like it, I’ll find someone who does.”
I stand, ready to take action, but I’m not quite sure what my next move is. I don’t want to ambush Ellie and call her to tell her. But at the same time, I don’t want her to think me resigning is some kind of leverage to get her to take me back. No, I’m resigning and moving to Paris. It’s a done deal.
Thirty-Four
Ellie
I deliberately didn’t bring much, but it seems a bit pathetic that I’m confident I can live with what’s in the two suitcases I brought with me.
At least I have a view. Of Paris.
I glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows to an unmistakably Parisian street. The wrought iron Juliet balconies, blue oblong street signs, the boulangerie on every corner. Yes, I’m definitely in Paris.
It’s wonderful.
And it’s lonely.
I miss Zach.
I’m furious at myself. He was the first man I’d cared for since Shane, and I had to go and fall for him in such a short space of time.
I unzip my suitcase and start to pull out what I’ve brought with me. It’s mainly clothes, but of course I have paperwork, toiletries, and the keyring I bought in the general store on the Isle of Rum.
I hold it up to the light. It’s just a grey, polished stone with slivers of white quartz running through it. Simple but beautiful. I pull out the keys to my new flat and transfer them onto the keyring. The ring itself is sprung so tight that I break my thumbnail, but eventually I manage to slide my new keys on.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out. My face flashes with heat and my stomach burns when I see the name.
But without thinking, I answer it.
Because I’ve never said no to Shane.
“Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.” His voice is a wave of cold water, cooling me instantly, turning me to stone.
“Why are you calling me?”
“A favor really. I’ve gotten myself into a mess. Fifi is…you’ve probably heard, she’s pregnant.”
I hadn’t heard but I feel nothing. I’m numb. Has he really called to tell me this?
“So?” I ask.
“So she can’t handle all the admin anymore. Pregnancy brain, she says.” He pauses. “To be honest, she was never as good as you with that stuff. And now she’s pregnant. She’s going to be busy with the kid. I’m not going to be able to handle everything.” He pauses. What is he waiting for? Congratulations?
“I need you to come back.”
My stomach heaves and I stagger to the sofa and perch on the arm. He can’t be serious. He can’t be asking me this. Not now. Not after everything.
“Obviously we’d need to sort out salary and that kind of thing. I’d pay you fairly—although, you know there’s less money in this game than there used to be. You know the job. You’re good at it. It’s the perfect solution for both of us.”