Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 59671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“You didn’t just find me.” She smiles. “We’ve been married for eighteen months, El.”
“And what a perfect eighteen months it has been, it isn’t that long, is it?”
“It is.”
“Feels like a minute.” I exhale heavily, I knew this conversation would come one day and to be honest, I’ve been dreading it. “Don’t you like our life as it is?”
“I do.”
“So why change it?”
“I know you want children.”
“Maybe not.” I shrug. “Who knows what the future brings?”
She frowns and pulls out of my arms. “What?”
“I don’t know, I feel complete. I want for nothing; my life is perfect how it is. We travel whenever we want, we do whatever we want. We have no ties and I love the freedom of it being just us.”
She stares up at me.
“You won’t be able to just pop down here and paint for ten hours, having a baby would change ours and especially your entire life, and you need to really think about this.”
She nods. “You’re right.”
I kiss her softly. “I don’t need to have children. It’s not a must-have bucket list thing for me.”
She stares up at me as she listens, this is the first time I’ve been honest with her on this subject.
“My life feels complete, the day I married you everything clicked into place and I got a sense of finality.”
Her face falls. “You don’t think we are going to have children, do you?”
My heart sinks, I don’t.
“I’m not sure,” I whisper softly.
“What brought this on, is this your gut instincts telling you this?”
I stay silent.
She stares at me and then frowns. “You think that we won’t be able to have a baby and have made peace with it already, haven’t you?”
I stare at her, that’s exactly what I’ve done.
“Sweetheart, isn’t our family of two enough?” I ask.
She twists her lips, seemingly annoyed.
“We don’t need children to be happy, we’re already happy.”
“I know.”
“And just because having a baby is the normal for everyone else, it doesn’t mean that we have to do it.” I brush the hair back from her forehead as I look down at her. “Life is perfect as it is.”
She nods and stares into space, and I know I’ve lost her. Her mind is off on a tangent.
Or maybe she’s just pissed….
“We go to Paris tomorrow,” I remind her.
She smiles and nods. “Yep.”
“Why don’t you come up to the house and I’ll make us some breakfast.”
“I’m not really hungry.” She kisses me softly. “I’ll be up later.”
“Okay.”
She goes back to painting and I stand at the door and watch her with a heavy heart.
I want her to have everything in life that she’s ever wanted, but for some reason and I don’t even know why, my gut tells me this is the one thing we won’t get.
I can’t watch her suffer throughout the process; it will kill me.
I make my way up to the house; I’m going to make her breakfast anyway.
It’s a chocolate pancake kind of day.
Kate
Paris.
“You nearly ready to go, babe?” Elliot calls.
“Just a minute.” I call. I turn and look at my behind and then turn back to the front and stare at my reflection. Who is that girl in the mirror?
My hair is out and full and I’m wearing red lipstick.
My outfit consists of a black tight pencil skirt, black cashmere fitted top, patent leather sky high pumps and my gold Rolex watch.
Dressed in Chanel from head to toe, I’m hardly recognizable.
It’s weird, you know. When I first started dating Elliot I never thought I would dress this way, or ever own a fancy handbag. I thought that everything he owned was stupidly overpriced and wanky, don’t get me wrong, it still is. But little by little you get used to having money, to owning ridiculously expensive designer things. Elliot said something one day when we first met whilst shopping and it stayed with me.
If you give the paparazzi something to talk about, be it your clothes or your shoes or your watch …then they don’t talk about you.
And he was right, they’ve left me alone.
Elliot comes around the door, his eyes drop to my toes and back up to my face, he gives me a slow sexy smile and does a low whistle.
“Fuck, my wife is hot.” He steps forward, takes me into his arms and kisses me, his tongue brushing against mine. “Are you ready to go and sell some paintings Harriet Boucher?” He squeezes my behind in his hands as his lips drop to my neck.
I stretch my neck to give him better access and smile as his teeth graze my skin, “I am.”
We decided to keep the pseudonym Harriet Boucher, although we have let out my true name.
Elanor went to prison for eight months for fraud. She was forced to pay back the money she stole, although only half of it was ever recovered because she’d spent the rest of it. She’s going out with some famous Formula One driver now and seems happy enough.