Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
It’s been two weeks since I left.
Two weeks without him.
I’ve moved into Emerson’s old apartment with Hank and his flatmate. I even went out at the weekend. I had a shitty time and came home early, but hey… at least I tried.
Julian comes through the front door. His eyes find me across the room and I frown and snap mine away. I can’t even make eye contact with him without getting tears in my eyes.
We haven’t said one word to each other since I left. Not one that isn’t about the children, anyway. Looking back I have to wonder if he ever really loved me.
He doesn’t seem affected at all. …I’m over here dying of a broken heart, and gasping for air, and he’s looking like he just stepped out of a Vogue modelling shoot.
He’s unaffected and totally in control.
My mind has started playing fucked-up games on me. Has he gone back to the brothel? The high-class hookers. His therapist—the one who sucks his dick without questions.
I’m going crazy. Today I even counted the condoms in his bathroom cabinet, just so I know if and how often he’s had sex.
Why am I doing this to myself?
I need to leave, but I just can't. As soon as I'm stronger I will. I promise I will.
I hug Willow and kiss her forehead. Then I kiss Sammy before I turn to Julian.
“See you tomorrow.”
He nods and rolls his lips. It’s like we don’t even know each other anymore.
Maybe we never did.
Julian
ALINA MASTERS
1984 – 2013
Wife and beloved mother.
In God's hands, we trust.
The rain pours down around my umbrella as I stare her headstone.
Trapped.
I’m trapped in a sadness so deep, I don’t know how to escape it.
Every morning she comes to my house.
Every night, I die a little when she leaves.
I read the words carved in front of me again.
ALINA MASTERS
1984 – 2013
Wife and beloved mother.
In God's hands, we trust.
I lean down and brush the dust from her name. I rearrange the pink lilies I’ve placed in the vase. I touch her face in the small oval photo, watching as she stares back at me, unblinking.
I step back and put my hands into the pockets of my black overcoat. I come here twice a week to pay my respects to a woman who gave me my children.
My wife.
A woman who was good. A woman who deserved a better man than the one she married.
I always blamed Alina for my sadness, but Brielle has taught me that my problem isn’t Alina. My problem is me.
I don’t know how to love a woman and not cause her pain. I see it every day. The look on Bree’s face nearly breaks me.
As I stand here, I can feel the blood pumping through my veins. My body is working, keeping me alive, but my heart has completely stopped. I exhale heavily. I’ve got to stop this.
I can’t go on feeling like the world is about to end.
I frown as a realisation dawns on me.
I need to do what makes me feel better. The only thing I know that works.
Half an hour later, I arrive at Madison’s, my therapist.
I always leave here relaxed. I don’t have to talk. I don’t have to think. I don’t have to feel. I walk through the front doors on autopilot.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith.” Hayley, the receptionist, smiles. “Good to see you back, sir. It’s been a while.”
“It has.”
“Would you like your normal room, sir?”
A frown creases my brow. “Yes.”
“Just go up to the penthouse and someone will be with you in a moment.”
I catch the elevator to the penthouse and pour myself a scotch. I stare out of the smoked-glass windows that overlook London.
I hear the door click behind me, and I close my eyes, already regretting what I’m about to do.
“Hello,” the feminine voice behind me says.
I turn to see Veronica, and my stomach drops. “Hello.”
She’s blonde and wearing a sexy black dress. She has a killer body—a body that has pleasured me many times before.
I sip my scotch with a shaky hand, my eyes holding hers.
She kneels in front of me and begins to unfasten my belt.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
She kisses my thigh. “You like that?” she whispers.
I stay silent.
Her hand reaches for my cock and she strokes it three times, I clench my jaw.
Her lips brush the end of me. My cock jerks in appreciation and I close my eyes in disgust.
I see a vision of Bree. My beautiful Bree.
No.
I step back from her. “Stop.”
She frowns. “I haven’t even started yet.” She crawls closer and I immediately step back again.
“Leave.”
“What?” She frowns.
“I said leave,” I whisper. I turn my back to her and zip my pants back up.
I need to get out of here. I grab my wallet and my keys, and then I rush from the room. I hit the button on the elevator three times to try and make it arrive quicker. My heart is racing and I’m losing control.