Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“And they say the gays are dramatic.”
“I mean it. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for Gabriel. If he’d wanted to get married, I would have. For him. I just can’t imagine feeling that way about anyone else.”
“Give it time, sweet girl.”
Time wasn’t going to do it. Each day grew worse. It just created space where I replayed our conversations over and over in my head. It made me crazy wondering if I’d done the right thing by leaving. Should I have stayed and fought? Why didn’t I tell him I loved him? My heart grew heavier and heavier with aching for him. And Bethany.
I missed them.
“You’re getting maudlin,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. And it’s three hours before it’s noon and acceptable to drink. Even in Europe.”
“Should I send him a picture? We talked about this place.” If he and Bethany were here, we could have brought a picnic and a Frisbee and raced up the steps. Gabriel would have put Bethany on his shoulders so she could see out onto the city. She would love it here.
“I know, honey. But don’t do anything you’re going to regret.” He glanced around. “There,” he said, pointing at an ice cream stand in the distance.
“I can’t eat ice cream at this time of the morning.”
“It’s not an ice cream stall. It’s a souvenir stand. Let’s buy a postcard. You can write it with what you’d want to say to him and keep it until you’ve had time to think about whether you should send it.”
“Are you this sensible when you break up with someone?” I asked. I didn’t want to send a postcard. Or write one I knew I wouldn’t send. Getting in contact with Gabriel wasn’t the answer. He needed time to see if his family could be pieced back together. And I needed to give him that time.
“Nope. I’d be texting eleven times an hour and drinking in the shower in the mornings.”
I didn’t want to day drink. I wanted to make the most of the summer. Seeing Europe like this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and was the only kind of silver lining of an otherwise clouded sky. I needed to stay positive and make the best of things. “A postcard seems like a good option.” Even if I never sent it, there was something deep inside me that told me he’d feel what I wrote. He’d know I was thinking about him. He’d understand that I loved him.
Forty
Gabriel
It felt like we were about to begin a séance. “I hate this place,” I said to Dexter, trying not to shudder as I took a seat at the round table of the private room where we often ended up if it was Dexter’s turn to choose the venue for our regular evenings out.
He shot me a look. “It’s one of the best private members clubs in Europe.”
“Did you bring your cauldron?” Joshua asked.
“No,” I replied. “But I brought some eye of newt.”
“I think it’s the red velvet curtains,” Tristan said. “Or that low ceiling with the star cut into it. It’s part witch’s lair, part nineteenth-century Parisian brothel.”
“I have no desire for a spell or a prostitute, so like I said, I hate this place.” The lack of windows, the wooden paneling. The heavy velvet everywhere. It was claustrophobic and depressing.
“Well, we’re planning my stag night, so I don’t care if you like it here,” Dexter said.
“Vegas!” Tristan exclaimed.
“Speaking of twenty-first-century brothels,” Andrew chipped in.
“We’re not going to Vegas,” Dexter said. “Apart from it being a complete cliché, we all vowed never to go again after last time. Wherever we go, if you get arrested again, you’re staying in prison, Joshua.”
“That was a shit show,” Joshua said. “Vegas is a terrible idea. Tallinn?”
A collective groan echoed in our velvet cave. “Way too predictable,” Tristan said.
“What about Harry Potter world?” Joshua suggested. “We could rent the entire place out for the night. No one could get into trouble. It’s original.”
“Great idea . . . if this was my thirteenth birthday party,” Dexter said.
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “What about Peppa Pig world?” I asked. Arguably, that could mean an overnight stay at my place.
“Or Legoland?” Andrew said.
“Okay, okay,” Joshua said. “Message received. At least I’m coming up with ideas, even if they are all shit. Climb down from the cheap seats, get in the arena, and make some suggestions, Gabriel.”
Why couldn’t we just stay in London?
“Rome? Great food, great wine. Beautiful women,” Joshua suggested. “All that passion. God, I love Italian women.”
“This isn’t about you getting laid,” I snapped. There was no way I was going to Rome. “I’m vetoing Rome.”
“Have you heard from her?” Tristan asked.
I shook my head. I’d not asked Dexter where she was or what she was doing. And I’d only seen Hollie once since Autumn had left. I’d come close to asking after her, but I’d held myself back. There was no point. She’d been clear.