Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I might. You guys go home. Hannah needs to go to bed.”
“You don’t want us to stay?”
“No. Honestly, as soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m going to be asleep. I’m emotionally exhausted.”
Juliet rubs my shoulders as she gives me a sad smile.
“Thanks for today, guys. You are the best friends.” I walk them both to the front door. “Can you call me, Jules, if you hear anything from Henley?”
“Of course I will.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Chloe asks.
“No, I’m fine. Thanks anyway.”
I watch them walk down the street, and I close the door behind them and lock it.
The house is suddenly eerily quiet, and I’m left alone with my conscience.
It’s lonely here.
I drag myself up the stairs and have a hot shower. For a long time I stand under the hot water and stare at the tiles on the wall. I have this weird sinking feeling. For weeks I felt that our relationship was going to end, and I’ve been dreading it.
But never in a million years did I think it would be at my hands.
The worst part is that I didn’t even tell him about the contract I signed with John yet. I’m still legally married to another man, and now that all this has transpired . . .
I put my head into my hands in shame.
Fuck . . . what a mess.
Eventually, I’m so exhausted that I can’t even stand up in the shower, and I drag myself out and get into my pajamas.
The house is quiet and empty and sad.
Tomorrow I’m going to make this better if it kills me.
Ring, ring. Ring, ring.
My phone ringing on the side table wakes me from my sleep, and I scramble to answer it. I tossed and turned all night and finally fell into an exhausted coma around 6:00 this morning. “Hello,” I answer.
“Hi, Bec, it’s Jules.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wanted you to know that the boys have decided to stay away for the weekend.”
I frown as I listen. “Is Blake all right?”
“I don’t know. I just tried to talk him into coming home, but . . .” Her voice trails off.
“What?”
“He doesn’t want to see you.”
My heart constricts.
“We need to talk,” I stammer. “I need to see him.”
“I know, but I think you just need to let him cool down for a while.”
I close my eyes in horror. The longer he cools down, the less chance we have of getting over this. “We need to see each other to talk this through.”
“He doesn’t want to see you.”
My eyes well with tears.
“Look, just take the weekend. Get yourself together. They’ll be home Sunday night, that’s only tomorrow, and then you can talk to him when he’s fresh and you both had time to cool down.”
“I have cooled down.”
“Yeah, well, he hasn’t, and it’s not all about you.”
Ouch . . .
“I know that.” I sigh softly.
“Do you want to go and grab a coffee or something?” she asks hopefully.
“No. I’m just going to go back to bed. I’ve not slept all night,” I lie. As if I could sleep right now. I’m just about to jump out of my skin with worry.
“Okay, go back to bed, baby. It’s going to be fine.”
“Juliet,” I whisper.
“Yes.”
“Do you think I was in the wrong?”
She stays silent on the other end of the phone, and I close my eyes once again.
That’s a yes.
“It’s not for me to decide who’s in the wrong. I love you both,” she eventually replies. “Go to sleep. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, thanks for everything.” I hang up the phone and flop back onto the bed.
Ugh . . . the day is not starting well.
I sit curled up on the window seat in my front room, rolling my fingers as I wait.
It’s Sunday afternoon, and I haven’t heard a word from Blake.
The rain has come down in buckets, and with every splash of water on the earth comes an overriding sense of doom.
He’ll be home soon, and hopefully we can talk. The ball of nervous energy in my stomach has me sick.
I go over my speech again in my head and hold the letter in my hand.
I couldn’t work out the words to say, so I’ve written him a long letter, hoping to try and explain everything that’s been in my head for the last few weeks.
Seeing it all written down in black and white hasn’t eased my stress; if anything, it’s escalated.
Because now I know how fucked up I really am.
My car comes around the corner, and I jump to my feet and run out the front door. It pulls into my driveway, and as it gets closer, my smile fades.
Antony’s driving it.
I walk out into the rain as he gets out of the driver’s seat. “Where’s Blake?”
He hesitates as his eyes dart around. “He wanted to stay at the hotel for a few more days.”