Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
“Plus, even if I did know who these guys were, Rob was an utter piece of shit and videoed everything he got me involved with. He always made sure I was drunk enough to fuck like a slut, but grin like a whore, begging for more on the camera screen from whoever was offering it. Nobody would ever have believed me. I promise you, I was a very good actress. Rob made sure of it.”
“Still,” I insist. “We could do something. We could work towards justice.”
She squeezes my hand back. “I do a bit of local event organising for a charity group myself, but that’s all I want to do with it right now. The best thing you could do to help would be to get Ant to speak to me again. Even if it’s just once.”
“I’ll try,” I tell her, and I will do, even though I’m really not all that confident I’ll succeed, or all that confident Ant is anything like the boy she remembers him to be.
“Maybe this will help remind him how much I did love him,” she says, and heads over to the dresser in the corner of the room.
She brings back a photo in a frame, and gives it to me with a smile.
And my heart stops. Just like that.
The sickness in me rolls and lurches, and my world turns on its axis as I look at that damn picture in my hand.
There she is, the woman in front of me – Callie-Ann Bradstone with Ant sitting on her knee, smiling for the camera when he was just a boy. She has dark hair in the picture, in a jet-black wave down to her shoulders, and her smile is absolutely divine. Beautiful, and genuine, with a sense of familiarity that eats me up inside.
Because the woman in the photograph isn’t Callie-Ann Bradstone. Not to me.
The woman in the photograph is Cass.
You could ask a whole crowd of observers to spot the difference, and they wouldn’t stand a chance. You couldn’t tell them apart if you tried.
“What?” Callie-Ann asks, but I can’t tell her.
“I need to use your bathroom, please,” I ask, and manage to keep it together enough to close the door behind me.
Farewell service station lunch. I retch it straight up into the toilet bowl.
Cass
I could call Janie, or my parents, or Sarah, or Michelle, or even Gerwyn, and I’m sure they’d drive over here, bust their way through the gates and take me away, but I don’t. I can’t.
I love Ant too much.
My finger hovers over my mum’s number, but I don’t press to call. I couldn’t face having to tell her the story of what I’ve done and shatter every image they have of my amazing life, and amazing partner and all the dreams we’ve shared.
Fuck it. I toss my phone away.
I’m still hungover from last night. One massive drinking session where I did whatever Ant wanted, all over again. Unrelenting.
Still, I saw the disappointment he still has in me when he left for work again this morning. Only that’s not all that hurts, because it’s not just Ant I’ve disappointed. It’s Gerwyn too.
My hands are shaking as I pour myself a fresh coffee.
Gerwyn is so pissed off with everything that he couldn’t face staying around. He handed in his resignation at work yesterday, and wouldn’t even accept Ant’s offer of a relocation within Nevilles. He’s so revolted by what happened between me and him and us crossing the line, that doesn’t even want to work his notice period, and that hurts. Ant’s lost his best friend, and in a lot of ways it feels like I’ve lost mine. I loved him too.
Janie’s been reaching out to me via messenger, and I’ve been replying with one liners and smiling faces. She’s sent me some pictures of future brides smiling, giving me updates on what’s going on. I only wish I was there. It should be yoga tonight, but there is no way I’d be able to get through it, and Ant already has plans for a night together, with yet more demands for reassurance.
Are you sure you want this? Tell me you’re not lying to me. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Cass? I hope not. I hope you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did.
Call time out if you need to.
Call time out if you want to.
Your choice, baby.
Go back to Newton Road if our life together isn’t good enough for you.
I don’t actually have a key to the apartment in Newton Road. I hope Gerwyn will post it, or drop it with a neighbour once he’s got himself set up somewhere new.
Friday night was such a stupid mistake on my part. It was me who broke the barrier and kissed him. Me who was the one doing the betrayal. And if I hadn’t… if only I hadn’t.