Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
But please . . . not her.
Anyone but her.
Its 11 p.m. on Thursday night and I sit alone in the darkness.
I type:
Dear Ed,
How are you? I’m sorry, I only just saw your message from last week. I’ve been really busy.
We haven’t spoken in a long time, just checking to see if you’re okay.
Pinkie.
ox
I haven’t spoken to Ed since Elliot and I had words last Tuesday. He messaged me that night and I haven’t got back to him.
What would be the point? It would only make me feel more crap than I already do.
I mean, how much could I actually mean to him if he’s chasing a conversation with Pinkie, and yet being an asshole to me, the actual woman who he’s sleeping with?
It’s blatantly clear that I am last on Elliot Miles’s list, and I can’t pretend it doesn’t sting, because it does. More than it should. I knew the rules of this game before I started playing and yet stupidly, I jumped in anyway.
Hindsight, what a slap in the face you are.
This week has been taxing. I’m stressed out and being haunted by the prospect of getting an invite to my evil sister’s wedding to my dream man.
I mean, he isn’t really my dream man, but . . . he was mine first and this is my fantasy, bitch.
Back off.
Elanor told Brad that she had things underway with Elliot—what does that even mean? Is that code for she’s hooked up with him already in the past?
My stomach rolls at the thought.
Please no.
I see the dots, and my heart skips a beat. He’s replying.
Hi Pinkie,
I missed you.
All good here, nothing new to report. How is everything at your end?
How is your romance going?
Ed.
I exhale heavily. I can’t even tell him the truth, I can’t even let on who I am. I’m too deep in this lie now, but I guess there’s no reason to fess up right now, he’s not going to be seeing Kate in the future anyway. This isn’t good for me though and I do need to cut off from him completely, this can’t go on. I don’t want to hear about his future conquests . . . or fucking Elanor.
Ugh, kill me now . . . Imagine?
I lie.
Romance is great, he’s perfect.
I go to hit send and then I pause . . . and add:
How’s Kate?
I hold my breath as I wait for his reply. I know it’s going to be hurtful.
That was a stupid thing to ask.
Kate and I are over.
I close my eyes in regret and I type:
Why, what happened?
I was too attached to her.
I sit up in shock. What?
My heart beats hard in my chest.
What makes you say that?
On the first day back at work I hadn’t seen her for twenty-four hours and I missed her.
I didn’t like it.
My eyes widen . . . what the fuck?
Did you tell her?
No, I was angry that she had me like this after a week so I snapped at her . . . two days running, and I haven’t heard from her since.
I jump from my chair. What the hell?
Is that how he saw it? What will I write?
I begin to pace back and forth, wave my hands around as I try to think.
Umm . . .
Maybe she liked you too much.
Perhaps she was scared of getting hurt?
No, I’m sure that’s not it. I’m not wasting my time on someone who walks away over something so trivial. She wouldn’t even have a conversation about it.
It obviously meant very little to her, I don’t have time for stupid drama.
I’m done.
My heart drops and I slump back in my chair . . . Fuck it.
Damn it . . . you idiot, Kate.
He’s right, why wouldn’t I at least talk to him?
Fuck’s sake . . .
What the hell do I write now? Damn it, I hate how I can’t tell him who I am.
This is one colossal fuckup that has to stop.
I write:
That’s a shame, what have you got planned for the weekend?
Busy weekend planned. Moving into my new house tomorrow and then going to an art auction tomorrow night. I guess, unpacking all weekend.
What about you?
I puff air into my cheeks. I want to write . . . pining over you all weekend, but I refrain.
Nothing much, quiet one here.
Okay, I’m turning into bed, great to finally be in touch.
I missed you.
Goodnight.
Ed
Ox
I read through our messages again.
I was too attached to her.
I flop onto my bed.
He was too attached to me . . . Did I read that right?
I get up and read it again and again. No, I didn’t dream it.
It’s written right there in black and white.
He was scared . . . and maybe I was too?
A goofy smile crosses my face.
There is hope for us yet.
ELLIOT
I smile as I drive up the tree-lined country road. It’s green and tranquil with rolling hills. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”