Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I hold up my glass of fizz. ‘How’s your job, anyway?’
‘I work to live, Annie. I don’t live to work. I only think of pedicures, skin and nails when I’m at the salon.’ Lizzy joins me on the threshold of my new bedroom. ‘And don’t change the subject. It’s been one year, two months and one week since you got laid.’
‘That’s very accurate of you.’
Lizzy shrugs. ‘It was my twenty-eighth.’
I remember the night all too well, though his name escapes me.
‘Tom,’ she prompts, as if reading my mind, turning to me. ‘Cute rugby player dude. Jason’s friend of a friend.’
Cute rugby player dude’s thighs invade my mind. I smile, remembering the night I met Lizzy’s boyfriend’s friend of a friend, Tom. ‘He was quite cute, wasn’t he?’
‘Very! So why didn’t you see him again?’
‘I don’t know.’ I shrug. ‘There wasn’t anything there.’
‘There were thighs!’
I laugh. ‘You know what I mean. Sparks. Chemistry.’
She scoffs. ‘Annie, there’s never been sparks for you in the whole time I’ve known you.’
She’s right. When will a man appear and sweep me off my feet? Bamboozle me? Make me think of something other than my career? The only thing that gets my pulse racing is my job.
‘Have you sworn off men forever?’ Lizzy breaks into my thoughts. ‘Because Jason has plenty of friends with friends.’
‘I got bored of it all. Dating. The stress. The expectations. Nothing ever . . . clicked for me,’ I say dismissively. ‘Anyway, I’m too in love with my job and my freedom right now.’
Lizzy laughs, genuinely amused as she wanders into the room, peeking into the en suite. ‘Your freedom is being seriously hampered by an eighty-hour working week.’
‘Ninety,’ I reply, and she frowns. ‘I worked ninety hours last week. And I have the freedom to do that.’
‘But what about fun stuff?’
‘My job is fun,’ I retort indignantly. ‘I get to design beautiful buildings and watch them come to life.’
‘I’ve hardly seen you recently,’ she grumbles.
‘I know. It’s been crazy.’
‘Yes, that posh couple in Chelsea have stolen all your time. How’s it going, by the way?’
‘Great,’ I reply, because it is. But it’s one of the toughest projects I’ve undertaken. It took months of designs and negotiating to finally come to a compromise with the local authorities to build an ultra-modern, eco-efficient home. The hard work was worth every bit of effort. The cube house on the edge of the common has helped me towards the ridiculous deposit I needed for my new home.
‘They moved in last Friday.’ I make my way to the double doors that lead into the courtyard garden, picturing the small space bursting with green, a cast-iron table and a couple of chairs outside where I can enjoy my morning coffee. ‘Isn’t this perfect?’
‘It’s great,’ Lizzy says, following. ‘Me and Jason seriously need to think about buying rather than renting.’
‘Or building.’ I waggle a cheeky eyebrow at her. ‘I know an amazing architect.’
Lizzy scoffs. ‘We couldn’t afford you.’
I laugh and make my way inside. ‘Are you going to help me make my bed or not?’
‘I’m coming!’ she sing-songs, shutting the doors behind her.
Three hours later, after a trip to the shop to restock on Prosecco, we’ve cleaned, polished and washed everything in sight, attacking the bathroom too. The old claw-foot bath is sparkling, and Lizzy unpacked all of my toiletries and cosmetics while I made up my bed. It already feels like home. I peek in the mirror as I pass, seeing my dark hair is a knotted mess on top of my head. I yank the hair-tie out and let it tumble over my shoulders, combing my fingers through to rid it of knots. I blink my pale green eyes a few times, something irritating me, as I lean into the mirror to remove a few specks of dust from my lashes.
‘Don’t forget we’re out next Saturday,’ Lizzy reminds me, tying a black sack as she emerges from the bathroom. ‘Jason’s on a work thing, Nat is escaping John as he’s got his kid that night, and Micky is . . . well, he’s always free. So I want no excuses that you have to work.’
I wander to my bed and plump my pillows, pulling back the duvet ready to fall into it once Lizzy has left. ‘No excuses,’ I confirm.
‘Great!’ She drops the black sack with the pile of others by the door, brushing off her hands. ‘And what about your housewarming? We need to christen this place.’
‘It’s the Saturday after. I’ve invited a few new clients too.’
‘Does that mean no orgy?’
I laugh. ‘No orgy.’
‘Oh, okay. I’ll take care of snacks. You take care of cocktails.’
‘Deal.’
She squeals and throws her arms around me. ‘It’s perfect, Annie. You’ve worked hard for it.’
‘Thanks.’ I return her hug, breathing in the scent of the millions of candles we’ve lit.