Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I’m devastated about what I’m about to do—for the way I fucked up everything.
If I were going to prison for life, I would be happier than I am right now.
I stare at a small droplet of beer that has spilt next to a coaster, and I release a shaky breath.
“Did you organise a honeymoon?” Spencer asks softly.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Scotland.”
“How long are you going for?”
“A week.” I sip my beer.
We all stay silent and stare straight ahead.
“Any luck, she’ll fuck a Scotsman and ask you for a divorce,” Seb offers.
I nod without emotion, and I close my eyes in regret. Another wave of nausea rolls through me. I’ve been throwing up all morning.
“Don’t do this, Masters,” Spencer begs. “This is the worse fucking decision you’ll ever make.” Seb and he exchange looks. “She trapped you, man. She’s after money. Just give it to her. Give her fucking all of it.”
My eyes rise to meet his. We’ve had this conversation a million times. Even my parents have begged me not to go through with it.
“I’m not letting another man bring up my child,” I tell them sadly.
“So, you’re sacrificing your whole fucking life for a baby that you don’t even know?” Spence snaps in disgust.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I can stand next to you and watch you do this,” Seb says, his voice monotone.
I get a lump in my throat. “That’s okay. You guys don’t have to come if you don’t want.”.
The driver arrives at the front door of the pub. “We need to get going for the church or we’ll be late,” he says.
I nod, watching as he disappears out the door.
My heart begins to hammer in my chest.
“Let’s just fuck off,” Spencer splutters, his panic rising. “We can go to the states. Yeah. We’ll live there and you can send her money.” He shakes his head. “Just don’t fucking do this, Masters.”
I drag myself off the stool
Beep, beep.
I’m snapped back to the present by the car honking its horn behind me. I look up to see the traffic lights have now turned red, meaning I’ve completely missed them.
I’m on my way to work. The horror of my younger life has been playing heavily on my mind this week. It’s as if I’m back there, dealing with it all over again.
The lights change, and I click into first gear to floor it.
I can’t go back there again.
Not now. Not ever.
Brielle
I’m sitting on the sofa as the movie plays on the television. It’s Thursday night—date night—but we’re home. I didn’t get my email invitation this week and that hurt. Sammy is snuggled up beside me while Will is lying on the floor. Julian is sitting in his wingback chair with his book, uninterested in what we are doing.
It’s been a week since we had our fight about marriage and babies, and we haven’t discussed it since. I’m too scared to bring the subject up.
Julian has pulled away from me.; the force field is back up. His heart is locked safely back into the freezer, never to be defrosted. I know he’s scared, terrified that he’s going to be trapped in a loveless marriage again.
But that marriage would be to me, and it hurts that he doesn’t trust me enough to let himself fall.
Maybe he will. Maybe he will come to me any day now, and the two of us can sit and openly talk about it. He can explain why he feels the way he does. But until he does, there’s a huge elephant in the room, in our bed, everywhere between us.
“I’m going out with the boys tomorrow night straight from work,” he says quietly as he continues to read his book.
I turn and watch him until he looks up at me, and I raise a brow in question.
“Mother will have the children, so you can go out if you wish.”
“I don’t want to go out.”
His eyes hold mine. I just want to scream and call him a coward, but I’ll only push him further away.
“I won’t be late,” he says after a moment.
I nod and turn back to the television. The lump in my throat hurts again as I try to hold in my tears. I can’t stand this. Screaming, yelling, or anything would be better than this.
My mind goes to Alina. Is this what she dealt with? The silent treatment?
While he fucked prostitutes on the side.
Stop it.
I close my eyes in disgust. Stop thinking about her. This is different. He loves me. He wouldn’t do that to me, I know he wouldn’t.
Would he?
I kiss Sammy on the head. “I’m going to bed, baby.” I stand. “Goodnight, Will,” I say.
Julian doesn’t say anything.
“Night, Brell,” Will and Sammy call.
I walk into my room, get into the shower, and I cry.
I can’t stop thinking about Alina and worrying that we’re falling into that same pattern. He’s hardly touched me in a week, and we haven’t made love once.