Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
At the coat rack, I can already hear Becca’s disappointment when I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my wallet, but I’m left with no other option. Back in the living room, I start pulling out ten-pound notes until I run out. “Ten, twenty, thirty, forty…and a fiver. Here. Forty-five quid. That’ll keep you at the pub for another few hours.”
Mollified, his top lip draws up in the corner like a pound-shop Elvis. “That’ll do me, son.”
Son. The word sounds corrupt on his cracked lips. Standing, he practically snatches the cash from my hand, smiling at the notes in a way he’s never smiled at me, and walks straight out of my house with no more than a “Catch up soon.”
At last, I can relax. The armchair seems tainted somehow, so I fall back onto the couch instead, raise the recliner. Is everything really going to be okay? Have things gone from doomed to great in a single day? Now that I’m alone, I decide the pressure in my chest is nerves. It’s trying to swell into excitement…but it can’t. Not yet. Not until Becca knows, until she supports the decision. After all, it is her decision, too. I’m going to be gone a lot. She’s gone a lot. Are the kids ready for that?
Are we?
Are we strong enough to survive this?
Chapter Three
William
One week later…
I love these moments. Waking up with Becca in my arms, her head on my chest, waiting for her to stir. I’m going to miss it this week. Miss her.
Her skin is warm against mine, her breath tickling my chest. I like the contact, the closeness of another person. I stroke along her back, find the action soothing. Peaceful.
“Mmm…” Her soft morning moan vibrates against my skin. She cranes her neck, looks up at me. “Morning,” she breathes. She looks happy. Content. The sex last night probably contributed to this. I couldn’t leave without giving that to her. And it was…nice.
Smiling, I kiss her forehead, hold her tighter. Despite showering before bed, I can still smell notes of vanilla from her perfume. It never quite leaves her. “Morning.” I feel a jab of grief knowing I’ll have nobody to say morning to tomorrow. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” I ask for what must be the hundredth time this week. “I mean…the kids—”
“The kids are practically adults. Hell, Lucy is an adult. As for Ben, now his licence has arrived, he’ll be too busy focused on driving to miss you,” Becca says, chuckling at the last part. “And with this job, we can afford the lessons. You’ll be home on your days off. You can FaceTime every day. Think of the retirement we’ll have, babe. You’ve worked bloody hard all our lives for a chance like this. So, yes, I do think it’s the right thing.”
Hmm.
“We might even be able to finally save for that cruise we’ve always wanted to go on,” she adds.
You’ve always wanted to go on. I hate the sea, ever since my dad let me swim out too far at Formby beach and I convinced myself I was going to drown, but Becca’s talked about going on a cruise for years, since her friend Gill spent a month sailing around the Mediterranean. “Yeah. That’d be nice,” I agree, because that’s what I do. “And you don’t think it’ll change us? You know, being apart?”
Becca’s head jerks back, eyes narrowed, before she pushes up on her arms and scoots to my level. Her face appears inches from mine, nose to nose, her palm pressed to my cheek. “Will…” Her lips smile around my name. My favourite smile. “You could spend the next twenty years away from me and it wouldn’t stop me loving you. You’re still that same best friend I fell in love with at fourteen. You’ll be that boy until the day I die. Forever and then some, remember?”
There she goes again. Always knowing what to say. She’s my best friend, too. “I remember.” I will never forget the extra vow we made, just between us on our wedding night as we lay in bed in a cheap hotel up in Scotland. Due to my age and sad excuse for parents, we’d needed to cross the border to get married without consent. My forehead drops to hers. “Forever and then some.”
It’s nice to have breakfast with the kids before I leave. It’s not often they’re both home at the same time, at least without rushing to get out the door. Although, I’m not sure whether to feel relieved or insulted that they don’t seem too bothered about my imminent departure. Dropping the crust of my toast on the plate, I glance at my children, who are paying no attention to me whatsoever.
“I wasn’t expecting bawling tears but, come on guys, not even a whiff of a sad face? Not so much as a sniffle? Are you going to miss me at all?”