Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“You’ve met someone?” She looked at my father then back at me. “You haven’t mentioned anything.”
“Well, she’s…someone I’ve gotten to know for quite a while, actually.”
Dad grinned. “Is she in the medical field, too?”
“She’s a nurse, actually.”
“I see.”
My mother leaned in. “Is it serious?”
“Well, technically, we’re not together, I suppose. But it’s…we’ve gotten close.”
“Would she consider a move across the pond?”
Mum could be very judgmental. I hesitated to tell her the whole story, because I knew she would go off on a tangent about Bridget having baggage, not being good enough for her precious son. I really didn’t want to hear all that.
I simply answered, “She can’t.”
“Why not?”
I braced for her reaction. “She has a son.”
My mother grimaced. “You’re seeing someone with a child? She’s divorced?”
“No. Her husband died in a car accident.”
My father nodded. “Sorry to hear.”
She went on with her questions. “How old is this woman?”
“Thirty-four.”
“She’s five years older than you?”
“Four, basically. And that’s not very much at all.”
“You’ve been spending time with this little boy?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re getting out now. You wouldn’t want him getting anymore attached to you.”
My mother’s assumptions were making me a bit defensive.
“He’s a great kid. I’d be lucky if he got attached to me, really.”
“Oh, Simon. Listen to yourself. You can have practically any woman in the world that you want. Your life and your family are here in Leeds. You can’t stay in the US with some woman, not to mention raising another man’s child. Don’t you want children of your own someday? She could be trying to trap you, you know. This woman is pushing thirty-five, she’s hardly—”
“Her name is Bridget. Not ‘this woman.’ Her fucking name is Bridget.” My pulse was going a mile a minute.
Fuck. I can’t remember the last time I swore in front of my parents. It was out of character for me. But my mother was really pissing me off.
“I’m sorry, Mum. Forgive my language.”
My father was much more easy-going. “Clearly, son, this situation is making things complicated for you. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision, and if your dear old Dad’s opinion matters at all to you, for what it’s worth, I think the right decision is to take the job.”
The following night, I met some of my old friends at a bar in London.
It had been a long time since I’d gone out drinking. The flashing lights, the loud music, and the crowd were making me a bit uneasy.
My voice became hoarse from talking too loud. Even though I was enjoying catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in years, I was finding it really difficult to relax.
I couldn’t believe I only had a few days to make a decision. It wasn’t just a matter of a job. I felt like my entire existence was riding on this, like I was at the biggest crossroads of my life. There were two incredibly different paths I could take, and the decision I would make in the next few days would impact me forever.
It was too much to handle. Abruptly saying goodbye to my friends, I left the bar feeling lost. I didn’t want to go back to my parents’ home, didn’t want to talk to them about this anymore, since my mother, in particular, didn’t understand my dilemma.
An hour later, I found myself at Heathrow Airport, boarding a short flight to a place I’d never thought I would have the courage to visit again. Somehow, I knew I needed to be there in order to make this decision.
Calliope’s parents no longer owned the Scotland lake house that we stayed at when Blake’s accident happened. So, I chose a small inn that was the closest in proximity.
Legend had it that this lake had its very own monster, similar to Loch Ness. I tried not to think about that. There were enough bad thoughts associated with it as it was.
Since I had arrived in the wee hours of the morning, I slept a bit at the inn before heading to the lake early to spend some time there. The plan was to fly right back to London early this evening.
I chose a spot off of the loch near the area where I remembered the accident happening.
Sitting at the end of a pier, I looked up at the sky.
“You’re probably wondering what the fuck I’m doing here now. I know I should’ve come a long time ago. I just didn’t have the bollocks to face you, really.”
Taking a deep breath in, I continued, “Anyway, I suspect you can see everything that’s been happening. I often wonder what you would think of me and of my decisions in life, if you’d be proud or if you’d be angry because I’m living life when you can’t.”
Straining to fight the tears in my eyes, I said, “That’s the thing, Blake. Whenever I feel happiness, it’s always bittersweet, because a part of me will always feel like I don’t deserve it. It should have been me or at the very least, I should have stopped us from going out on that boat. If I could change only one thing, it would be that. We could have done something else that night, lit a fire—anything. I would give my life to take that night back. I hope you know that. I love you so much.”