Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
“Okay darling, are you going out tonight?”
“Yes, just for dinner. Italian.”
“Sounds delicious. Have fun, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I close my eyes because damn it, times like this I just want to be at home with my family. Lying on my parents couch and eating all the chocolate.
But reality’s a bitch, I’m here in London, all alone.
“Bye mom, love you.”
The phone clicks as she hangs up and I go to the fridge, I guess I’ll just have to eat chocolate on my couch instead.
“What are in these cocktails?” I smile as I eye my glass.
“I don’t know. Good shit.” Jeremy shrugs.
We are at Belsito, an Italian restaurant in Kensington. It’s a trendy little place, not far from my house. Dinner was beautiful, dessert was divine, and don’t even get me started on how good these cocktails are.
It turns out that Jeremy and I have a lot in common. We’ve laughed and chatted, and we have not spoken one word about two certain people that we know. I know he’s not bringing up Bart on purpose, and I’m doing the same. I don’t want mine and Sebastian’s sordid details out there. I’ve only said we had something for a little while and it fizzled out. But I know he knows there was more. It’s awkward for both of us. I work with both the men, and so does he, so it really is a case of the less you know the better.
Although, I must admit, I’m kind of hating on Bart for the way he’s treated Jeremy. He deserves so much better.
“What have you got on tomorrow?” Jeremy asks.
I let out an over exaggerated sigh. “Boring crap. Housework. Washing and grocery shopping.”
“Yeah, same.” He sips his drink. “Have you heard from Garcia?”
“Nope, and I don’t expect to.”
A set of car keys come flying onto the table with force, causing Jeremy and I to jump.
“What the hell are these?” a voice growls.
We both look up to see Bart, his face red and furious.
Jeremy squares his shoulders, clearly preparing for battle. “What are you doing here?”
“Mind telling me why your Porsche turned up at my house on the back of a truck today?” Bart fumes.
“I returned it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want it anymore.”
“It was a gift!” Bart snaps.
“Then give it to your wife.”
Ouch.
Bart’s eyes bulge and then fall to me. Oh crap, he’s wondering what I know about the two of them.
“Umm. I’m going to get going.” I stand.
“Good idea,” Bart says, his eyes firmly locked on Jeremy.
“Sit back down.” Jeremy grabs my hand.
“No, I really need to go.” I bend and kiss Jeremy’s cheek. “See you on Monday.”
I take out my purse. Bart holds his hand up. “I’ve got it.” He slinks into my seat, not wasting a single second.
“Are you sure?” I frown.
“Completely.” He just wants me out of here.
“Okay, thanks.” I give Jeremy a wave, and he narrows his eyes at me.
Sorry.
I head outside to the taxi rank. The line is long, and thunder rumbles in the air. Fuck it, I’m not in the mood for this shit. I take out my phone and order an Uber. I cross the street away to wait for its arrival.
I can smell the rain as it comes, sprinkles and then heavier and heavier.
Damn it.
I wrap my cardigan around myself and peer up the street, letting out a defeated sigh. At least Bart is pursuing Jeremy and trying to make amends.
Polar opposite of my situation,
Sebastian doesn’t give a literal fuck about me.
He’s a douche.
But deep down I know he’s not. Only to me, which is worse, I guess.
I shake my head. I hate that I keep thinking about him. I’m going over and over the last week, wondering if I over reacted, trying to analyze his behavior and what it all means.
Fucker.
The car pulls beside me, and the window rolls down. “April?” the driver asks.
“That’s me.” I smile and get into the backseat just as the rain comes down.
I stare out the window as we pull into the traffic, glancing back at the restaurant to see if I can see Jeremy and Bart. I wonder if they’ll get through this.
I face forward again.
Oh well. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?
With my track record, I should be Godzilla by now. Strong enough to take down the world.
The car pulls into my street. “Just up on the left,” I tell the driver. I catch sight of someone sitting in a parked car when we drive past. I turn my head.
Wait, was that…?
The car draws to a stop and I climb out. “Thank you.” I close the door and squint my eyes to focus on the car.
What?
Before I can stop myself, I march across the road in the rain and knock on the window. Sebastian looks at me and winds it down.
“What are you doing here?” I snap.
“Stalking you. What does it fucking look like?”