Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
“It’s ok,” I say, as she takes another shuddering breath. “It’s over now.”
She blusters a bit, shrugging her shoulders like it was an overreaction on her part, but I don’t believe that. My eyes are on hers, searching for signs that’s she’s truly being coerced into the unthinkable. She loosens up with a smile, and one simple word comes from her mouth – and that one word says everything.
“Thanks.”
I want to storm upstairs and warn off those pieces of shit with everything I’ve got, but Cass doesn’t need that kind of explosion right now. She’s still shaking in solid little waves, so she could definitely do with something sobering to drink.
“I’ll get you that coffee,” I tell her, but she reaches out and takes my hand. Her grip on my fingers is so heartfelt that it takes my breath.
Her smile is beautiful as she looks at me. “I’ve missed you.”
I get another lurch in my stomach, but this isn’t the time to be thinking about that. All that matters is how she’s feeling. The fact she’s still gripping my hand says she needs that comfort far more than caffeine, so I take her other hand.
“Cass, Ant can be persuasive and I know it. He wants what he wants, and that’s just fine, as long as you want it too. But if you don’t…”
My words clearly make her uncomfortable. She tries to laugh it off, but it makes my heart thump.
“I do want it too. I just… tonight was a bit much. I drank too much champagne. My bad.”
“It’s not your bad at all.”
It’s Ant’s, I want to say, but I don’t. Not yet. That will only make her more uncomfortable, and she’ll brush my concerns away with more defence.
She takes a few deep breaths and closes her eyes, and it’s a relief to see her relaxing. Her shoulders loosen and her tension eases a little, the colour coming back into her cheeks as she returns to herself. But her hands stay in mine.
Her eyes sparkle at me when she opens them again.
“I mean it, Gerwyn. I really missed you.”
I chuckle along with a smile, because I feel so awkwardly consumed by her sentiment.
“Same here. I missed you too.”
“I’m really glad you’re home.”
Home.
“Thanks for the surprises,” she adds. “I’m really looking forward to a piece of cake.”
She looks around us at the huge display of balloons, still hovering on strings around the room.
“I love these gold ones,” she says, and reaches out for one at the side of the sofa.
That’s when the sleeve of her robe hitches up. I see the tattoo dressing and it knocks me sideways, because I know exactly the spot it’s on.
I make sure I’m smiling before I speak.
“That’s quite a statement piece, covering up your infinity loop. Did you get that done today?”
She tugs her sleeve up higher and shows it off, but her grin isn’t all that convincing.
“Yeah. Ant took me on a visit to a tattooist in Reading on the way back from my parents’.”
“A surprise visit, was it?”
“Yeah.” She laughs. “Quite a surprise gift.”
Gift. Interesting choice of word.
I remember the conversation we had, showing each other the memories inked onto our skin and the clear attachment that went along with them, for both of us. The idea of getting my roses inked over as a surprise gift gives me a stab in the heart, and it’s not just because it’s about Jo. It’s because the life experience that the tattoo symbolises belongs to me.
I take Cass’s arm, and have a look at the design through the film. It’s quite dramatic, and makes damn sure that every single hint of the previous design has gone.
“A sapphire necklace is one of the pieces of jewellery Ant got for me,” Cass says. “Quite symbolic.”
“Yes, quite.”
“It was time for my memories of Jack to go,” she tells me, but there’s a hint of sadness in her voice.
I shrug. “Sure. If it was time for you, it was time for you.”
She meets my eyes, determined to assure me.
“Yeah, it was time for me.”
I know I can’t push it. She doesn’t want to admit anything to herself, let alone admit it to me.
She pulls her sleeve down and tries to lighten the mood with yet another beam of a smile.
“How about that coffee?”
Coffee can go fuck itself as far as I’m concerned. I want to take hold of her hands again and tell her I’m here for her, no matter what. I want her to know that I’ll defend her against whatever bullshit she may need defending from, and I’ll be at her side. I want to ask her what the fuck Ant has got her tangled up in in that mattress room, and if she really likes it at all. I want to ask what happened today in the tattoo studio and how much choice she really had, not to mention asking how she truly feels about giving up the career she was so passionate about.