Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
My dad used to say that she was blessed by the gods. Even her birthmark is perfect, a small, pink love heart just below her ear high up on her neck. How is it possible that a birthmark is sexy?
Brad is more like me and appreciates the simple things in life. He’s a physiotherapist and has just opened his own practice here in London. He had a girlfriend for six years but they recently broke up. He said that they became best friends and the fire just fizzled out between them. I thought they were going to be together forever; the thought of fires fizzling out between two people so in love scares the crap out of me. If it could happen to them, it could happen to anyone.
“This is beautiful, Kate.” Brad gestures to his food. “It really is.”
“Thanks.” I try to make conversation. “The potato is Grandma’s recipe.”
Brad nods, too welled up with emotion to reply.
We usually hang out with our extended family, aunts and uncles and cousins. But three years ago, we decided to be on our own at Christmas, so if we wanted to be sad, we could. There is nothing worse than pretending to be happy when you’re dying a little inside.
“I’ve found a buyer for Mum and Dad’s house,” Elanor announces.
I frown. “We aren’t anywhere near selling, it’s going to take six months to clean out everything.”
“I’ve done it.”
“Done what?” Brad replies.
“Cleaned out Mum and Dad’s house.”
“What?” I frown again. “What do you mean?”
“It’s been six years, someone had to do it.”
“We told you we wanted to do it together.”
“Well, you two have been fucking around for forever.”
“Because we weren’t ready,” I stammer. “Where is their stuff?”
“Gave most of it to charity.”
I fall back in shock as my eyes well with tears. If she hit me with an axe it would hurt less. “Tell me you’re lying.”
“What good is it to us? I donated it all.”
“What?” I cry as I jump from the table. “How could you?”
“You better be fucking lying,” Brad growls. “We told you not to touch their house.”
“Somebody had to do it. I’m sick of waiting for you two.”
“Where are their things?” I cry.
“I told you, I donated a lot of it.”
I get a vision of all Mum and Dad’s precious belongings sitting in a charity shop. “Where?” I begin to cry uncontrollably.
“Calm down,” she huffs. “I kept the photos.”
“What about my things in the attic?” I ask.
“Gone.” She shrugs casually without a care in the world.
I think of all Mum’s cross-stitch and crockery, her clothes and all the things I wanted to pass down to my children one day, and I cry harder.
How could she?
“I cannot believe you would do this to us . . . Actually, I can,” Brad yells. “You think of nobody but yourself. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You know damn well Kate wanted those things.”
My chest is wracked with tears and I just need to get away from her.
I run upstairs to my bedroom and slam the door.
I can hear Elanor and Brad having the screaming match of all screaming matches and I put my pillow over my head to try and block out the sound of fighting.
It’s not supposed to be like this.
Merry fucking Christmas.
Hi Pinkie,
Merry Christmas,
How was your day?
I can hardly read his message through my swollen eyes. I’m not going to drag him down.
It was great.
How was yours?
I screw up my face in tears as I wait for his reply.
When I talk to him, I feel better.
Edgar Moffatt, my sweet distraction.
The only problem is our friendship isn’t even real.
Elliot only wants me for sex and I have to lie to Edgar for him to even talk to me.
I angrily swipe the tears away so I can read his messages.
I know it’s bad; my life is a mess.
My phone rings and the name Elliot lights up the screen, and my heart somersaults in my chest.
“Hello.” I smile as I answer it. I haven’t spoken to him since I called him to say thank you for my flowers a few days ago.
“Hi,” his deep, sexy voice replies.
“How are you?” I ask. It feels good to hear his voice. I mean, I message Edgar every day but he doesn’t know it’s me.
“I’m back in London.”
I frown. “I thought you were getting back next week.”
“I couldn’t wait to see you.”
My mouth drops open in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ll pick you up at seven tonight?”
I smile. “Okay.”
“See you then.”
He hangs up and I put my hands over my mouth.
Holy shit . . . he couldn’t wait to see me.
I stare at myself in the full-length mirror in awe. I’m pimped up to the nines and I like what I see.
Daniel has had a field day picking out my clothes for tonight—we shopped up a storm today. I’m wearing a black fitted dress with spaghetti straps and nude stilettos; my blonde hair is out and full and I have natural makeup on.