Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Ding!
I look down at my phone and see Jack’s name, and though everything tells me not to open his message, my stupid finger doesn’t hesitate to click down on that icon.
You don’t get to ignore me now, Annie.
A second later, my phone starts ringing, and I push myself away from my desk in my chair to put some space between me and it. ‘Go away, Jack,’ I whisper.
As soon as it stops ringing, I quickly dial Lizzy, breathing my way through my panic. I’m going to cave into his persistence soon. ‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘Fancy a coffee?’ I ask.
‘Sure. I just finished. Usual place, twenty minutes?’
‘See you soon.’
I spot Lizzy weaving her way through the tables up ahead, my eyes following her until she lands in the chair opposite me. ‘How’s work? Everything okay?’
‘Yes, it’s all fine. I hardly see him actually,’ I lie. This wasn’t the plan. I need distraction. I could never tell Lizzy I slept with Jack again, especially given everything she’s been through with Jason. I can never tell anyone. I’m a disgrace. A weak, pathetic woman. I also can’t tell her that I’m giving up Colin’s project. She’ll know why.
I plaster a smile on my face, feigning normality. ‘Besides, there’s nothing like a wife to realign things, is there?’
Lizzy laughs loudly, and for the first time I see the funny side. Because it’s actually quite fucking hilarious. I’m never overwhelmed by a man, and when it eventually happens, the bastard is married.
‘Doesn’t the sanctity of marriage mean a thing any more?’ I ask, truly exasperated.
‘More marriages end than survive.’ Lizzy picks up her teaspoon and points it at me. ‘And mostly because of infidelity. I had a lucky escape. I’m never getting married.’
‘Me neither,’ I agree, feeling like I’m subconsciously kissing goodbye to my happy-ever-after, as well as my dream project.
‘Fuck coffee,’ Lizzy says. ‘Let’s get pissed. Call the others.’ She grabs a menu and proceeds to order alcohol en masse.
‘Now?’
‘Yes, now. And hopefully you’ll get laid as well.’
She’s right. I need to get back in the saddle. ‘You need a good screw too.’
Her eyebrows jump up.
‘By someone other than Micky,’ I clarify as I grab my phone to call the guys, my mouth now watering in anticipation for the mojito that will soon be landing on the table in front of me.
Unplanned drinking sessions are the best. The fact that it’s on a week night makes it all the more thrilling. We’ve ended up in a beer garden in Camden; it’s 8 p.m. and we’re both tipsy. Not pissed, just a nice gradual state of drunkenness. We’ve talked about everything and nothing, my mind being perfectly occupied by alcohol and a dedicated friend.
‘I’ve missed this,’ Lizzy says, looking past me to a group of men at the back of the beer garden.
I follow her eyes and smile. ‘You’ve missed ogling men?’
‘No.’ She waves her wine between us. ‘This. You’ve been working so hard on your business, and I get that, but I’ve missed our girlie time.’
‘Me too,’ I confess, watching Lizzy plaster a knockout smile on her pretty face, obviously having attracted the attention of the group of men. ‘Hey, come on. We’re having a nice time without men,’ I point out, smacking her arm to win her attention back.
I look past Lizzy and see Micky stroll into the beer garden. I can virtually hear all the female hormones in the vicinity go potty. He laps it up and struts over. ‘Shit, how many behind am I?’ he asks, taking in our tipsy state.
Lizzy burps in reply, and I start giggling. ‘I’ll get more drinks.’ I snatch my bag up and head for the bar. ‘And keep your hands to yourself while I’m gone.’ I level a warning look at Micky, and he holds his hands up in surrender.
‘Reading you loud and clear.’
I make my way to the ladies’ to freshen up before heading to the bar to get our drinks in. By the time I’ve made it back to the garden, Nat’s found us too. Everyone cheers my return and dives on the tray when I place it on the table. ‘Wow,’ Nat chimes, toasting me. ‘It’s a school night and Annie’s not in her studio. What’s happened?’
I ignore her sarcasm and throw my arm around her shoulder. ‘Drink,’ I order. ‘We’re three ahead of you.’
‘To being single!’ Nat sings, and we all chink our glasses before getting our drinking session under way.
It was so needed – the alcohol, the friends, the limited space to allow my mind to venture further than the laughs being had in the pub garden. I feel normal again. Sane. Even if I’m smashed.
Micky drops me home in a cab at around eleven, the amount of alcohol I’ve indulged in evident as I zigzag my way up the path to my front door. ‘Hey, Annie!’ he calls from the cab. ‘Run in the morning?’