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)
I really don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.
Chapter 17
The days running up to Colin’s launch pass by surprisingly quickly, thank God; most of my days are spent at Colin’s gallery, checking over the installation of the roof and having building control pass it. It’s been chaos there, the decorators and landscapers working through most of the nights to get everything done on time so the launch can go ahead. It is a push, all hands on deck, but we scrape in just on time.
I stop off at the Tesco Express to pick up a bottle of wine, planning my night ahead while the cashier rings it through. A soak in the bath. A glass of wine while I get ready. I have a taxi booked for eight, so I have two hours to slowly preen before I head back to the gallery to celebrate its opening. Stuffing my bottle of wine in my huge slouchy bag, along with a bottle of fizz for Colin, I pay and get on my way, rootling through my bag for my keys when I make it to my front door.
‘Hey, Annie!’
I frown at the wood before me, my grip on the key becoming hard. I recognise that voice. I don’t want to recognise it, and for a fleeting moment I hope I’m hearing things, but as I slowly turn and look over my shoulder, my hopes die. My muscles tense, and the bracelet that Jack gave me starts to burn around my wrist. I glance down, worried, checking that the sleeve of my trench coat is concealing it.
‘Hi, Stephanie,’ I say, tugging my key from the lock, but not before I’ve got the door open so I can escape quickly once we’ve had our pleasantries. What the hell is she doing around here? In particular, outside my flat? Panic begins to consume me as I slowly turn to face her, trying to clear my face of all guilt. She’s pristine as always, her lips blood red to match her long nails. Those fucking nails. I want to cut them off with a hacksaw.
‘I’m parked just down the street,’ she sings, pointing down the road. ‘Jack’s dry cleaner’s is out on the main road, and it’s a total bitch to park there.’ She holds up a suit bag. ‘I knew it must be you.’
I give her a strained smile. ‘How are you?’ I ask, my mind in chaos.
‘Oh, fine. Just running a few errands. Jack needed this for some work thing he’s going to tonight.’ She rolls her eyes, and I just smile, a rabbit caught in the headlights. ‘Got any plans?’
‘Just drinks with some friends,’ I blurt, breaking out in a sweat. Fuck, does she know it’s Colin’s launch night? I should have mentioned that I’m going. Why didn’t I mention that I’m going?
‘Don’t get too drunk.’ She laughs hysterically. ‘I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to let my hair down. Jack and I are out for a nice dinner and a few cocktails.’
‘Sounds great. I hope you have a lovely evening.’ I’m lying through my teeth, of course. I actually hope they have a blazing row and Stephanie realises there’s a serious lack of love coming from Jack’s direction. And she leaves him. Problem solved.
‘Oh, we will.’ She rearranges her bag on her shoulder. ‘Hey, we must do lunch sometime. How about next week?’
I smile tightly, alarmed. What the hell? ‘Sure,’ I murmur, edging into my front hall. ‘That would be nice.’
‘Great.’ She makes off down the road, waving as she goes. ‘Lovely to see you, Annie.’
‘You too,’ I call, then shut the door and fall back against it, utterly exhausted. Shit, I need a drink. She was so bloody happy, and the unreasonable part of my brain is asking if she and Jack are getting on all of a sudden. I can’t think that. I rush to the kitchen in search of the wine and pour as I dial Lizzy, needing to talk to a friend to take my mind off . . . things, even if that friend doesn’t have a clue what’s going on in my life. Distraction. ‘Hey.’
‘Bonjour!’ she answers. ‘Comment allez-vous?’
‘Why are you talking French?’
‘Because I had a French client in today, and oh là là, is he something pleasant to look at.’
‘Ooh, French, ah?’ I sip wine as I make my way to the bathroom to run the bath.
‘Hot as fuck.’
‘Did you make your attraction known?’
‘He’s married. Restricted zone.’
I swallow down my wine on a hard gulp, thanking the Lord I’m not having this conversation with Lizzy face to face. I must be bright red and radiating guilt from every pore. I place my wine on the side of the bath and flip the taps on. ‘Damn shame.’
‘Not for his wife.’ She laughs, and I force myself to laugh too. I swear, my phone is heating up with me. It’s burning my ear.