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)
‘Is that Annie Ryan?’ a male voice asks from behind me, pulling my attention around. I find a strapping bloke with a cute smile on his face, leaning against a nearby table. And I see thighs. Thick, rugby player thighs.
‘Tom,’ I say, trying not to make it sound like a question. This is the last man I slept with before Jack. Jason’s friend of a friend.
‘Well done,’ he teases. ‘How have you been?’
‘Good, thanks. You?’
‘Can’t complain.’ He indicates my empty glass. ‘Drink?’
My blazing fury gets tackled from the side by the unexpected potential opportunity that’s fallen at my feet. I thought alcohol was my only escape. Maybe I was wrong. I disregard the full bottle I’ve just placed on the table. ‘Why not?’ I say, smiling. ‘Sauvignon, please.’
‘Small? Large?’
‘Large.’
Tom heads for the bar and orders while I fight back the stupid part of my fucked-up mind that’s telling me not to do something that I’ll regret. It’s not really that hard to disregard it. My only regret right now is putting myself in an affair. I remind myself that I’m technically still single. I’m technically free as a bird to do what I want, when I want. I’m not the married one. If Jack can have his cake and eat it, then so can I. I look across to the dance floor where Lizzy and Nat are throwing themselves around like the drunken fools that they are, and catch both their eyes. When Lizzy grins, and Nat gives me double thumbs-up, I know they’ve clocked Tom. They think I’ve been celibate these past four months. They’ll physically put Tom in bed with me if they have to.
I accept my drink with a smile of thanks as I reacquaint my eyes with Tom. He’s handsome but rugged. His nose has clearly been broken a few times, and he has a tidy scar across his brow bone. His hair is short but styled, and his neck thick. ‘How have you been?’ I ask, getting the conversation started as he perches on Lizzy’s stool.
‘Great, actually. I’ve been in Scotland for the last year at a training academy for kids.’
‘Sounds good. But you’re back?’
‘It was a year-long programme at one of the league clubs. We’re starting one here at Twickenham next month.’
I nod. ‘So you play rugby, then?’
He laughs. ‘How’d you guess?’
I shrug and place my glass on the table. ‘Must be the cauliflower ears.’
‘Hey!’ He reaches over and lightly punches my jaw. ‘I wear a head guard.’
I smile coyly. ‘I’m teasing. Sounds like a great job.’
‘It is. What do you do, Annie?’ He takes a swig of his pint, grinning. ‘We didn’t exactly talk much last time I saw you.’
I return his grin, remembering the night well. It involved lots of alcohol and laughs, and ended with very drunken sex. ‘No, but we did a lot of something else.’
‘I tried calling you after.’ He watches me closely. ‘Why did you give me your number if you didn’t plan on taking my calls?’
‘Work kind of took over my life.’
‘I thought maybe you were involved with someone.’
‘No.’
‘And are you now?’
I swallow and breathe in deeply. ‘No,’ I say clearly, evenly and with one hundred per cent conviction.
Chapter 19
Don’t ask me what I’m doing because I couldn’t tell you. It’s the story of my life these days. All I know is that I’m in agony inside and I’m hurting all the more because deep down I know I have no right to feel betrayed. My mind is a wild mess of questions. I feel deceived. It’s a crazy claim. Maybe this is karma. Maybe the Fates have decided that Annie Ryan doesn’t get to be happy. She doesn’t get to have what she desperately wants because she lied and cheated to try and get it.
I get out of the cab outside my flat, Tom following closely behind. He slams the door and it echoes in the night air around us. We had a little moment outside the bar, nothing too much, just a look, but it was enough for him to ask if I wanted some company, and enough for me to say yes. As I walk up the path, I question what I’m doing and what good will come from it. I have no answer. I’m retaliating because I’m hurt beyond comprehension and it’s making me self-destructive. I slip my key into the lock, push the door open and let Tom follow me in.
‘Nice place,’ he says, shutting the door behind him. ‘You been here long?’
‘Just a few months,’ I reply over my shoulder, making my way to the kitchen. ‘Tea, coffee, alcohol?’
‘Whatever you’re having.’
His answer gives me a moment’s pause as I flick my eyes between the kettle and the wine glasses. Seems stupid that something as simple as a choice of drink could pave the way for the rest of the night. ‘White okay?’ I ask, taking down two glasses.