Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Anger surges through me, and I throw the ring as hard as I can over the cliff.
I watch it bounce from the rocks and disappear into the night. Emotion overtakes me, and I sob, my breath quivering with every breath I suck in.
“Happy New Year. Happy fucking New Year.”
26
Charlotte
Fourteen hours earlier
I look up at the board and I read the dreaded words.
Flight delayed.
“No.” I turn to Anthony. “It’s delayed.”
“Fuck.”
“Find us another flight, please,” I say as I begin to panic. “Why did I send that damn letter with Wyatt?” I whisper angrily. “What on earth was I thinking?”
“Please try and call Wyatt again. He can’t deliver it. He just can’t.”
“He’s in the air, he has no service.” Anthony shakes his head, silently saying I told you this ten times already before he disappears to the front desk to try and organise flights.
I drop to my seat with my head in my hands. I get a vision of my beautiful Spencer alone on his birthday waiting for me.
Why the hell did I take so long to get my shit together?
What the hell is wrong with me?
I don’t have my phone because I threw my SIM in the water during my delusional tantrum. Anthony’s phone isn’t working here as we are in another country, so I can only call Spencer from a payphone.
I’ve been trying for an hour but he’s not picking up. Presumably because he doesn’t know the number.
Anthony reappears, his face solemn.
“Any luck?” I ask.
“I can get us on a flight in another hour and a half.”
“Oh, great, do that.”
“But it has another stopover, so it will actually get us to Santorini later than the original one.”
“Oh my God. I’ve ruined everything,” I whisper in a panic. “It’s his birthday today.”
“It’s only early morning there. We’ll make it.”
“We won’t get there in time. You know we won’t.”
Anthony exhales heavily, and I know that’s his way of agreeing with me.
“Call my father. Send the jet. I need his plane urgently.”
“By the time it fuels up and gets here, the flight we’re on will be quicker.”
“Why the hell are they delaying all the flights?”
He puts his arm around me. “Just calm down. We have three hours until we board and then a fourteen-hour flight. You’ll have a heart attack before you get there at this rate.”
“This is a nightmare. No wonder people complain about flying commercial. I had no idea the delays were so bad.”
He smirks as he watches the flight board, and I know I just sounded like a complete spoiled brat. “I think you need a drink.” He sighs.
“No, what I need is to try and call Spencer again.” I march over to the public phones and get in line. This is all my fault.
Please pick up the phone, Spence. Please pick up.
Nineteen hours later
The cab pulls into the driveway, and a heavy sense of dread rests on my shoulders as I stare at the darkened villa.
I missed his birthday. Wyatt was still in the air when we boarded, so I couldn’t tell him not to give him the letter. When I wrote it and sent Wyatt before Sheridan came to me, I thought I was doing the right thing by setting him free—giving him closure to start the New Year fresh.
In hindsight, I was just so hurt at his past that I couldn’t think clearly, and I will never forgive myself for putting him through that.
I squeeze Anthony’s hand. “Wish me luck,” I whisper.
He gives me a lopsided smile. “Good luck.”
We get out of the car and I walk up to the front door. I turn the handle and realise it’s open. He’s here.
“Stay out here, please,” I whisper.
“I don’t thi—”
“Stay here,” I cut him off.
I walk through the villa. The small lamps are on, but the main lights are off. It’s just as I remembered it, only a lot sadder this time. He must be asleep. I walk into the bedroom but the bed is empty, still made. He hasn’t been to bed yet but his bags and things are here. I check the other bedrooms and then walk out into the living area.
He’s on the balcony. My heart begins to race as I make my way out there. It’s 4:40 a.m. local time, and the sky is just starting to brighten.
It’s eerily quiet. The fire pit has glowing red embers as the last of the fire dies out, and a bottle of scotch is empty on the table.
Spencer’s not here.
I walk over to the balcony rail and look down at the view over the cliff. All I can see is darkness as the sea breeze whips my hair around. For a long time, I stand and peer over the cliff.
I get a vision of him spending his birthday alone, and my heart hurts.
Wyatt.
I hope he’s with Wyatt. Yes. My hope returns. Hopefully Wyatt and him went out.