Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
How could I not?
He looked virtually identical to my boyfriend, minus the stubble.
I didn’t know what to do, so just looked between a silent Julian and his silent brother, both of them staring at each other. I was hoping for a grand reunion, tears and hugs, but Julian looked choked up, confused, and his brother looked stoic, jaw gritted. He had a letter in his hand. The letter in his hand, no doubt.
“Are you going to let me into this shithole, then?” his brother asked him, without so much as shooting me a glance. “We’ve got a fuck of a lot to get talking about, don’t you think?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Julian
I stood before Michael as he held the letter in his hand, and my stomach rolled over. He was suited, fresh from the office, in the same style I’d been wearing myself for years, but he was a lot more muscular than I was. I was still gaunt in comparison, and I felt it. For a fleeting moment I was a shell again, fragile before his stare. Instinct. But no. I wasn’t a shell anymore. I was the total opposite.
And that was down to my princess. The girl looking between us with nervous eyes.
“I’ll, um, nip down and see Mum and Tom,” she said, and I held out a hand to her, ready to ask her to stay, but she shook her head, pre-empting me. “I’ll be back when you’re ready. Just call.”
She dashed off to grab her bag and phone, and I stood aside to let Michael in. It felt surreal to have him in this place, so at odds with every other environment we’d shared in our lives.
“I’ll see you later,” Rosie said, squeezing my hand before she went. I pulled her in to kiss her head as she passed me by, and my brother looked away.
In disgust. Pain. Shock. Maybe a combination of all three. He’d only ever seen me with Katreya, and our token, public facing gestures.
“I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” I said to Rosie, and she was off, closing the door behind her after a token wave to my brother.
Part of me wanted to grab hold of Michael and hug him tight. The emotion was already choking me, but Michael had never been an affectionate man, and neither had I. Any far off dreams I’d had of sobbing in beautiful reunion were already fading as the dawning reality kicked in. Michael was still Michael, and I was still me.
He was trying to stay composed, and I knew it. He was silent as I led the way into the living room. His jaw was still gritted as he looked around the place, scathing, no doubt still in disbelief. The decor of the apartment was most certainly a lot more grand than it had been on my arrival, but it was a droplet of extravagance in a world Michael had never known.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked him.
“A whisky, you mean? I’m sure you’ve got plenty. But no, thank you. I’m driving.”
We really had been separated a long time.
“I was thinking a coffee, actually. I have your favourite.”
“Not going to be downing the shots yourself, then? You really are full of surprises, aren’t you? If only we’d have known about them sooner. Honesty would have been the best policy.”
I stood still, shoulders tall as I kept my eyes on his. I saw my previous self standing there, guarded by a thick wall of ego, untouched. I’d thought I was so happy, such a success and a partygoer, with my seedy habits under the surface. I wondered if Michael had any of his own.
“I’m not going to be downing shots,” I said. “I haven’t been drinking. Not for a while. I’m sure I said that in the letter.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you? After everything else you’ve been telling us for years?”
I tried to make light of it. “I prefer a glass of champagne to five straight shots of whisky these days. You can believe me on that, I assure you.”
“Well. Things really have changed in that case, haven’t they?”
“Quite.” I pointed to the kitchen, beckoning him to follow me, but he cleared his throat and folded his arms, still clutching the letter tight.
“Some things haven’t changed in the slightest though, have they? What a sweet little thing that was that just skipped away. Another sleezy conquest. Shame I didn’t give you prior warning I was coming. You could have thrown her out before I arrived.”
His words pissed me off, even through the pain and the shame of what I’d done to him, and to my life in Oxford. Had he not seen the tenderness in the way I’d held her tight and kissed her head? Seemingly not.
“Rosie isn’t a sleezy conquest,” I told him. “She’s the very opposite.”
“What is she, then? The love of your life?”