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)
“What supplies?”
“Things I was buying for you. Toiletries, mainly. She was clearly suspicious, and those suspicions were clearly pointed.” He sighed. “I’m truly sorry. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t want to shatter the quiet time. I thought it might wait until morning.”
But it wouldn’t wait until morning. It never would if it was Trisha.
“I’d better check my phone,” I told him, and got to my feet, scouting out the room for it. Coffee table, no. Side of the sofa, no.
“My apologies again,” Julian said. “Rosie, sit down. I’m sure we’ll have a window, no? I just wanted to make you prepared for her.”
I was still looking for my phone. Windowsill, no… Ah, there it was, on the cabinet by the TV, and it was flashing. I had a message waiting for me.
Damn it. It wasn’t one message, it was five. All from Mum.
Julian must have seen my face drop. He shifted in his seat.
“Are you ok, sweetheart? What is it?”
I sat back down and handed him my phone, messages on screen.
“Trisha never holds back,” I said. “Even the slightest whiff of suspicion and she’d have been all over it like a rash. Sanitary towels and my hand on a banister rail may as well equal criminal evidence for her. Certainly worth gossip.
Poor Julian had underestimated Trisha’s small-mindedness. He was horrified. He looked from my face to the phone screen and back again.
“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry,” he said again, and I felt shit for him. He would have had no idea how just a few short hours would lead to half of the estate speculating, not least my mum.
It seemed Trisha had done a good job with it. Mum’s messages were frantic.
Trisha saw you heading upstairs earlier, was that to Bertie? She saw Julian in the store and he was getting sanitary towels, and I know it’s your time of the month, Rosie. Be honest, are you up there? Are you fucking Julian?
Her last one said it all.
You are, aren’t you? So, are you coming down here or am I coming up there? Your choice, but you’d better make it soon. I just called in sick to work.
She’d sent it just twenty minutes ago, and she was still online. The tick came up next to her message as read, so this was it, she knew I’d seen it. Showdown time. Either in our apartment, or up here in Julian’s hallway. Which was it to be?
I looked at my hero, and he was so concerned for me that it made my heart sing, even in the looming chaos.
“Do you want me to be there with you?” he asked, but I shook my head and got to my feet.
“I can handle this. But it might be a long conversation, so don’t wait up for me. Get some sleep, because I likely won’t get any.”
He scoffed and rolled his eyes, smiling as though I was speaking the ridiculous for even suggesting it.
“Fat chance of that, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll be waiting up for you all night.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rosie
I’ll come down.
Those were the three words I sent before I got dressed and prepared myself. I didn’t know how it would go, or how tempers might escalate, or how the hell she’d react to me, but despite my stomach churning and nerves making my hands shake, I knew that I had to be truthful. On every level.
Julian was at my side as I brushed my hair in the mirror. “Are you absolutely certain you don’t want me to come with you? You only have to say the word.”
That sentiment meant so much, but I shook my head with a smile, turning into his arms for a hug.
“Thank you, but I’ll do this alone. I’ll be back up when I’m done, don’t worry.”
His eyes were so beautiful, so loving. “I hope that’s a pinky promise.”
“It’s more than a pinky promise, I promise,” I said.
And then I braced myself. Time to do it.
“Call me if you need me,” Julian said then dropped a kiss on my forehead.
“I will.”
And then he let me go.
My heart was racing and my hands were trembling as I descended the stairs.
I opened our front door and stepped inside without the pretence of a bag full of things. I wasn’t going to be pretending I was leaving Jenny and returning home.
Mum was waiting for me, sitting on the sofa without her phone in her hands for once. I could see she’d been crying. A lot. Her eyes were puffy and red, and I got a stab of guilt in the heart. I’d seen Mum struggling with her emotions to breaking point plenty of times before, but it wasn’t usually down to me. I was always the one trying to help her, not hurt her.
Her attention was all on me as I dropped myself down in the armchair.