Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
I showered, dressed, and left before Cathy arrived. The new concierge lifted his head as I passed but didn’t speak.
I drove to Kate’s, parked, and waited for Ava. She left at just gone eight, today in her car. She looked drained. I made sure I stayed well back as I followed her to her office. She parked at the NCP off Berkeley Square, and I parked in the next street, then waited for her to emerge before following her to Rococo Union. Then I took myself to the café and sat outside, settling in for the day. My new waitress friend faltered when she spotted me before handing me a menu and bringing me a water. I ordered a sandwich at ten and tried a bite. It wasn’t unpleasant, but my stomach refused to accept it. Is Ava eating? Looking after herself? At eleven, the decorators called me to let me know they’d started and proceeded to fire a load of questions about the designs. I told them to follow the drawings. Down to every tiny detail, just follow the drawings. At eleven-thirty, I’m reminded I still haven’t paid for Ava’s wedding present when the dealership emails me again. And at noon, Rolex calls to tell me her other wedding gift is ready.
Every time the doors to Ava’s office opens, I sit up straight. Every single one of her colleagues leave and return during the morning. Then at three, she walks out. I jump up and throw a twenty on the table, following.
She goes into the car park, so I rush to collect my car and wait for her to pull out. She drives to an address in Lansdowne Crescent and goes inside a house. A client? I park down the street, my eyes lasers on the front door, and after two hours, she’s driving back to Kate’s, looking exhausted. And she hasn’t contacted me once.
Wednesday is much the same as Tuesday, except Ava looks even more tired when she emerges from Kate’s. Had I not been so stupid, I could have saved her from all this. How can she think I’m better off without her? This is excruciating. Seeing her . . . but remaining so far away. I stopped off at Rolex after following her back to Kate’s. Forced a smile when the staff made a big, elaborate affair of handing over Ava’s new watch. I paid on my credit card and left, unable to even force a smile.
Ava doesn’t leave the office on Thursday, so my day is even more boring, exhausting, and uneventful. I now know my waitress’s name—Bianca—and she hasn’t called the cops on me yet, so that’s a win. I also had two bites of my sandwich today. The decorators I hired for The Manor are nearly complete, which is the only surprise of my day. They’re extremely quick, perhaps because of the exorbitant amount I’m paying them.
Dan, the sleazy fucker, was leaving Kate’s when I followed Ava home. I know Sam hasn’t heard from her because he’s been at The Manor—trying to move on, as he put it. And yet he’s not ventured into the rooms and he’s been driving by Kate’s. Has he seen Dan there? I don’t know what Kate’s thinking.
Today I brave going to The Manor to face John, but before I do, and perhaps to build up my courage, I head upstairs to the extension to check our new suite. I forget how to breathe for a few seconds when I enter. Incredible. It’s everything she created. Finally. Down to every detail, they’ve nailed it. And my heart becomes even more heavy.
“Alright, mate,” the electrician says, his cockney accent thick, a screwdriver held in his mouth as he fiddles with a light switch. “Some place this, eh?” He nods to the St. Andrews cross, grinning. “Someone’s gonna ’ave some fun, eh?”
“Yeah,” I back out, wondering as I head downstairs if Ava will ever see it. I can’t consider that. It hurts too much. Hope. I have to hope.
John looks up from my desk when I enter. Then down again. I put myself in the chair opposite him, fiddling with nothing on my knee. It’s clear he’s not going to break the ice. I’ve never gone so long without speaking to him. “How are you?” I ask.
“Fine,” he grunts. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
Silence falls again, and I chew my lip, waiting for divine inspiration.
“I’m giving her space like she asked for,” I go on. What am I hoping for? Praise? Affirmation?
“I know how hard that must be for you.”
Does he? I’m not sure anyone knows how much pain I’m in right now. How lost I feel. More silence. John’s glasses are going to melt off his face soon. “Ask me,” I say, seeing the questions swirling.
“You said you thought she was pregnant.”