Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
His sigh is loud and exasperated. “What is with you lately?” he asks. I wonder that myself. “How bad?”
“Well, he won’t be touching Ava again.”
“How bad?” he growls.
“He might have a few bruises around his neck.” He’s lucky I didn’t break his fucking legs.
“You said you’re about to do something monumentally stupid.”
“I want to find him and finish the job.” That’s not a lie; I do, but Ava’s dickhead ex is the least of my problems at this precise moment. The fresh air must have worked because now I’m wondering what the fuck I’m doing calling John.
“Get some sleep,” John sighs. “And for the record, nothing could be worse than you turning to the bottle again.” He hangs up, and I laugh under my breath. If only he knew.
I drag myself up and plod back to my bedroom, crawling into bed next to Ava. She’s moved from her back to her belly, her hair a beautiful mess over the pillow. I get as close as I can to her, my nose nearly touching hers. Her eyelids are flickering. She’s dreaming. I smile and stroke her flawless cheek. “What are you dreaming about, baby?” I whisper, hoping it’s me. “Tell me what you’re dreaming about.”
She murmurs something inaudible, her nose wrinkling as she turns her face into the pillow, smearing her makeup all over it before settling again. I resume tracing the contours of her face. “Don’t fight him,” she croaks, her hand coming up and taking mine, pulling it away from her face. I lean back slightly. She’s frowning. “Accept him.”
I swallow, remaining still and silent, waiting for more. Accept him. Fucking hell. Even drunk and unconscious she’s still trying to convince herself to stick around. I roll to my back and cover my face with the crook of my arm, her words bringing on a barrage of memories, each one a good enough reason all on its own for her to reject me. A reason for her to run.
Drink. The Manor. Tuesday Night. Uncle Carmichael. Lauren. Rosie. Sarah.
I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to dull the sting at the backs of my eyes. I’ve never felt so hopeless yet so full of hope. Leaning over, I place a soft kiss on her lips. “I can’t let you leave me,” I whisper, stroking down her arm and taking her hand. “I’m sorry.”
I get up and head to the kitchen, snatching up the pill packet on the counter. I go to the sink, popping each pill out of the foil, ignoring my conscience—which is currently asking me what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t know. I have no clue. Yet . . . I can’t stop. I can’t let her ever leave me again. I can’t go back to those dark, purposeless days. I need purpose. Ava is a purpose. She’s also a flight risk.
I look at the pills in my palm, hovering over the sink. Being a father was the best thing that ever happened to me. How it happened wasn’t, but those three years I had with Rosie are the only three years of my life that I’ve been alive. I won’t fuck it up this time. I swear, she’ll never be replaced. Not ever. But I can love like that again. I look over my shoulder. I’m already loving like that again. Yet Ava isn’t guaranteed. I have to ensure she is. I inhale and tip my hand, sending the pills scattering in the bowl, and I run the tap, washing them away, watching each one disappear down the plughole one by one. “God forgive me,” I murmur, discarding the packet in the bin, tugging out the liner and tying it.
Then I stand in the middle of the kitchen, looking around me, searching for the sense I need to take back this craziness.
No sense.
Just more craziness.
Keep her.
I drop my head in my hands, gripping my hair harshly. I’ve officially gone too far. And yet, I know I will go further. As far as I need to. As much as it takes.
I won’t lose her, because despite this craziness, it’s respite too. It’s light where there has only ever been darkness. It’s genuine smiles when there have only ever been false ones.
It’s love when there has only ever been loathing.
This is the beginning of my life.
And there can never be an end.
19
I watched her all night long. Apologized a million times. Tried to convince myself to take back what I’d done. But I can’t. Short of crawling down the plughole and somehow miraculously retrieving those pills, there’s no going back.
I leave Ava in bed and take myself downstairs. My first port of call is the fridge. I grab a jar of Sun-Pat and sit myself on the worktop, taking solace in my vice as I check my phone. Three missed calls. Two from Sarah, one from John. I ignore Sarah, I’m not speaking to her, and call John, holding my phone to my ear by my shoulder so I can continue eating my breakfast.