Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Brock points his finger in my face. “The sooner you fuck off back to America the better. I’m warning you. If you go near her again, you’re a dead man.”
“Go fuck yourself!” I sneer. “I’ll do what I want.”
Brock storms out of the kitchen. All three of us stay silent, and I kick the bin in frustration. Adrian’s eyes are the size of saucers.
“So, I’m guessing he’s the restraining order,” Ben whispers.
I shake my head. “No, he’s just a parking cop.”
“If he’s a parking cop who in the hell is the restraining order?”
I turn to face my friends.
“My mother.”
4
Natasha
There is only one thing worse than waking with a hangover. Hazy images of yourself from the night before. I look around the room to try and get my bearings. That’s right, I’m in my hotel room, alone. I trudge to the bathroom and stare in the mirror at the ugly raccoon looking back at me. The ugly raccoon who does a great impersonation of a dog on heat, on dance floors at weddings. I cringe as the memory of last night comes forth to my foggy brain. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Shit. What came over me? I put my head in my hands. Why in the hell did I drink last night? He must think I’m a total hooker. I couldn’t have appeared any easier if I tried. I feel like shit this morning. Hopefully he was drunk. Then he won’t remember me making a total fool of myself. One minute we were dancing, the next thing kissing. I tap my forehead as I remember and smile. What am I smiling about? A knock bangs on the door. Unfortunately, I know exactly who it is. I frown again as my brain hits my skull. Knock, knock, knock. “Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming.”
I open the door to a cranky-looking Bridget. She smiles a plastered-on smile.
“What happened to you last night?”
I turn, walk over to the coffee maker and flick it on. Coffee will help me with this conversation. I’m not in the mood for this shit. I stand with my back to her trying to look busy. If I look her in the eye, she will know without a doubt that I’m lying.
“I must have eaten something, and I couldn’t stop vomiting. I didn’t want to interrupt your night, so I just got a cab.” She stays silent as she listens to my explanation.
“Do you want coffee?” I ask, hoping she bought the blurb of lies I have just sent her way. “It was a nice wedding, wasn’t it? The bride looked gorgeous, didn’t she?” I’m babbling and talking way too fast. “What time did you get home?” I ask as I turn to face her armed with my caffeine.
“I went out with the Stanton boys. We went clubbing.” I nod, staying silent.
“Do you have something to tell me?” she asks with a raised brow.
“No, why do you say that?”
“I don’t know if you noticed, but I was at the wedding yesterday.” She rips her hair down from its bun with such force it’s a wonder she doesn’t scalp herself.
“Yes, I know,” I mutter.
“And I was on the dance floor last night.” Dread fills my stomach. “I’m waiting.” She continues to scowl at me.
“Why do you think I have something to tell you?”
“Because the Stanton boys all know what’s going on.”
“What?” I snap. “How do you know?”
“When I was with them last night, I came back from the bar and they were talking about you and Joshua.”
Holy crap, my eyes are the size of saucers.
“What did they say?” My heart rate doubles as I hold my breath.
She holds up her hand. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Was Joshua with you?” I ask, secretly hoping she has some info for me, something I can cling on to, anything?
“No, he left after the dirty dancing affair as well.” I put my face into my hands. “Cameron said I should ask you about it. He seemed shocked that I didn’t know.”
“Know what?” I whisper, my eyes wide. “You tell me!” she yells.
“Oh god, this is terrible,” I wail.
“Tell me,” she urges.
Again, another knock, thank heavens for Mum’s impeccable timing.
“Come in,” I yell a little too fast. Bridget scowls at me. I smile as I open the door.
“Hi honey, are you feeling better? I wish you would have come and gotten me last night. You didn’t need to catch a cab on your own. Why didn’t you just find me instead of texting me?”
“Yes, why is that, Natasha? It’s very unlike you.” Bridget scowls at me as she folds her arms in front of her.
“Come on, we have breakfast at the Stantons’.”
I am so not going there. How do I get out of this?
“I still don’t feel well. I can’t come, Mum, sorry. I don’t want to risk throwing up in public, or on Margaret for that matter.” The thought tickles my fancy and I stifle a smile.