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)
“Just hold me, baby,” I whisper. “Don’t leave me again tonight. I can’t bear it.” I gently stroke my fingers through his hair and up and down the length of his neck and gently kiss his forehead. I can feel his body relax. I feel that he, too, is suffering from inner turmoil and that he also feels better just having me near. I haven’t truly relaxed since I was in his arms on Sunday night, and it feels good. It feels like home. Truer words have never been spoken—he is my medicine and just having him near makes me feel better.
I continue to run my fingers through his hair and down his neck. His regular breathing notifies me that he has drifted off to sleep—he must be exhausted. He’s so tired. Has he not been sleeping well either? A tingle of unease runs through my body as I realize that the man I have with me tonight is a different man to the one I met on Sunday night. The Sunday night man was dominant and confident and in control of his emotions. The man asleep in my arms is gentle and broken and I feel a surge of protective instinct over him. This is the beautiful Josh I remember. The one I fell in love with. He obviously has two very distinct sides to his personality. One strong and one weaker, as we all do I suppose. I myself have two sides: I am strong in every part of my life except when it comes to him.
I wake with a start as the pain in my arm throbs; it’s gone to sleep. I must have fallen asleep. Josh is still out cold and asleep in my arms. I smile and gently kiss his forehead again. I slowly peel myself out from under him and head to the bathroom. En route to the kitchen I walk past the foyer and see his phone and keys on my side table. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it, I walk over and pick up his phone and swipe it on. It’s unlocked. Shit. I look around, I shouldn’t be doing this. I feel like a naughty kid. I go to his messages, the last message he sent being to Ben at 10:45 p.m.
I’m at my girl’s. Do Not Disturb
I smile, am I his girl? A frisson of excitement runs through me—he makes me feel like a schoolgirl.
I put a key to my apartment on your key ring.
Please use it
xxxxx
I scroll through the next few messages between us.
11:15 a.m. to Adrian.
Get me a coffee while you’re out.
I keep scrolling through, nothing interesting here.
Monday 7:30 a.m. from Adrian.
Are you expecting a text from Cinderella?
Huh, Monday morning, that’s after he left me. Was he waiting for me to call? Surely not. I frown, that’s confusing. I exit the messages and go into the images. There is a photo of me asleep. I’m naked so it must have been Sunday night. Hmm, happy with that shot just quietly. Then there are five photos of me from the wedding in which a face-splitting smile breaks my face. A photo of Adrian sticking his finger up at the camera, obviously unimpressed. Ten photos of horses and then there is a photo of a beautiful blond girl with one of the horses. Who the hell is this? Maybe the photo is of the horse. To my dismay, the next photo is of the girl on her own, smiling. She’s…stunning. It’s a natural shot taken outside, maybe on a picnic blanket. Another few photos of horses and then another photo of the blonde, on a boat this time. What the fuck? Who is this girl? He told me he doesn’t date. Was he lying? Going on picnics and boat rides is definitely a frigging date in my books. There are a total of twenty photos on his phone and this girl makes the cut and now I can’t even ask who she is because I’m not even supposed to know she exists.
I click out of the phone in disgust with myself. I tell my clients every day, “Don’t snoop because you will only upset yourself. If you don’t have trust in a relationship, then you have nothing.” What a crock. I get my glass of water and drink it at the sink while I calm myself down. She’s probably a friend. My gut instincts tell me otherwise. What an idiot, why did I do that? I amble back to the bedroom and walk around to Josh’s side of the bed. As I go to switch off the lamp I see Joshua’s clothes on the floor. I pretend I don’t notice and go to pull back the blankets.
“Pajamas off,” he says darkly. I smile and raise my eyebrows. “From now on, our bed is a pajama-free zone,” he breathes.