Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“Where’s Mum and Dad?” I ask, going to Grandma.
“Your mother’s in the kitchen and your father’s at the office.”
“He’s supposed to be retired.”
“Hello!” Clark yells from the hallway, the door slamming soon after. He appears in his suit.
“Look how dapper he is,” Grandma sings as Grandpa pats the arm of his chair.
“Come, Clark, tell me about your day.”
I roll my eyes and leave Clark to talk business with Grandpa, passing him as I head to the kitchen. “Have you told my ex he can’t come to the wedding yet?” I hiss, scowling playfully.
“I’m working on it,” he grumbles.
“You’d better hurry up, it’s next week,” I remind him, entering the kitchen. “Whoa,” I say, coming face-to-face with a giant bouquet of peonies.
Mum turns from the stove, a wooden spoon in her hand. “They’re for you.”
I can’t hold back my exasperated sigh. Here’s me hoping Nick will give up, but instead he’s upped the ante. This bunch is double the size of all the other bunches.
Mum’s lips are a little pursed as she waves the spoon at the mass of blooms. “Maybe you should read the card.”
Guilt flares as I approach the bouquet, searching for the card amid the spray. “Mum, I take no pleasure from this.” I pluck the card out and open it. “I’ve tried to be considerate, but I think I’m just increasing his hopes.”
Mum turns and folds her arms over her chest, her body language saying everything I expect she wants me to hear. It’s not fair that they’re making me feel guilty too. I pull the card out.
Missing you.
“Shit,” I breathe, sighing and staring at the beautiful flowers. “Mum, I don’t love him.”
“They’re not from Nick.”
My head retracts on my neck.
“I helped at the shop again today.” She comes to the table, looking past me, checking for listening ears. “A man came in. Tall, extremely handsome, dark-blond hair to here.” She indicates her nape as dread finds me. “Fine suit, fancy black sports car parked outside. Imagine my surprise when he ordered the most expensive bouquet”—she points at the spray in the middle of the kitchen table—“and writes down your name and Abbie’s address for the delivery.”
Oh fuck. “Imagine that,” I whisper. “So instead of having them delivered, you brought them home?”
“Amelia,” she hisses quietly. “You’ve just dumped Nick to concentrate on your career!”
“What’s going on?” Clark asks.
“A man bought Amelia these. A man called Jude Harrison.”
“Oh,” Clark says, casual.
“You know his name too?” I blurt.
“Of course! I needed it for the order form.”
My arse hits the chair, my head going into my hands. “I’m a grown woman, Mum.”
“Is he why you finished things with Nick? Were you two-timing?”
“What?” I look at her, outraged. “No!”
Clark moves in and gives my back a supportive rub. “Leave her alone, Mum,” he warns gently. “There was no crossover.”
She gasps. “You knew about this?”
“Why are you talking like I’ve committed a mass crime?” I snap. “A man bought me flowers. That’s it.”
“That’s where you were, wasn’t it? When you didn’t come yesterday. And when you were in a Rolls-Royce, that’s his car.” She comes closer, her intrigue overflowing. “Or one of his cars. Who is he, Amelia?” she whispers.
“Mum, please,” I beg, looking at my brother for help.
His lips press into a straight line. “I’d get rid of these before Dad gets home,” he says, trying to exercise damage control.
“Yes, oh God.” Mum’s quickly in a dither. “He’ll know these aren’t from Nick. They’re too . . .” She looks at the huge bouquet, overcome. “Expensive.”
Clark snorts, and I slap his arm. “Shut up and help Mum hide the flowers.” I haven’t the energy to face my father’s interrogation.
“Yes, I don’t want to listen to your father’s grievances.” Mum starts flapping around the kitchen.
“Wish you’d say that to him,” I grumble.
“Oh, Amelia, you know what he’s like. Do you think I can change him now, after nearly forty years? He just wants what’s best for you.” She pushes out her bottom lip. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your mother.”
Best for me? I’m so tired of listening to it. “Because then I’m making you keep secrets from Dad, and I know you don’t like keeping secrets from Dad.”
Her shoulders drop. “Well, it’s not ideal, is it? Right off the back of your breakup with Nick. How did you meet him?” she asks, and I inwardly snort. “What does he do for a living? I mean, a Rolls-Royce, a fancy sports car!”
“Mum,” I breathe.
“Oh God, I don’t know what your father will say.”
“We’re not telling him,” I retort, sure. Not that I’m ashamed, I just can’t be bothered with a lecture and guilt trip right now. And besides, I don’t even know what there is to tell. You’re in love with him, idiot!
“I don’t know what the issue is.” Clark sounds as exasperated as I feel. “You both want her to settle down, get married, make babies and stews and soups. Maybe this is the guy she’ll do that with.”