Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Chapter Fifteen
An hour has passed, and I’m still on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Just how did I get myself into this situation? What did I honestly think was going to come of going out with Julian Masters?
When we were at the hotel and it was just the two of us, things were safe. It was controlled.
It didn’t hurt.
I take out my phone and flick through Instagram and Facebook to try and take my mind off how shitty I’m feeling. Nothing works.
I throw my phone down in disgust. Ugh. I hate Facebook. It should be called Fakebook the way every idiot in the world posts pictures and shows off how good their lives are. All their gorgeous, caring boyfriends and husbands, babies, kids, they all seem to have everything I don’t. You never see anyone posting pictures saying ‘Oh, I went out with my older boss tonight, who, by the way, treated me like I was a stupid slut and embarrassed the hell out of me’ do you? I roll my eyes
Fake fuckers.
My phone beeps and I scramble to read the message from my mum.
Hi, Brell,
How’s everything?
We’re missing you.
I read it and tears fill my eyes. Before I even think about it, I’m dialing her number. She answers on the first ring.
“Hello, my beautiful Brell.”
“Hi, Mum.” The sound of her loving voice gets to me, and I instantly choke up.
“You okay, darling?”
I close my eyes. How does she always know when something is wrong?
I nod, even though I know she can’t see me. “Yeah,” I lie, despite my obvious tears.
“What’s wrong, Brell?” she asks.
I went on a date with a guy who is closer to your age than mine, who turned out to be a real asshole, and now I’m alone in this big, scary house with nowhere else to go. “Nothing, Mum.” I smile. “I’m just a bit homesick.” I twist the blanket between my fingers. “Everything will be fine in the morning.”
“Are you going out and sightseeing?”
“I am.” I puff air into my cheeks. “Emerson met someone.” “Oh, is he nice?”
“He’s dreamy. His name is Alastar. He’s Irish.” I smile. “He’s different.” She laughs. “And what about you? Any men in your sights?”
“No.” I frown. “All the men I meet are idiots.” I hesitate for a moment. “I’m like a magnet to them.”
“He’s waiting for you, Brell. Somebody very special is sitting and waiting for you to come along. Any day now, he’s going to show up.”
I get a lump in my throat. I used to always think that someone, somewhere was waiting for me, but I just don’t know if I believe that anymore.
I’m losing my faith in the male species day by day.
“How are you and Dad?” I change the subject.
“We’re good. Actually, we’re thinking of coming over for a trip.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yes, it wouldn’t be for another six to eight weeks, but we thought we might come and stay in London for a week and then go on to Prague.”
“Oh, could you? That would be so great.” My eyes fill with tears again. “I would really love to see you.”
“Are you okay, darling? You sound off. It’s Friday night. I thought you would be out.” “I’m going out tomorrow night with Em. She has a date tonight.” “Have you met anyone else that you can go out with?”
“Emerson’s flatmates are really nice. I guess I might start going out with them if Em really likes this guy. I’m not sitting around this big, old house alone, that’s for sure,” I mutter, almost to myself.
“And how’s your job going? Are you getting everything done that you’re supposed to be getting?”
My eyes widen as I remember the uniforms that are still in the trunk. The uniforms. Shit. “I am,” I lie. “Mum, I have to go, one of the kids is calling me.”
“Okay, dear. I love you,” she says lovingly. “I’ll get back to you about my trip.”
“I love you, too. Bye, Mum.”
I hang up and go down to the darkened garage. I kick my toe on something that’s sticking out.
“Fuck it!” I snap as I hop around. Pain shoots through me. I flick the light on angrily and go around to the trunk to take out the huge bag of jerseys.
Are you kidding me? There are at least two loads in here. I drag the big bag back into the house. The light is on in the garage, but I don’t care, he can pay the damn bill. Now, to top off a great night, I have to stay here alone and do his washing, while he has no doubt gone back to the work function to continue to crack onto the stunning redhead.
I shove the first load of washing into the machine and turn the dial with force. My blood has risen to boiling temperature.