Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
‘I see,’ she says flatly. ‘Is he telling her about you?’
‘No.’
‘So what does he plan on saying then? She’ll want a reason.’
I look down at my feet, hating her coldness, but knowing I can’t expect anything more. She may have hugged me when I broke down last night, but that wasn’t a sign that she would go full-force into happiness for me. ‘There were cracks in their marriage before me, Lizzy,’ I say, my voice quivering.
‘Of course there were, Annie. There would have to be for Jack to look elsewhere.’
‘He wasn’t looking,’ I argue, not with any malice but as firmly as I can muster.
‘Whatever. My point is, many marriages have cracks, but when you take your vows, you promise for better or for worse. You forsake all others.’
I come to a stop on the street. ‘Is there a vow that states it’s acceptable to physically hurt each other? Do they make you promise to never scratch your husband or cuff his face?’
She doesn’t answer, and I sigh.
‘Lizzy, I didn’t call you to hear this.’
‘And I didn’t take your call to pump you full of reassurance,’ she retorts, making me wince. It also brings more tears to my eyes. I brush at them harshly, trying not to sniff and snivel so she can hear my sadness. I’m not looking for sympathy; I’m just looking for my friend. And I don’t think she’s here any more.
‘I understand,’ I whisper, cutting the call. My phone slips away from my ear into the centre of my hand, my arm falling heavily to my side. The tears are falling steadily down my cheeks as I pick up my stride again, and I can sense a few people looking at me as I pass them by.
And I accept that my world with a piece of Jack needs to slowly fall apart in order for it to be rebuilt again. With him. All of him.
With a coffee in my grasp, I wander over to Hyde Park. I walk the entire circumference before breaking through an opening in a barrier on Park Lane and strolling down to the Serpentine. I see Micky in the distance, just on the crest of a hill, squatting while shouting encouragement to a guy doing press-ups with a rucksack on his back. I sit on a bench and watch their entire training session, then remain where I am for another hour and watch him putting another client through her paces – this one Charlie. When they’re done, she gives him a hug, and he reciprocates. It seems so affectionate, something that doesn’t go hand in hand with Micky. Not with his conquests, anyway. He couldn’t have got her in the sack yet. He’s slacking; he’s been training her for months.
I had no intention of waving to attract his attention, but when he turns and starts towards me, I realise he’s probably known I was here the whole time. He’s all sweaty, the muscles of his arms glistening in the mid-morning sun as he approaches me. Offering a small smile, he sits next to me, but he doesn’t say a word. Neither do I. I’m scared to death of a repeat of Lizzy. Will I lose all of my friends in my mission to have all of Jack?
I feel his hand take mine and gently squeeze, and I glance to the side, finding him looking straight ahead. My eyes fall to our held hands resting in his lap. We don’t speak for an age, both of us staring out across the grassy planes of Hyde Park as the world goes by.
After a quiet eternity with unspoken words hanging between us, he pushes himself to his feet and bends to kiss my forehead. ‘I’m here,’ he says, and I look up at him, unable to smile or say thank you, but I make sure he sees the gratitude in my eyes. They’re full of water again, and he sighs as he wipes away a stray tear. Then he strolls off, leaving me on the bench.
I count three people who take a seat next to me over the next hour. One old boy for a rest, another man to eat a sandwich, and finally a runner to stretch. They all come, and they all go to get on with their lives. Probably simple lives. Lives not tainted with deceit and hurt and guilt.
A lady on the opposite bench looks across to me when she’s settling her baby in its pram, smiling. I return her smile before getting to my feet and going on my way. I don’t know where I’m heading next, but my pace is steady. Then it slows, my mind slowing with it, until I come to a stop in the middle of the pathway. I turn back, watching the woman pushing her baby towards me.