Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“It’s probably April,” he calls. “I’ve not unbolted the door, so her key won’t work.”
I race up the stairs, grabbing the first thing I can find to cover my bottom half . . . which happens to be a pair of Dec’s sweatpants. I have to roll them over at the waist half a dozen times to shorten them so I don’t trip over them. Pulling my T-shirt out, I hurry back downstairs and swing the door open.
It’s not April.
“Hi,” I say, hanging onto the wood, shivering when the chill hits my bare arms and feet, taking in the woman. Well-turned out. Smart but casual. A blond layered long bob. Piercing blue eyes. Pretty.
She looks me up and down. “Is Dec home?”
“Sure, let me just grab him. Can I say who’s here?”
Her lips press into a straight line, apparently not forthcoming with an answer.
“I’ll go get him,” I say, an odd feeling coming over me, something I can’t quite put my finger on. But I don’t need to fetch him, because when I turn around, he’s behind me, hoover in hand, black boxers on full show, along with the rest of his body, his eyes wide and shocked.
I withdraw, getting colder, and it has nothing to do with the sub-zero temperatures.
“Chelsea,” he breathes.
It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up. Chelsea? His ex-wife? Wait, no. They’re still married. Chelsea his wife. My brain kick-starts, and I suck in air and face her, seeing she visibly stands taller before she steps in without an invite and closes the door behind her, gazing around the hallway. “You’ve decorated.”
I move back, looking between them, my mind running blank. I can hear Albi in the kitchen, his spoon clattering against his bowl, oblivious to who’s standing in the hallway. Dec’s a statue, just staring. I can’t read him. Shock, yes, I can see that, but what’s going through his mind right now?
And what should I do?
Chelsea’s eyes move from Dec to me, and she subtly looks me up and down. I feel so scrutinised and vulnerable standing here in Dec’s sweats, my hair pulled up messily, not a scrap of makeup on.
Judged.
Exposed.
And unreasonable or not, I feel stupid, because I have no idea what Dec would need me to do in this situation. I don’t know him well enough to make an executive decision. I know he’s only ever talked about his wife with contempt. She’s dead to me. I know that when I asked him what he’d do if she ever showed up, he didn’t answer. Not truly. He just said he’d get his divorce quicker. But we didn’t touch on Albi because I didn’t even know he existed at that point. And since I did find out about him, I haven’t asked any of the questions I should have.
Like if he’s ever asked about his mum. Like what Dec would do now, except ask for his divorce. Does he still want that divorce? Now she’s here and he’s looking at the mother of his child, does he want that? He must have felt something toward her. I wanted Albi to have a stable family. I did what I thought was right. Does he think it’s right now, to give her the opportunity? Assuming she wants it, and it’s pure female intuition I’m going on, but Chelsea looks like a very contrite woman. Does he still hate her?
Fuck.
My head pounds, feeling like it could fall off my shoulders with the weight of my thoughts. And the fear inside me? It’s so powerful it hurts.
I feel like an impostor.
“What are you doing here?” he finally asks, the words a quiet murmur. It surprises me. Isn’t it obvious why she’s here? I think I expected him to yell his outrage and throw her out. And he hasn’t.
“You look well,” she says, lowering her handbag to the wooden floor. Is she about to take her coat off? Hang it on the stand? Go to the kitchen to put the kettle on? Irritation begins to dilute the fear and shock, and that only worsens when her eyes roam the naked planes of Dec’s chest. Yes, he looks well. Or did. Now? The warm, safe body aside that I love, he looks like he’s seen a ghost.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, frowning, shaking his head.
“Daddy?”
That one word is all it takes to snap him out of his stunned state, and he swings around, as do I, finding Albi in the kitchen doorway, his face smeared in chocolate milk.
“Oh my goodness,” Chelsea breathes, pulling my attention back around. She’s staring at him, her hand over her heart. I can’t take it. I feel like I’m sitting on the sidelines, helplessly watching all hope slip down the drain. “You’ve changed so much.” She lowers to a knee, and Albi’s little eyes narrow as he moves into Dec’s side and circles both his arms around his daddy’s naked thighs, hugging them.