Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
A coincidence?
I blink and look across the circle of people to him. Mistake. Our eyes meet briefly, and I flinch on the inside, quickly breaking our eye contact, grateful when Rachel puts a glass in my hand and nods. “Your dad keeps getting me wine. I can’t tell him I’m not drinking, or he might cotton on.”
“Congratulations,” I say, accepting.
“You’re not yourself, Amelia,” she replies. “Clark’s worried.”
“I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry about Nick. I tried to push that situation along.”
“Hey, please, don’t apologise. You had enough to deal with. I’m coping.”
“And the other guy?”
“He’s history,” I say, feeling my thighs brush, my insides still throbbing in the aftermath of a reckless encounter. Rachel gives me a look I’m not sure I like, letting Clark pull her away from me. They both get on the stage, and the lead singer hands them each a microphone. The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside” kicks in, and they start belting out the lyrics together, as everyone cheers them on. I peek at the glass of wine in my hand and knock it back. It’s not like I could be any more stupid. I just fucked Jude in the back of his car.
My eyes closed, I let the happy, drunken vibes take me off to a place far nicer than where Jude Harrison resides. I don’t need to be in his world. Don’t want to be.
“Amelia Gracie Lazenby, move aside.” Grandpa breaks out of the circle and shimmies his way into the middle, arms up high, beckoning Grandma to him.
“Oh God, I think I’m gonna cry,” I choke out, watching as he serenades her in the middle, both their old faces alive with joy.
“They’re the cutest,” Mum says, as I dig into my purse and find my phone, snapping a picture of them.
“And lucky for you, I get my moves from him,” Dad declares, sweeping Mum off to join them, twirling her all the way. I look at Clark and Rachel on the stage. Grandpa and Grandma cheering them on. Mum and Dad on the floor laughing.
This is what matters.
Their presence. Everyone’s presence.
Especially mine.
My feet are throbbing by one a.m., my voice hoarse from singing with everyone. I certainly let my hair down. Speaking of which . . .
I feel for the jewelled clip in my blond waves, frowning when I don’t find it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it shot across the room with the force of me jumping to “Mr. Brightside.”
Abbie, Charley, and I all sway out of the ballroom after saying our slurry goodbyes, our heels dangling from our fingers. “God, I’m going to pay for this in about”—Charley squints down at her watch—“five hours.” Her head drops back, her wild curls skimming her arse. “Ohhhhhh Gooooddddd.”
“Come stay in my room,” Abbie suggests. “Lloyd can’t make you get up if you’re not there.”
Charley gasps. “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” Her arms go up over her head, a half-stretched yawn and a half-celebratory cheer. “I’ll tell him I didn’t want to wake the kids, so I stayed with you.” She starts skipping towards the elevator. “I’m taking the right side.”
“You’ll take whatever side I give you,” Abbie retorts.
“I’d sleep in the fucking bathtub if it means I don’t have to get up at six.”
I laugh and herd them into the cart, pressing the button for floor three. “What a lovely day,” I muse, falling back against the wall. Aside from my interlude with Jude, it turned out better than I expected. Thank you, Chablis, and some good old party tracks.
“It was!” Abbie sings.
“So who’s next?” Charley asks, looking between us. Abbie and I snort. Not happening. Maybe ever.
“Depends if I ever find the hot bastard that took me to bed in France.”
“You’d marry him?” I ask. “You don’t even know his name.”
“I’d do anything that man demanded.” She frowns at Charley. “Except put my finger up his bum.”
I laugh hard as Charley gasps her indignance, and when the doors open, I stumble out, still chuckling. “Sleep tight, you two,” I say, letting myself into my room. I can hear Abbie still winding Charley up as they zigzag down the corridor.
I drop my heels and purse and fall to my back on the bed with a sigh. “Water,” I blurt out, immediately pulling myself up again. I glug back an entire bottle, hoping to hydrate my brain so it doesn’t shrivel to the size of a nut, then grab my phone and prop myself against the headboard. I flick through the pictures I captured on the dance floor, smiling from ear to ear, particularly at the one of Grandpa and Grandma headbanging.
So precious.
But my smile drops when a text invades the screen. I breathe in.
I fucking dare, Amelia.
I jump when someone starts banging on my door, my heart going from zero to a hundred in one beat. “Shit,” I whisper, scooting to the edge of the bed and creeping across the room. I hold my breath, shaking like a leaf, and peek through the tiny peephole. I don’t know whether to be relieved when I see Nick on the other side. “Fuck.” I move back, just as he starts banging again.