Free The Letters (Carnage #4) by Lesley Jones Page B
Authors: Lesley Jones
more than beer. There was only one thing that would give me what I needed. One thing that would make me feel like I was invincible and not dying a slow, painful, excruciating death with every word that came out of her lying, cheating, whoreish mouth.
“Sean McCarthy, now why didn’t I work that one out?” I asked her through gritted teeth, barely holding back the need to throw up at the mention of his name. “I knew all about Sean. I just didn’t realise it was that Sean.”
Why didn’t I? How had I never worked that one out? Because I was a love-fucked cunt that was why.
“I didn’t stand a chance did I? Me or a twenty-two-year-old fucking rock god?”
“Cam, please. It’s not like that. I’ve known him since I was eleven years old. He was my boyfriend from the age of thirteen.”
She looked at the ground before looking back at me with those beautiful and oh so blue eyes.
“He’s the only boy I’ve ever loved.”
Boom. There it was, the very last of my will to live leaving my body.
“Thanks, Kitten, thanks for that.”
I turned and walked away, leaving my love and my life at Georgia’s feet.
I grabbed a couple of bottles of bourbon from the bar downstairs and took them home with me. I’d almost finished the first one by the time I’d pulled up outside the wine bar.
When I got to my flat, I went straight to my bedside chest of drawers and found an old contacts book.
All it took was one call. One call, and all of my hard work to get and stay straight the last few years went to shit. What did it matter? I had nothing to live for anyway. If I died, I died. Anything was better than thinking, than remembering her.
CHAPTER 8
Georgia
I’m not sure what wakes me, probably the turmoil that I’ve got going on in my head right now.
This weekend has been horrible and it is all my fault. I thought I was ready to finally have a read through all of Sean’s old letters. I was wrong. It isn’t just about the words they contain, it’s a combination of hurt, anger, and guilt. It would’ve all been so different if one of us had just reached out to the other. Our lives would have taken such different paths if we hadn’t remained apart for those four years.
But then what?
Where would Cam have fit in the picture if Sean and I had married and started a family at eighteen like we had planned? Would I have had him in my life? Would we have still somehow ended up together? Would our children even exist if Sean hadn’t died? I always thought I would have given anything for Sean to still be alive, but I would never give up my family and what I have with Cam.
So what does that mean? What does it say about me as a person? A wife and mother?
I am so sick of it all going around in my head. I am driving myself nuts, so I’ve no clue how Cam must be feeling having to watch me struggle with all of this. Again.
I had never doubted us or the strength of our relationship until yesterday. When he didn’t get up to take the kids to dinner with me, I really thought he’d finally had enough of me and my meltdowns. I made excuses to the kids about him being tired and forced my food down when we got to the restaurant. I smiled and joked with the kids the entire time we were out, but on the inside, I was falling apart.
On the drive home, One Direction’s “History” came on the radio. I am just grateful that the car is dark and the kids are too engrossed in their phones to notice my tears.
I couldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t survive without his love. I went over a hundred scenarios in my head, considering different ways to convince him not to leave me.
I’d drunk a bottle of wine once I got home and the kids had gone to their rooms. When I finally plucked up the courage to go upstairs and face him, I found him still in our bed and in the middle of a nightmare.
He’d told me it was jetlag. He tried to reassure me that he was fine and that we were good, but I wasn’t convinced.
I slide my leg across to Cams
“Sean McCarthy, now why didn’t I work that one out?” I asked her through gritted teeth, barely holding back the need to throw up at the mention of his name. “I knew all about Sean. I just didn’t realise it was that Sean.”
Why didn’t I? How had I never worked that one out? Because I was a love-fucked cunt that was why.
“I didn’t stand a chance did I? Me or a twenty-two-year-old fucking rock god?”
“Cam, please. It’s not like that. I’ve known him since I was eleven years old. He was my boyfriend from the age of thirteen.”
She looked at the ground before looking back at me with those beautiful and oh so blue eyes.
“He’s the only boy I’ve ever loved.”
Boom. There it was, the very last of my will to live leaving my body.
“Thanks, Kitten, thanks for that.”
I turned and walked away, leaving my love and my life at Georgia’s feet.
I grabbed a couple of bottles of bourbon from the bar downstairs and took them home with me. I’d almost finished the first one by the time I’d pulled up outside the wine bar.
When I got to my flat, I went straight to my bedside chest of drawers and found an old contacts book.
All it took was one call. One call, and all of my hard work to get and stay straight the last few years went to shit. What did it matter? I had nothing to live for anyway. If I died, I died. Anything was better than thinking, than remembering her.
CHAPTER 8
Georgia
I’m not sure what wakes me, probably the turmoil that I’ve got going on in my head right now.
This weekend has been horrible and it is all my fault. I thought I was ready to finally have a read through all of Sean’s old letters. I was wrong. It isn’t just about the words they contain, it’s a combination of hurt, anger, and guilt. It would’ve all been so different if one of us had just reached out to the other. Our lives would have taken such different paths if we hadn’t remained apart for those four years.
But then what?
Where would Cam have fit in the picture if Sean and I had married and started a family at eighteen like we had planned? Would I have had him in my life? Would we have still somehow ended up together? Would our children even exist if Sean hadn’t died? I always thought I would have given anything for Sean to still be alive, but I would never give up my family and what I have with Cam.
So what does that mean? What does it say about me as a person? A wife and mother?
I am so sick of it all going around in my head. I am driving myself nuts, so I’ve no clue how Cam must be feeling having to watch me struggle with all of this. Again.
I had never doubted us or the strength of our relationship until yesterday. When he didn’t get up to take the kids to dinner with me, I really thought he’d finally had enough of me and my meltdowns. I made excuses to the kids about him being tired and forced my food down when we got to the restaurant. I smiled and joked with the kids the entire time we were out, but on the inside, I was falling apart.
On the drive home, One Direction’s “History” came on the radio. I am just grateful that the car is dark and the kids are too engrossed in their phones to notice my tears.
I couldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t survive without his love. I went over a hundred scenarios in my head, considering different ways to convince him not to leave me.
I’d drunk a bottle of wine once I got home and the kids had gone to their rooms. When I finally plucked up the courage to go upstairs and face him, I found him still in our bed and in the middle of a nightmare.
He’d told me it was jetlag. He tried to reassure me that he was fine and that we were good, but I wasn’t convinced.
I slide my leg across to Cams