Page 14 of This Woman Forever

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Page 14 of This Woman Forever

You can never have happiness. You don’t deserve happiness.

“No, no, no,” I whisper, turning on the spot, taking in the grounds surrounding me. Beautiful grounds. Miles of perfect greenery. The Manor, majestic and handsome, the hub of pleasure for hundreds.

And the beginning of my end.

I rest back against the tree, needing the support, and close my eyes, trying to chase away the memories.

“Maybe ease off on the alcohol, Jesse,” Uncle Carmichael says. “There’s no fun to be had when you wake up the next morning and can’t remember a damn thing.” He rubs my shoulder as I rub my sore head. “Appreciate what it can offer but respect it. It would be all too easy to succumb to the addiction of sex and alcohol.”

Fuck.

I sprint off, passing many cars driving up to The Manor, some staff who crane their necks as I run in the opposite direction, not even acknowledging them with a raised hand or nod. I’m focused firmly forward, chasing away unwanted thoughts, my legs carrying me so fast I can’t feel them. I zigzag from one side of the driveway to the other, trying to lengthen the journey that will take me to the gates, the gravel crushing harshly under my pounding feet.

A car horn starts a chorus of short and long honks in the distance, and I force my eyes up to see Sam’s Porsche headed toward me. I don’t slow down, but he does, until he comes to a stop in front of me.

“My man.” He whacks his car into reverse and slams his foot on the accelerator to flank me. “Doing a runner?” he asks, flicking his eyes between me and the rearview mirror.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” I pant, maintaining my speed. I’m trying to chase away the remaining demons. “Ava’s being guarded so I’m having to find other means of distraction from?—”

“Your nerves?”

“I’m not fucking nervous.” I should just go into full-blown trample all over Elizabeth’s prim arse. I thought I could do this, to pacify Ava and her need to pacify her mother. But, fuck me, I feel like my heart is ready to explode. Or stop. “Kate’s here,” I say, taking my eye off the road for the first time to look at Sam. I’m glad I did. I definitely detected a fleeting wave of caution. “Everything all right?”

“Not really,” he admits for the first time, my cheeky mate’s constant smile nowhere in sight. “She’s here but not here.”

“Have you asked her what’s up?” I feel like shit. Guilty. I know exactly what’s up, and I feel like I should tell him.

“Nope,” he says, blowing out his cheeks.

“Why?” Because he’s afraid of what she might say?

“She’s a woman. Who the fuck knows what goes on in their heads.”

I laugh through my fitful breaths. “Talk to her.”

“Maybe. Catch you later.” He slams on his brakes, kicking up a cloud of dust, before screeching off toward The Manor.

I reach the end of the driveway and take a hard right, intending on completing three full laps of the grounds—anything to kill some fucking time. I pull off my T-shirt and toss it to the ground carelessly. Maybe I’ll sleep for the final hour of this torturous wait.

I glance down at my watch. I’m in a fucking time warp.

Abstain. Abstain. Abstain.

I can’t.

I’ve tried. I’ve tried so fucking hard.

I need to see her.

All I can hear is Elizabeth’s ear-piercing voice in my head trying to convince Ava to wait a while before committing to me. It’s driving me fucking insane.

I pelt up the steps to the entrance, nearly knocking Mario from his feet as I barge through the doors. “Mamma mia!” He staggers back, shouting obscenities in both Italian and English as I take the stairs three at a time.

“Sorry,” I call, flying around the gallery landing until I land at the door to our suite.

I go to grab the handle, but quickly consider the response I’ll receive from her mother if I burst in. I need to play my cards right. So I tap as gently as I can, which isn’t very gently at all.

“Just a minute,” Elizabeth calls. I sag slightly with the confirmation of her presence, just as the door swings open and her eyes immediately bulge. And then she shrieks, making me stagger back a little.




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