My phone ringing wakes me up sometime later. I grab it off the side and see that I’ve missed loads of calls and texts from Ruben over the last two hours, but thankfully it’s Connie’s name that comes up this time.

  I answer and convince her that I’m fine, and that she doesn’t need to come round to look after me. She tells me what happened after Ruben disappeared with me, and about him going crazy when he came back. She probes and probes, trying to get me to fully explain what happened with Ruben, and why he came back almost as savage as he was with Elliot. I don’t think she believes me when I say that I just wanted to be in my own home, but that’s all she is getting out of me.

  I get up to get some painkillers for my aching face when I put the phone down, but before I do that, I go into the bathroom to inspect the damage caused to my eye. I’m pleasantly surprised that it’s just red and swollen, but I’m not stupid enough to think that’s how it’s going to stay! When the bruising hits tomorrow, I’m sure it will be really attractive.

  After I find some painkillers, I do something really pathetic. Something that, if you asked me a couple of months ago, I would adamantly swear I would never, ever do. But here I am now, having met Ruben with his mysterious eyes and sexy thighs of steel, and I’m another one of those pathetic women that I hate. I find the t-shirt that was wrapped around the peas that I threw on the worktop when I came in, and hold it to my nose to smell. Although cold, it smells just like him, with a hint of aftershave. I quickly shake it out and pull it over my head, before heading back up to bed, wondering what the fuck has possessed my body since meeting Ruben bloody Foster.

  I’m wide awake at six the next morning after God knows how many hours’ sleep. To my pure delight, one look in the mirror tells me I was right to think my eye was going to get worse. It’s a lovely shade of red and purple; very attractive.

  After making myself a cup of coffee, I curl myself up on my chair and go about editing what I wrote on Saturday. I have to cave to my hated glasses, because there is no way I’m sticking contact lenses in my eye with how swollen it is. Trying to get it out yesterday was a challenge enough.

  I’m so engrossed in what I’m doing that I jump out of my skin when my front door gets knocked. I sit stock still for a while, thinking it’s probably Ruben seeing if I will talk to him before work. Predictably, there is another knock, but this time it’s followed by a key in the lock, so I know it can’t be him. I jump up to go and unlock the door from the inside, knowing a key won’t get them very far after locking myself in last night. When I get there and pull the door open, it’s Molly. Only my parents and Molly have a key, and seeing as they are still on holiday, it’s not really a surprise that it’s Molly.

  “I knew you’d be awake already. So…I have been up since five because Sprout was kickboxing in there, so I…wow…Emma, what the fuck?” she says, having only just glanced up at me. She grabs my chin in her hand and carefully pulls my glasses off so she can see the damage.

  “It was Ruben. Come and have a seat and I’ll explain.”

  “It was Ruben?” she asks, astonished. “Why the fuck would he hit you?” I watch as she grabs her phone out of her bag. “I’m calling Ryan, he’ll come beat the shit out of him for you. I can’t believe he fucking hit you.” She starts pacing up and down my kitchen before clutching her belly as if in pain. “Shit.”

  “Oh my God, please don’t give birth in my kitchen,” I say, as I grab her arm and pull her to the bar stool to sit down.

  “I’m fine,” she says, still rubbing her belly, making me think that she is not fine. “It’s just Braxton Hicks, I’ve been getting them for a few days now. Hopefully it’s a sign that Sprout will be appearing soon. So, back to what I was saying, I’ll ring Ry and-”

  “Chill out, Molls. You don’t need to ring Ryan. Ruben does not need beating up. He didn’t mean to hit me; I was just in the way.” She looks at me like I’m talking another language, so I go on to explain all – well, almost all.

  “And you sent him away, just like that?” she asks incredulously.

  “Yeah. He’s a man whore, Molls. He spent the night before shagging some random girls in his living room with his best mate, while his sister slept in the room next door. Not the sort of guy I should be interested in.”

  “Do you actually know that he was involved, though? You said that Connie didn’t come out of her room, and from what you have said to me about Ruben, he seems pretty smitten with you.”

  “Smitten? Really? No, he just wants a quick fuck, but he is barking up the wrong tree here, and the sooner he realises that, the better it will be for both of us.”

  We eventually get on to the reason Molly was here so early this morning. She has been working on all the promotional stuff for my book. The cover has been finalised and I love it. It’s genius. She has made a load of teasers with the quotes we both picked out, and has found me a company to host my release and get it out there. Oh, and I should mention she has also opened Facebook and Twitter accounts as my author name and started a page for me.

  “I can just about use Facebook, but I have no idea about Twitter. You’re gonna have to show me what to do.”

  “It’s easy, Em, you’ll be fine. Plus, I’ve made myself admin on your page and written down all your usernames and passwords, so I can do some of it while I’m not working to keep me busy. That way, you can just focus on writing and working.”

  I can’t believe you have done all this. It’s amazing, Molly, thank you.

  We continue chatting about it all until the door gets knocked again. Molly must see the colour drain from my face, because she offers to answer it for me and send him away, if that is who it is.

  The only thing I hear though when she opens the door is a loud, “Oh my God!” I get up to go and see what’s going on, to find a deliveryman placing the biggest bunch of flowers on the kitchen side that I think I have ever seen. Molly sees the guy out while I just stand and stare.

  “See, I told you. Smitten!” I just glare at her until she prompts me to open the card.

  Emma,

  I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.

  Ruben x

  She comes to look over my shoulder so she can read the card. When she does, she spells out the word smitten in a very smug voice. I abandon her and the flowers in the kitchen, and return to my earlier seat, while trying not to think about the flowers and what they mean. Maybe he is just sorry for hitting me, and that’s all there is to it.

  Molly is still with me later that afternoon, when we hear someone let themselves in. Once again, she is up and at the door to see who it is before I’m even out of the chair. How she does that, being heavily pregnant, I have no idea.

  “Hey, Molly. How are you doing?” I hear Connie ask.

  “Getting impatient.”

  Relieved, I get up to go and greet her. “Wow, that’s turned into a real shiner,” she says when I show my face. “Hey, I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

  “I don’t very often. I hate them. I normally have contacts in, but I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

  “Guess not. They suit you, though.”

  “No they don’t. I look like a right geek.”

  I see a look pass between Molly and Connie before she says, “Okaaaay. So, Ruben is still in a right pissy.”

  “Look what he sent,” Molly says excitedly, pointing at the huge bouquet.

  “Ruben sent you flowers. Well, fuck me, has Hell frozen over?”

  Well, sending flowers obviously isn’t something Ruben does often, then.

  “I can’t believe you’ve broken him,” Connie says, once we have sat down with drinks.

  “I think you’ll find he broke me,” I say, pointing to my face.

  “Yeah, okay, but that is not what I meant and you know it. He’s got it bad for you, Em. And he has never, literally never, acted like this before. He had a couple of girlfriends when we were at school, but since we were teenagers, he hasn’t been interested. I think Mum and Dad put him off or something.”

  “But your mum and dad are happily married; how would they put him off?”

  “It hasn’t always been that way,” is all she says, and it’s obvious she doesn’t want to add any more.

  “Oh. I’m not interested though, Con. You’ve said yourself: he’s a whore and he uses women. I don’t want to be one in a long line of hook-ups for him. I will not be like those girls the other night that fulfil his needs then get chucked out without a second glance.”

  “What if that isn’t what he wants, though?”

  “What else can he want?” She raises her eyebrows at me, “You just said he doesn’t do girlfriends. Why are you changing your tune so suddenly?”

  “I did say that, but I also said I’ve never seen him act like this. Maybe you’re different. Maybe you’re the one that will make him see sense and grow up a little.”

  “Says the one who’s been shagging his arch enemy,” I say, sarcastically. But the look she shoots me has me apologising immediately.

  Molly eventually heads home and I cook dinner for Connie, just like the old times, before Ruben appeared and sent my world into a tailspin.

  “I never thought I’d say this, but maybe you should give it a go, Em. You could be just what each other needs,” Connie tries again before she leaves for the night, and I once again push her comment under the carpet.

  * * *

  The week drags as I sit at home and wait for the bruising and swelling to go down. I ring in sick to work because I can’t turn up to the office looking like this, and I refuse to do any shifts for Connie. I feel bad about it, but I think she knows that my black eye does stem from her stupidity, so she doesn’t say anything about my refusal.

  Every day, I receive a different present from Ruben. I’ve had an Amazon gift card as well as paperbacks of one of my favourite series. And this morning, to my sheer delight, and horror, I received a rather large gift card to my favourite underwear store. I can only hope that Connie has brought it up in some innocent conversation that I shop there, because I hate the thought of him knowing I have an obsession with fancy underwear. Just because I never show them off to anyone, doesn’t mean they don’t make me feel better about myself. And because I’m that obsessed, I dig out some concealer from the depths of my make-up bag to attempt to cover what is left of my bruise, and head into town to buy myself some new undies. I rationalise that I have managed to lose quite a bit of weight, so I might just need a different size!

  Connie stops in on Friday night with ingredients for dinner. I’m not sure if she actually wants to have dinner here, or if she just wants to know what I was sent today from Ruben, although when I see her face, it’s clear that she already knows.

  “You told him, didn’t you?” I demand the minute I see the expression on her face.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, trying to play innocent, but digs straight into the bag sat on the counter full of my new goodies. “Wow, that’s sexy; he’d love that.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I mean it, he has a thing for-”

  “Shut up, or you’re going home to eat alone!”

  “Sorry, just saying.”

  Before she leaves, I get instructed to be at her house no later than eleven in the morning for our day around the pool, followed by a night out. Connie has told me that both Ruben and Fin are working all day tomorrow, so it’s just us during the day, which means I only have to see him in the evening, and I’m sure he’ll be too busy with all the women that will surround him to pay much attention to me.

  * * *

  I arrive in plenty of time the next morning, with enough stuff for a weekend away. I’ve got a bag for the day, a bag for tonight, and a third full of stuff for Connie for her birthday. I heave it all into her kitchen and shout for her. She appears seconds later, still doing up the top on the tiniest black bikini I have ever seen. She looks stunning in it, but it is so small, the bandeaux top just about covers her boobs, and the bottoms are cut so small that I can only imagine how much of her arse is out on show. I would never be seen dead in it.

  “Happy birthday,” I say, and give her a hug when she gets to me and has finished faffing with her boobs.

  “Thanks. You moving in?”

  “This is for you,” I say, handing her the bag with her presents in.

  She immediately dives in and starts pulling the contents out. There is a huge range of things I bought, as well as her actual presents, including a huge bottle of Pimm’s and all the accompaniments, her favourite biscuits, ice creams that need to go straight in the freezer, and a bottle of pink champagne. I bought her some of my favourite series in paperback, and a gift card for her favourite shop to spoil herself with. I wasn’t confident enough actually picking the clothes out for her, so I cheated.

  “Awesome, thank you.”

  “I made you a cake as well. I tried to make it a little healthy, so it’s a beetroot and chocolate cake.” I wasn’t sure about the sound of it when I saw the recipe, but surprisingly, it tastes really good.

  “I love that. Thank you. Come on, let’s get you changed and head over to the pool. I’ve got the sun beds all set up, the fridge is packed, and there’s enough food to feed the five thousand.”

  I head into her bedroom and pull out my swimming costume and towel before removing my shoes and cardigan.

  “Just as I thought,” Connie says, as she comes behind me and lifts my swimming costume between her thumb and forefinger like it is a dead animal. Okay, so it’s not the most attractive of costumes, but it covers as much skin as possible and it draws no attention to itself, or me. I thought it was perfect. Well, that was a few years ago. I bought it and shoved it in the cupboard, never to be seen again.

  The costume is suddenly launched across the room, and a bag is placed down in its space. “Here, try this one.”

  I tentatively open the bag and unwrap the tissue paper to reveal a siren red swimming costume. “I knew you wouldn’t go for a bikini, so…” Connie mutters in the background. I hang up the scrap of fabric in front of me and inspect what little there is of it. It’s a halterneck with a very low cut front. The only saving grace is that the cups actually have some support in them. There is then a strap around the back that can be undone before it plunges - I would imagine almost to your arsecrack, - and covers about a third of your actual arse.

  “I am not wearing this,” I say, turning to look at Connie, who is grinning wickedly at me.

  “That is where you are mistaken, Emma, because you are. It’ll just be the two of us. No one else will see you; it’s my birthday, and I want you to start embracing your curves. This will look fucking awesome on you, trust me.”

  I go to argue, but get cut off by her telling me that I don’t have a choice, and pushing me into the bathroom. Once the door is shut, I just stand and stare at the costume. Connie can obviously guess what I’m doing, because before long, I hear her shout that she hasn’t got all day. I eventually decide I’m just going to have to man up and get on with it. She’s right, I guess; it is only her that will see me, and she won’t judge me.

  I manage to get it on, and I’m surprised by how supportive it is. I feel nicely sucked in in the stomach department, and my boobs are held nice and firmly, exactly where they’re meant to be, and covered enough so I don’t feel like they are about to pop out at any moment. And if I do say so myself, they actually look pretty good. Shit, I just gave myself a compliment. Maybe Connie was right the other day- Hell has indeed frozen over.

  It’s all going relatively well until I catch sight of my thighs as I turn to leave. There are way too many stretch marks, and way too much cellulite on display. I fucking despise my thighs, hips and arse. I have done since I was a teenager, and they grew too quick for my skin, causing these disgusting stretch marks. They are the reason I will never been seen in short skirts or shorts.

  “You better be ready, because I’m coming in,” Connie announces, a second before the door swings open.

  My first instinct is to try to cover my thighs with my hands, so Connie finds me kinda slouched over.

  “I knew that would look amazing on you. Stand up straight.” I do as I’m told because I don’t have much choice. “Fuck me, Em, your tits look insane in that. Ruben would have an aneurism,” she says, as she jiggles the straps about a bit and tightens it up further to give me even more cleavage. “Not that he’ll get to see, of course,” she says with a wink, making me question the truth in her words.

  I decide to make life a little easier on myself and go for a compromise. “Right, I’ll wear it as long as I can cover my thighs.”

  “Why, what’s wrong with your thighs?”

  “Are you joking? They are all bumpy and scarred.”

  “No they’re not. They are perfectly good shapely legs. Thousands of women would die for legs like yours. But because I’m such a good friend and saw this coming, I bought you something else.”

  I watch her disappear back out of the room before reappearing with a black short wrap that I can tie around my waist. I breathe a sigh of relief as she hands it to me, and immediately put it in place to cover my thighs. I look back at myself in the mirror and actually smile at my reflection.

  “See, you look hot,” Connie says, as she grabs my hand and starts pulling me out of the bathroom, “We’re not going to get tans in here.”

  “Wow, it’s like I slept though the flight and woke up on holiday,” I comment as we approach the pool. As she said earlier, the loungers are out, there are umbrellas up and a couple of inflatable beds are sat by the edge of the pool. To my surprise, there is even a bar in the corner. The pool is huge. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it was not this long, rectangular, perfectly blue pool with a round Jacuzzi at one end and a waterfall letting the water into the larger pool.

 

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