Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I exhale heavily. I know I need to pull myself out of this funk. My life is so dull; I’ve lost enthusiasm for everything. My life that was once wild and carefree has been replaced with animosity. Sometimes I’m so furious at Wade for leaving me with this mess that I tell him off in my head, as if he can hear me, and then afterward, I feel so guilty because I know he would have given anything to see his sons grow up and that leaving me would have never been his choice.
Life just isn’t fair sometimes.
They say that only the good die young—what about the best? Why did he have to go too?
“Go to the conference,” Marley urges me. “You are not going to lunch until you agree to this.”
“Hurry up, woman. Yes. It’s agreed; she’s going.” Gabriel tries to finish the conversation. When I don’t move, he exhales heavily and falls onto the couch.
“You know I don’t know how to do the motivational mumbo jumbo.” I stand and begin to pack files away. “The crap that they go on with is next-level batshit crazy.”
“I think you need some batshit crazy, because batshit broke isn’t a fun place to visit.” Marley sighs again.
I smirk.
“This is true.” Gabriel smiles as he scrolls through his phone.
I continue putting things away. This is true. Batshit broke is not somewhere I want to visit at all. I sit back in my chair and stare at my hopeful friend.
“Go, recharge. It’s in Épernay in the Champagne district of France, for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t get any more beautiful than this, Claire. It’s a tax deduction; you either pay for this or pay it in taxes—the choice is yours. At the very least, you can get a massage every afternoon and then drink two liters of champagne every night with your gourmet dinner and fall into bed in a blissful stupor.”
“Épernay is beautiful,” Gabriel mutters, distracted. “I would go just for the location.”
“You’ve been there?” I ask him.
“A few times. I went with Sophia last summer,” he replies. “She loves it there.”
I imagine myself alone in a luxurious hotel room. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten away. Five years, actually. “Now, a gourmet dinner and champagne . . . that is tempting.”
“If the conference part of the trip is boring, just ditch it, and have a week to yourself in France. You need this break,” Marley says.
Gabriel stands. “Agreed. You’re going. Hurry up; I’m ravenous.”
I exhale heavily.
“Will you just go for me?” Marley takes my hand in hers. “Please.” She smiles sweetly and bats her eyelashes as she tries to be cute.
Oh God, she’s not going to let this go. “Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll go.”
She bounces off my desk and claps her hands in excitement. “Yes, this is going to be so good for you, Claire—just what you need.” She rushes toward the door. “I’m going to book flights now before you change your mind.”
I roll my eyes as I pick up my handbag. “I’m already dreading it.”
“Eep, I’m so excited.” She flaps her hands around and rushes out of the office.
“We going?” Gabriel asks.
“Yeah. I’m not feeling sushi, though.”
“Fine.” He holds his hand toward the door. “You choose, but make it fast. I’m about to faint.”
“Okay. Let’s go over the details,” Marley says as she sips her drink.
I nod as I take a bite of food. We are in a restaurant having lunch. It’s the day before I leave for my conference. “Your bags are packed.”
Marley gets out her diary and begins to read from her list.
“Uh-huh.”
She ticks the first checkbox on her list. “Hair done—tick.” She continues going through her list. “Appointments cleared,” she mumbles to herself as she reads through her list.
I keep eating my lunch, totally unexcited about the next week.
“Oh.” She frowns and looks up at me. “Did you get laser?”
I roll my eyes.
“There are a lot of hot opportunities at these kinds of conferences, Claire.”
“Are you kidding me?” I stare at her deadpan. “You want me to go to this conference so I can get laid?”
“Well.” She shrugs. “Why not?”
“Marley.” I drop my knife and fork with a clang. “Sex is the very last thing I want. I still feel very married to one man.”
Her face falls, and she puts her pen and paper down. “But you’re not, Claire.” She takes my hand over the table. “Wade died, honey. Five years ago now . . . and I know for a fact that he wouldn’t want you living alone forever.”
My eyes drop to the plate of food in front of me.
“He would want you to be living life to the fullest . . . for both of you.”
I feel a lump in my throat begin to build.
“He would want you to be happy and cared for . . . loved.”