the man that was supposed to love me. But I didn’t and now I’m trying to find
the pieces of me he left behind.
should leave her alone, she’s too good for me. But, fighting the attraction
that pulls us together is getting harder every day. It doesn’t take long until
we’re a tangle of limbs and pleasures. No promises are made, no guarantees.
Just a vow to keep our hearts out of the bedroom. Simple, right? Except, now we
both have to try and avoid getting cut on each other’s broken parts.
prunes. Lifting my drunk self out of the tub is a precarious exercise, but one
I’ve perfected quite well. Turning the radio off, I move to the linen cupboard.
Sober me forgot to leave a towel out. Drunk me is amused to find that sober me
also forgot to bring the clean towels up from the laundry room downstairs.
room. This is the only perk of being alone here for a few days. There’s no one
to judge me if I decide to stay in pyjamas eating takeaway and drinking wine
all weekend. There’s also no one to judge me or my not so youthful anymore body
if I decide to stroll down stairs butt naked at three pm. It’s actually quite
freeing. Since the girls, I’ve struggled with how I see myself, my body.
Carrying two good sized babies to almost full term does terrible things to a
women’s body. No amount of gym and Pilates is ever going to fix the mess that
is my stomach and thighs, much to my chagrin. And even more to Petes,
pad down the stairs. In fact, I know they don’t. I saw enough of them in Pete’s
office to know that she’s toned in the places that mattered to my husband.
I detour to the fridge for more wine, completely forgetting that I still
haven’t grabbed a robe or a towel to cover my ass up. Yanking the door open,
the frigid air biting at my skin causes me to let out a startled yelp.
wine that I’d stored right at the back away from the girls.
front door makes me jump out of my own skin, causing me to whack my head on the
internal shelf. The clang of my teeth crashing together causing me to drop the
wine from my hand and let go of the door that had until that moment, been
hiding my naked body.
distract me from the complete and utter mortification I feel at being caught in
all my drunk, naked glory by the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
lover of all things romance, Emma Louise is a book blogger turned debut writer.
She’s a die hard bibliophile, addicted to tea (Real British tea) and speaks
with her husband, three children and overgrown puppy in South Wales, UK.
an avid reader for as long as she can remember, she’s recently decided to try
her hand at writing a love story of her own.