Prologue
The old woman walks in front of me and I watch the sway of her hips, as well as the flick of her stylish, silver hair, and I can’t help but smile. I hope I have sass like that when I’m her age. I’m always fascinated when I see an elderly person who appears to be in the prime of their life.
What makes them so happy?
Why are some people dancing through life with joy, while others spend their limited time doing nothing more than preparing to die?
Lately, my mind has been clouded with these thoughts, to the point where they keep me awake at night. I sip my coffee as I stare into space and contemplate life’s questions.
What is the meaning of life?
You hear the question thrown around carelessly so often but recently it’s resinated with me on a deeper level. I get it now. I get why so many people ask the same question because I, too, am curious of the answer. I wonder at what age I’m supposed to work this out.
Happiness is what, exactly?
The shopping centre is crowded today, and I’m suddenly brought to a halt by my hand. I turn back to see what Simon is looking at.
“Do you like this one?” he asks as he stares through the glass at the diamonds on display.
Frustration fills me. Not this again. “Simon.” I frown, not knowing how to put this nicely. “I don’t want an engagement ring.”
He smiles, distracted by the bling in front of him. “Of course you do. All women want to get married one day.”
I exhale heavily. Why doesn’t he ever take the not-so-subtle hints? “I’m too young.”
Simon takes me into his arms and smiles down at me. He looks so mischievous and handsome, and I’m unable to help but smile back.
“I love you,” he whispers.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders. “I love you, too.”
“Well…” He raises his brows. “Don’t you want to make me happy?”
“You know I do.” I smirk
“So, marry me.”
I frown again. This time seems different than all the other times he’s spoken about it. “You’re serious?” I ask.
“Deadly.”
My chest tightens, and just like that, panic rises from deep in my stomach. I love Simon. More than anything, I love Simon, but we’ve been together since we were fifteen years old. I always just assumed we would break up along the way like normal teenagers do when they grow up. I never, ever intended to stay with my childhood sweetheart forever. I’ve always had plans for when we eventually broke up.
A break up plan, if you will.
Climb the Himalayas.
Explore Antarctica.
Fight Dragons with swords.
Do anything other than be normal.
Alas, maybe that’s not how my life’s going to go.
I stare up at Simon and force a smile to my face. He’s hopeful and his eyes are filled with so much love that I get a deep sinking feeling in my stomach.
Guilt.
This beautiful man has been nothing but good to me and loves me so much, and all I think about all night, every night, are the places I want to travel to without him.
No friends, no boyfriends, no expectations. Just me.
The vile taste of guilt runs through me. Why do I feel this way? I hate it.
I kiss him softly on the lips as my eyes search his. “Let’s talk about it tonight, babe.”
“I can’t wait any longer. I need you as my wife… now.”
I fake a smile.
Please, don’t make me choose.
I can’t lose him. He’s a good man. The best. I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I let him go.
“Let’s go inside the store and try some on you now. You can pick whatever one you want.” He takes my hand and tries to pull me into the jewellery shop, but I freeze on the spot and pull back.
“No.”
He turns back to face me, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean…” I hesitate for a moment and swallow the lump in my throat. “I mean I don’t want to try on rings today.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t feel like it.” My temper begins to rise. How dare he railroad me like this? We’ve never even discussed this properly before today. I mean, sure, he’s hinted, but a hint is a long way away from actually trying on engagement rings.
“Well, I do,” he says, his tone clipped.
My chin rises in defiance. “And I told you that I don’t.” I turn away from him and march back to the car.
I don’t want to leave but I sure as hell don’t want to try on engagement rings even more.
It’s 3:00 a. m., and I stare at the clock as it ticks over to 3:01.
The sound of Simon’s gentle breathing is a constant reminder of what I stand to lose.
The room is dark with a shadow of the large oak tree swaying across the wall. Occasionally the sheer drapes sway as a draft from the open window catches them.
Why did we have to meet so young?
And why do I feel like this? If I understand why, then maybe I can tackle the problem head on.
It’s not like I want to be with anyone else, because I don’t. I can think of nothing worse than being with another man, so why do I feel like I need to run far, far away?
I just wish I had some time on my own-time to stand on my own two feet, you know? To make my own decisions and choices, travel where I want to, when I want to. I just need twelve months. If I’d had that freedom two years ago I would have been well and truly over it by now.
Would Simon give me twelve months?
Could I ask him to give me twelve months to be alone, and then meet back up and get engaged, settle down and live a happily ever after life?
No, that’s so selfish. I couldn’t ask that of him. It wouldn’t be fair.
My heart starts to beat faster.
Would he do that for me?
What if he met someone else and fell madly in love? I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t go through life watching Simon love someone who wasn’t me.
I’m the person he loves; I’m the person he is meant to be with. This is a dumb idea. Of course he would meet someone else. He’s gorgeous and intelligent. A young up-and-coming anaesthetist like him would be snatched up.
I get out of bed in a rush, go to the bathroom, turn the light on, and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My heart is beating fast at the sheer thought of losing him.
“Stop it,” I whisper to myself. “Don’t fuck this up. He’s beautiful. Marry him and forget this stupid nonsense.”
Day five of no sleep.
I lie on my side and watch as the clock ticks over to 3:23 a. m. My pillow is wet from my tears. Simon and I have been fighting all week, and now he’s not talking to me.
He’s forcing me into a corner to marry him or leave.
Make a decision.
I feel like I’m on the precipice of Hell because I know what I need to do, and I feel sick about it. I’m going to ask him for a twelve-month break. I need to be honest and tell him exactly how I feel. I love him desperately, but I need this time to discover myself. In the back of my mind I know I could lose him, and if I do I’ll spend the rest of my life with a broken heart regretting the decision I’m about to make.
I could never love anyone else. Simon is my soul mate.
But if I don’t leave I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I did.
Twelve months and I’ll be back with you my love, and I’ll be the best fucking wife you could ever hope for.
You have my word.
8 months later
Brock
“Morning.” I smile as I walk through the large office space. Two rows of five desks sit in one main hall. There’s a hive of activity going on, and this is where most of our work is done. Down a corridor, to the right, is my private office, along with the bathrooms and storerooms. Cindy is working in reception, and apart from Jesten and Ben, the other men who work for me haven’t arrived for the day yet.
My company is Marx Security, and we’re private investigators. Each of the men who work for me have a past in the armed forces or the police force. They all come with baggage, that’s a given, but they’re also hard as fuck, which is what I need. There are ten of us at the moment, with another three joining us from the United States soon. We take on special cases and are employed by the government or clients that have enough money to be able to afford us. Very few civilians can, but we get the results that others don’t and we’re worth every penny.
“Hey,” Jesten greets me as he studies his phone.
“Hi, Brock,” Cindy coos, leaning forward and resting on her elbows as she grins over her computer.