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THE FIFTH
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Thirty Days THE SIXTH
Taylor is gone when I wake, but I roll over to find a note on my pillow, promising to let me know everything when he gets home. I find myself worrying about Nicola, worrying about Taylor and, finally, worrying about my little Bean. Knowing that Richard knows about my pregnancy sends a shiver down my spine. I know I stood up to him previously at Genevieve’s party and told him that he didn’t scare me, but when I found out how Richard’s threats to Taylor caused the downfall of our relationship, the fear of him returned. His obsession with Taylor—and that is what it has all boiled down to—means that he doesn’t want anyone to replace him in his brother’s life. He has already made it perfectly clear how he feels about me, and I am just terrified that his reaction to a baby would be even fiercer. After all, he abused Nicola as a baby too. I finally force myself out of bed, grateful that the morning sickness seems to be absent for a change. I find my mind wandering all morning as I bake, wo
Thirty Days THE SIXTH pt2
I wake to a delicious aroma filling my senses. My stomach growls in response, and I scramble to find my phone to see what the time is. Eight o’clock. The craziness of the day has taken its toll, and after my mother left, I put my head down for a short nap. Well, that was three hours ago. I enter the kitchen to find Taylor frying steaks. My mouth waters as I take in creamed spinach on the stove, pink-peppercorn sauce bubbling gently and the crispy fries baking in the oven. Mmm, I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until this moment. I could eat a horse, or given the menu, a cow. “Yum, that smells good,” I say to Taylor as I wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head on his back. Slowly he turns in my embrace and plants a soft kiss on my nose. “I wondered when you were going to wake up. You were snoring like a train,” Taylor says playfully. I swat his arm in defence and pout. “I don’t snore!” I protest. Just then I notice a huge bunch of white roses on the side, and I raise my eye
Thirty Days THE SEVENTH
I wake disorientated. The room is dark, and I am hot, far too hot. It takes me a second to realise that I am trapped under Taylor’s dead weight, and I find myself wriggling in his arms to gain a little space. I sense a change in Taylor as his breathing lightens, and when I roll over to face him, I find myself staring into his serious brown eyes. “Hey,” he whispers. “You okay? What happened?” My body trembles at the memories. “I was just lying there daydreaming, and then all of a sudden all those images from the blog started running through my head, and then I was back there in the moment, watching myself cut my wrists.” Tears are sliding down my face, and Taylor brings up his thumb to wipe them softly away. “What can I do to help?” I can hear the hitch in his voice as if he is as affected by this as much as I am. “Make me forget. I close my eyes and it is all I see. I wish I could make it go away.” I hate the weakness in my voice. Every time I think I am getting a handle on things
Thirty Days THE SEVENTH pt2
My morning can’t go fast enough. I made all my calls first thing, and now I am just waiting for news. There is nothing more frustrating than being at the mercy of other people’s decisions. Andreas and Bea can sense my unease and have pretty much left me to my own devices, so I have been taking my frustrations out on some dough instead. I really need to get back to doing my morning yoga routine and find some Zen. I am just bringing out a fresh batch of rolls to the counter when Bea grabs me. “There is a girl here about the shop role. Do you have time to speak to her?” “Sure, let me just get out of this apron and I’ll be right out.” I quickly dash to the toilets to wipe away the flour dust that always seems to get everywhere. Walking out through to the front, I immediately spot the girl. Tall, blonde and very pretty. From the looks of her, she is older than me, so it makes me wonder why she wants a shop job. But hey, everyone has a reason and who am I to judge? I step forward and hold
Thirty Days THE SEVENTH pt3
My taxi pulls up outside The Roundhouse, and I am amazed at the crowds of people gathered. I feel myself starting to panic, wondering how on earth I am going to find Taylor, when I hear a tap at the window and see the man himself standing there. Taylor pays my fare and then opens the door, offering his hand to help me out, something I am eternally grateful for considering the shoes that are now gracing my feet. “Holy shit, you look hot,” Taylor whispers into my ear before grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the entrance. “What’s going on, Taylor? I checked the website and it said nothing was on tonight, yet look at all these people.” Taylor just winks and pulls me forward. Curiosity has definitely got the cat, so I follow Taylor as fast as my heels will allow. At the entrance, Taylor is greeted by name, and I am starting to feel a little like Alice heading down the rabbit hole. “So are you going to tell me what is going on yet, Taylor?” I plead, desperate to know what on earth
Thirty Days THE SEVENTH pt4
I am grateful that Taylor has parked nearby, and it is only minutes until we are back in the cosy warmth. As the engine roars to life, I settle back in my seat and close my eyes, reliving that magic moment of being serenaded. Definitely, something to add to my top-ten life experiences. I must have dozed off because the next thing I know is the feeling of being lifted out of the car and being carried upstairs. I hadn’t even thought about where we were staying tonight, but from a sleepy glance around, I can see that Taylor has brought us back to Brighton. I smile into Taylor’s neck and murmur a soft “Hi.” “Back in the land of the living, then, are we?” Taylor laughs as he plops me somewhat ungraciously onto the bed, making me giggle. Lying down next to me, Taylor gives me a smouldering look as his eyes travel up my body. I am wide awake now and my libido has gone into overdrive. “I think it’s time to get you out of those clothes, Abby,” Taylor says, his voice thick with arousal. I c
Thirty Days THE EIGHTH
Shit. Shit. Shit. I am late. Somehow everything went pear-shaped this morning, starting with sleeping through my alarm, and now I am ten minutes late for my appointment with Dr Grohl. The receptionist waves me straight through when I come jogging in, and I find myself collapsing into my favourite squishy armchair whilst simultaneously trying to apologise for my tardiness and catch my breath. David hands me a glass of water and gives me a couple of minutes to collect myself before announcing that we ought to start the session. I feel so embarrassed about being late that I am particularly grouchy today. When David starts probing me about my freak-out in the bath—typical, Taylor must have called him—I find myself shutting down, unable to answer his questions as the images flood back. I don’t even realise that I am hyperventilating and in the middle of a panic attack until David is standing in front of me with a paper bag. As I struggle to get my breathing under control, David offers a
Thirty Days THE EIGHTH pt2
I wake with a start, vaguely wondering why I am on my couch. Everything floods back to me and my stomach clenches in anxiety. Realising my phone is ringing, I reach for it, noticing the private number, ready to give Taylor another piece of my mind. “What do you want?” I say brusquely. “Um, Abby?” questions a familiar voice softly. “Nicola?” I respond, wondering why she is calling. “Abby, can I speak to Taylor? He isn’t picking up his phone.” “He’s not here,” I say more harshly than intended, and I instantly feel contrite. “Sorry, Nicola. Taylor left a while ago.” I can hear soft crying and low music in the background, and I feel dreadful for talking to her like that. “Are you ok?” “Yeah, um, no, not really…” Nicola trails off. The hairs on my neck are standing on end, and call it women’s intuition or something, but I know something is very wrong. “Nicola, sweetie, tell me what’s going on.” The sobbing continues and a thousand scenarios run through my head, each one worse than
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