Reasons Not To Fall In Love Read online

  What if it hadn’t been me to come in? What if it had been Theo that came home early and caught his father screwing a young girl up against a wall? Rage. It took over everything, coloured my vision, burnt my throat. “You’re a useless sack of shit, Finn Reynolds!”

  He nodded, flinching as if my words stung. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry? That’s not fucking good enough!” I ranted. “Was she even legal? She looked like a fucking child!”

  His brows furrowed. “She’s eighteen,” he answered quietly.

  I nodded absentmindedly. “That’ll be why her tits looked like fucking rocks still then, huh?” I muttered. “I’m sick of this shit!” My eyes filled with tears, causing everything to blur.

  Finn stepped forward, cupping my cheeks and tilting my head up so I had to look at him. His pale green eyes were sorrowful and apologetic, the same as they always were when I confronted him about one of his affairs. He gulped, and the silence stretched on and on, almost until it became painful as we both stood there and fought against what we both knew we should do.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  Those words meant nothing to me any more; they were just empty, meaningless words strung together and thrown out for effect. “You can’t do. If you did, you wouldn’t do this,” I replied weakly, putting my hand on his chest and pushing him away from me.

  “But I do,” he protested. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, buttercup. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know why I do this. I’m sorry.”

  I took a deep breath as I realised something that I already knew, way deep down inside me. I was better than this. I was better than this man that stood in front of me that had every single part of me at his disposal, but yet disrespected me so easily for a casual fuck with a pretty girl. I deserved better than to be treated like this. I put myself through this time and time again because I believed that maybe he would change, maybe he’d stop looking at other girls, maybe, one day, I would be enough for him and then we would fall back in love again and have the life that I dreamt of when I was a little girl.

  “I’m sick of this happening, I’m sick of you cheating, I’m sick of feeling second best and that this is my fault somehow. I deserve better than this,” I muttered, shaking my head and looking down at my wedding ring on my third finger of my left hand. “I never signed up for this. I hate the way you make me feel so worthless all the time, Finn. I can’t do this any more.”

  He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he stepped closer to me again, gripping my upper arms tightly. “What? Bronwyn, don’t say that, don’t do this. I love you, and I’m sorry. This will never, ever happen again. I love you. You’re my life; you and Theo are the only important things to me. I’ll never do it again, I swear. I’m so sorry. I can change. I will change. Please, forgive me. You do deserve better, and I’ll be better. Please, buttercup, please?” His voice was desperate, frightened even. I could hear the vulnerability in his tone as his fingers bit into my arms, holding me in place. His words were always the same after I found out about his cheating. He always promised to change, apologised until he was blue in the face, and gushed how much he loved me. But it wasn’t enough, not this time. “I’d be lost without you, you know that. This will never happen again. It’s you and me, forever. Just you and me, no one else.”

  I closed my eyes, fighting the humiliation that was causing my heart to squeeze painfully in my chest. “Finn, we don’t work.”

  “We do!” he protested. “You don’t want to be on your own any more than what I do. We need each other. And we can’t just break up; imagine what that’ll do to Theo.”

  I frowned, knowing he was throwing every emotional tool at me to try and make me not say the words that were right on the tip of my tongue. I hated him for bringing in those things, but those were the reasons I’d put up with him for this long already – because I didn’t want to take Theo’s dad away from him, and because I was afraid. Afraid to be on my own, afraid to be a single parent, afraid to walk up to my mother and tell her that she’d been right about Finn all along. How would I look her in the eye after knowing that I should have listened to her all those years ago, when she saw that he was no good?

  “Please, buttercup. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. I’ll try harder; I’ll be better, I swear.” As he spoke, his breath reeked of alcohol as it blew across my face. “Maybe we could get some counselling or something. I could learn how to be a better husband. Just don’t give up on us, don’t let me screw this up, please?” His hands slid up my arms, coming to rest on my neck, his thumbs stroking my jawline softly. “I’ll do anything. Let me make this up to you. Just one more chance? Can we start over, we’ll work it out? Please?”

  My decision had already been made though and no matter how much he pleaded, how much his eyes bore into mine, how softly he stroked my face, I couldn’t change my mind, not this time. I felt different inside. Starting over was scary and terrifying, but my pride had been wounded irrevocably by the sight I’d walked in on. I couldn’t pretend any longer.

  My words left my lips before I fully thought through the consequences of them. “Take your filthy, lying, cheating hands off me, and move the fuck out of my flat!” I hissed, raising my chin confidently. “I’m done. We’re done.” I took a deep breath before saying the last bit. “I want a divorce.”

  The words didn’t hurt as much as I thought they would, in fact, it was almost a relief saying it, and they took some of the weight off my shoulders that I’d been carrying around for the last twelve and a half years since we said the words ‘I do’. The finality of the word divorce hung in the air and, in that split second, I actually felt proud of myself. I was finally making a stand and believing that I was worth it and that I deserved more – even if more meant being on my own and starting life over again. I’d made the right choice.

  April 2014

  “And you’re sure you’re really OK?” Skye asked for the hundredth time.

  I sighed and nodded in confirmation. “Of course I am. Will you stop worrying about me? This has been coming for a long time. To be honest, I’m glad it’s over with,” I admitted, shrugging.

  She gave me a meaningful look and took the hairbrush from my hand, taking hold of my shoulders and turning me in my seat. “Let me do your hair.”

  I smiled gratefully. I knew that wasn’t just what this was for; this was a supportive gesture because she thought I was going to be freaking out. I wasn’t though. Like I’d just assured her, I was totally fine and this had been coming for a long time. It should have happened years ago and then maybe I would have had a little more self-confidence and self-worth.

  Finn and I had our divorce finalised today, and a beautiful copy of my decree absolute had been delivered to me this morning in a stiff brown envelope. It had taken a lot of arguing before we finally got to this point. For some reason, Finn didn’t want to make our split permanent and had fought the divorce at every possibly stage. Why he wanted to hang on to our destructive relationship, I had no idea though. We were never really any good for one another. We both knew it, it had just taken us almost fourteen years of being together to finally admit it. But I’d had to take the leap and make this change because I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I couldn’t keep pretending that I was happy when, in reality, I was miserable. But finally today, eight months after I uttered the words ‘I want a divorce’, my wish was finally granted, and I couldn’t have been more relived about it.

  Coincidently, Brandon was throwing a rather large party because his business was celebrating a monumental three-year advertising contract that his company had just landed. The timing of the party worked out perfectly, and would be the perfect excuse for me to get off-my-face drunk without it looking like it was something to do with my divorce. Plus, I had a child-free weekend too because Theo was staying with Finn’s parents for the weekend.

  My son had taken the split a lot better than I thought he would. Deep down
he’d probably known that this was a long time coming too. He was almost fourteen now, so he wasn’t exactly a child any more – he knew how things worked. He’d caught me crying on more than one occasion over the years when I’d let Finn’s escapades get me down. I’d never spoken to Theo about Finn’s cheating ways, but it seemed that he knew anyway somehow. Even though he had always been a decent dad, Theo still held a lot of resentment towards his father for hurting me, and they were currently going through a particularly rocky patch that I hoped they remedied soon.

  I smiled as my sister styled my hair, and wrapped my arm around Evie’s shoulder. My niece was now eight years old. She was beautiful, and the perfect image of her mother – except she didn’t have Skye’s feisty spirit, she was more laid back and chilled like her dad.

  “Auntie Bronwyn, why didn’t Theo come again?” she asked, pouting.

  I smiled teasingly. Evie had a real soft spot for my teenager, though he didn’t really like hanging out with an eight year old. “He’s looking after his nan for the weekend. She needed him to help her with some stuff,” I lied. Truth be told, Theo had been invited to the party too, but I’d just needed a little break from him. He was turning into a stroppy little thing, and we were clashing every day at the moment. He definitely lacked a strong male presence in his life. The one he did have wasn’t exactly a great role model, so Theo was hanging out in the streets, spraying on walls and being a general pain in the arse. Last week he’d been brought home to me in a police car because he threw a bag of dog mess at a patrol car. Just yesterday he’d punched another boy in the face because the other kid laughed at Theo’s old fashioned mobile phone. I was struggling, seriously struggling, and this weekend was supposed to give me a break.

  “Aww, I miss Theo,” Evie whined.

  I patted her on the head. “Come stay at mine in a couple of weeks and I’ll make him play with you for the whole weekend,” I suggested, eyeing Skye in the mirror to make sure that was OK, because I could quickly backtrack if it wasn’t. She nodded and Evie screeched happily, clapping her hands excitedly. I grinned slyly. That was punishment and a half for my little rule-breaker – he was going to hate me for that one.

  After Skye was done making my hair look really cute in a little up-do, I slapped on a little make-up and did a twirl. “How do I look?” I asked. I already knew the answer. I looked like a stressed, overworked single mum with no money. In one word, I looked exactly like I felt inside: shit.

  Skye smiled and clasped her hands together. “You look beautiful, Bronwyn. Here, let me find you a necklace that would look perfect with that dress,” she gushed, leaning over her dresser and pulling out a jewellery box, rooting through it with a small frown.

  I laughed uncomfortably. “Skye, I can’t wear your jewellery too. I already borrowed this dress,” I protested, brushing my fingers down the expensive designer silk dress I was wearing. I’d never had anything quite so luxurious or expensive wrapped around me. I couldn’t take advantage of my sister any more than I already was.

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh just hush already,” she ordered, pulling out a delicate gold necklace with a beautiful flower hanging on the centre. I’d seen her wear it and it was always one of my favourites of hers, she knew that. “This would be perfect,” she gushed, setting the box back down. “Turn around and I’ll put it on you.”

  I groaned in protest, but turned as instructed, knowing she’d only whine and whine until I conceded anyway. When she’d set the beautiful thing around my neck, I looked at myself in the mirror and chewed on my lip. Skye looped her arm through mine and smiled. My heart sank. I felt so plain, ugly and worthless standing next to Skye. She was gorgeous, made even more so by the expensive highlights in her hair, the lash extensions and the manicure. She and Brandon had always been on the opposite side of the breadline to me. Skye had probably never worked a hard day in her life. Me, on the other hand… I could see the wrinkles forming around my eyes where I had stresses and worries that kept me awake well into the night. My nails weren’t perfectly long and shaped like hers were; instead, they were short and broken because of too much washing up in the kitchen of the café and scrubbing of office buildings. I looked like I was playing dress-up in her expensive-looking dress. I actually detested myself.

  My eyes swam with tears, so I looked away to Evie. “What about you then, sweetie pie, are you getting all dressed up for Daddy’s party?” I asked, looking down at her in her pyjamas.

  She nodded and gripped my hand, practically dragging me out of Skye’s bedroom. In the hallway, I came face to face with Brandon. He smiled warmly as he looked me over in my borrowed clothes. “Wow, Bronwyn, you look amazing,” he praised. It wasn’t a creepy flirty comment though, he didn’t view me like that, he certainly always treated me as his little sister too. In fact, I’d never seen Brandon look at anyone other than his wife – unlike my cheating ex-husband. Skye never had any problems keeping her man’s attention. He’d never strayed once; he was still as in love with her today as he was when they first got together all those years ago. I knew that was because Skye was a special person, and I was just… Bronwyn Reynolds, soon to be Bronwyn Johnson again as soon as I signed that change of name form.

  “Thanks. I’d better go get Evie dressed. We have to leave soon, I guess,” I replied, shrugging.

  He nodded. “Yeah, about half an hour or so.”

  The party was being held in a function room in the biggest and grandest hotel just outside Bath. As soon as we walked into the room, I wanted to leave. I was incredibly out of my depth amongst these people. I’d met a few of them before at other events, but the way they held themselves made me cringe inwardly because I knew I would never blend in.

  When a young, pretty waitress walked past me carrying a tray of expensive-looking canapés, I immediately felt like a fat, ugly frump. Her body, although covered in a smart uniform, was long and lean – the total opposite of mine. She would have been the type of girl that Finn would sniff around if he had come with me tonight.

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to stop thinking about Finn. No more tonight will that arsehole’s name cross my mind! I vowed. I decided that every time I thought his name, I would do a shot – one that burnt my throat and made me heave.

  Out of nowhere, a dark blonde head appeared at Brandon’s side. My breath caught in my throat as it did every time I saw him. Harrison Baxter. The one that made my panties wet every time he smiled at me. I looked him over and tried not to swoon. He was wearing black suit trousers, sexy little black boots and a grey button-up shirt that he wore unbuttoned a little, exposing the top of his chest. My tongue wet my lips as I imagined kissing that exposed patch of chest, running my lips down his body and maybe biting him a little.

  His eyes flicked over to me, and a little grin crossed his face. Oh God. He was beautiful; I’d always thought that, ever since the first time I met him when Evie was born. Every time I saw this man he made my knees tremble and my hand itch to stroke his face and lick his luscious lips. Somehow, he managed to look better the older he got. I had no idea how, at thirty-seven, he was still single.

  “Hey, Bronwyn,” he greeted warmly, stepping closer to me.

  I smiled back, trying not to ravage him with my eyes. “Hi. You all right?” I asked politely. My eyes flicked to the bar and I knew I needed a drink if I was to survive this party.

  “Yeah I’m good. I didn’t know you were coming tonight. You look great.”

  Great? Liar. I don’t look great. I forced a smile and Skye disappeared off with Evie to find my mum who was apparently around somewhere. “Thanks. Nice party.”

  Thankfully, he and Brandon started talking about work then, so I slipped away – hopefully unnoticed – and headed to the bar, leaning on it heavily. When someone leant down next to me, I turned and smiled politely until I realised that it was the guy from the new Hugo Boss aftershave advert. My eyes immediately widened and somehow, it was like I’d developed a sudden case of Tourette syndrome.
“Oh my fuck! You’re… fuck… oh shit!” I cried excitedly, before slapping my hand over my mouth and blushing profusely.

  The guy recoiled, and a weak smile graced his lips as he looked at me like I was one of the little fangirls that probably followed him around daily. “Er… Hi. Can I get you a drink?” he offered, clearly uncomfortable with my psychotic staring that I just couldn’t seem to stop doing.

  I shook my head. My eyes were still wide and my throat was in the process of closing up because he was an actual, honest-to-goodness celebrity. “No, thanks,” I croaked. I backed up and practically ran to Brandon, gripping his arm and trying not to jump on the spot. “Oh God, the guy from the Hugo Boss ad is here. That model, the hot one with the sexy chin dimple!” I gasped.

  Brandon laughed and nodded. “Yeah, so?”

  “Yeah, so? Yeah, so? Are you freaking kidding me? He’s… oh my God, where the hell is Skye, this conversation is obviously lost on you,” I grumbled, looking around for her.

  Harrison stepped forward, squinting through the crowd to see the guy. “Let me guess, he’s a hot celebrity, and if you weren’t married you would be trying to bed him,” he stated, laughing wickedly.

  I grinned. “I’m not married any more, but I won’t be trying to bed him, that would just be embarrassing. But gosh damn he’s fine. Seriously, I might swoon at any second so be prepared to catch me,” I replied, not even a little bit joking.

  Harrison’s gaze snapped to mine as his eyes narrowed. “You’re not married? Since when?”

  “Since today.” I shrugged.

  He looked a little taken aback as his eyes flicked to Brandon. My brother-in-law nodded as if they were having some kind of secret conversation, and then Harrison turned to me with a smile that was so sexy it made even the Hugo Boss guy leave my mind. “So you’re divorced?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

  I nodded. “Yep.” My throat was still dry, reminding me that I hadn’t had a drink yet because of the whole running away from a hot celebrity thing earlier. “I want a drink. You want one?” I asked hopefully. Other than my mum and Skye, who were probably around somewhere, Harrison was the only other person who I knew in the room that I could be myself with.

  “Yeah, come on. Let’s go drink the free bar dry. I feel a drinking game is in order,” he suggested, grinning conspiratorially.

  My nose felt a little numb as I sat on the stool at the bar, sloshing back yet another drink as we played Truth or Dare. I was already drunk, so this game was getting better and better by the second. “OK, so I dare you to…” I looked around, trying to think of something good. “Go tell that guy over there that you’re gay and that you’d like to buy him a drink,” I instructed, giggling.

  Harrison gasped and looked at me like I was crazy. “Eric? He’s not even gay! I work with that guy,” he protested.

  I grinned, nodding. “I know.” I chuckled wickedly. “If you want to wimp out…” I raised one eyebrow teasingly, knowing he’d never back out; it just wasn’t in his nature.

  He groaned in frustration. “I’m starting to hate this game,” he muttered, pushing himself off of the stool, scowling at me.

  “And I’m starting to think this is the best game ever invented!” I countered, shooing him with my hand and laughing.