Time goes fast, but then it also stands so still. Joshua and I are back in L.A. We have recovered, to an extent. We’re socializing again and we even have a party tonight at Carson’s house, although the fucker still annoys me. Thankfully, Adrian and Bridge are also going, so they will keep me sane. Joshua is coping but angrier than he has ever been, kicking someone’s ass every morning for sport. I once hated him fighting, but I now know that this is his therapy, this is his coping mechanism, and I need to let him fulfil that. He’s filed lawsuits of defamation against most major tabloids over his court case. He refuses to let go of all the hurtful stories they sold and the lies that made them money. I don’t blame him. On advice, suing them was the only way he can ensure that they don’t keep hounding us, that they back off and let us live our lives in peace. We have suffered enough and he is putting a loud and clear message out that he has the money to fight, and he is prepared to spend every last penny to ensure our privacy. Two magazine editors have already lost their jobs, but he wants more blood. He has four more names on his hit list and I don’t pity any of them one tiny bit. He’s an angry man on a mission.
It’s 2pm on a Friday, and I am at home alone. Bridget now works for Joshua three days a week, organising the company’s work conferences, and Joshua works from home when he can, I’m not ready to go back to work. To be honest, I don’t know if I ever will be ready? How can I be stable enough to look after someone else’s mental health when I still struggle with my own? I have started to study online and, oh, I’m having a dabble at writing a book. It’s totally shit, but I have the time, so why not try? It’s a historical romance. Joshua is reading it by the chapter, and I write when we go to bed at night. He keeps telling me that he’s going to have to lift his game if this is what guys in romance books do.
To be honest, I’m enjoying this time alone. I go to the gym… yes, you heard me right, I am going to the gym. Then I come home and study or write and potter around. We are looking for a new house to buy in Brentwood. Our apartment is gorgeous but Joshua misses his yard and pool. He wants a gym at home, and I wouldn’t mind a decorating project, or should I say, I wouldn’t mind a task to tackle with Adrian. My days are flying and I don’t feel lonely at all like I thought I would.
I try to concentrate as I look at my computer screen but my eyes keep wandering to the brown paper bag on my desk.
A pregnancy test. I bought it at the pharmacy this morning with Max.
I was going to take it tonight when Joshua got home, but I think I want to do it now. No, I should wait for him.
I go back to my writing but my eyes wander by themselves again to the brown bag.
For fifteen minutes I continue to torture myself until I can’t take it anymore. “Oh, fuck it.” I snatch the bag and rip it open. I narrow my eyes as I carefully read the instructions. I have never done one before. I haven’t taken the pill since I got back, but every month, like clockwork, my period has arrived. It’s a conversation that Joshua and I haven’t had. I know he doesn’t want me to feel pressured and is purposely not bringing it up. I just want to surprise him.
Ok, so I just pee on the stick and one line is negative and two lines is positive. Hmm, sounds easy enough.
I go to the bathroom and do my thing on the stick. Then I sit on the kitchen bench and I watch it. I tap my fingers on the bench as I wait. My eyes flick to the clock. It’s meant to take a few minutes, I suppose.
After the longest wait in history, there is only one line. What an anti climax. The front door opens. “Hi, Presh,” Joshua’s voice calls out through the apartment. Shit, I toss the test stick into the second drawer and slam it shut. I will deal with that later.
Joshua smiles as he comes around the corner and embraces me in his large arms. “Hello, my beautiful girl.”
I smile against his lips. “Hello, my Lamborghini.”
He kisses me gently. “How was your day?” he asks.
“It was good. How was yours?”
He shrugs. “Work was work.”
He yawns as he goes to the fridge in search of a drink.
“Do we have to go tonight?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Mmm.” He grumbles as he flicks the jug on and holds up a teabag.
I nod and smile. We don’t even have to talk when tea is involved.
“I suppose I had better work out what to wear,” I mutter to myself.
“Naked works for me.”
I smirk. “You always want me naked.”
He turns and cups my behind, pulling me to him aggressively as his tongue swipes slowly through my lips. “And you always comply,” he whispers.
I giggle into my Margarita glass like a fool. Bridget and I are well on our way to drunk heaven at Carson’s party, and we are finding everything and everyone hilarious. We’re standing to the left of the pool, near the cocktail bar, and Adrian and Joshua are just behind us, talking. The music is loud and pumping inside where the people are dancing.
I feel two hands slip around my hips. “Keep dancing like that and you are going to cop it,” he whispers in my ear.
I wiggle my hips in an exaggerated move.
“Bring it.” I smirk into the side of his face.
Ben and Bridget are on amicable terms, and by amicable, I mean not talking. He doesn’t come out with us anymore, which tells me that he still has feelings for her. She pretends that she doesn’t care but I know she does. He has gone to South Africa for a holiday. Adrian’s phone beeps a text in my hand and Bridget and I scream way too loudly. He smirks and takes it from us. At parties, in recent times, someone has been sending Adrian mysterious texts. The person doesn’t tell him who it is, just how beautiful he looks and how badly they want to fuck him. This is a mystery that is getting solved tonight. I have been holding his phone for an hour as we wait.
He reads it out:
Adrian you look as beautiful as ever.
I narrow my eyes as I think of a reply. “Write this. As do you, I am watching you.”
Bridget and I clink glasses.