Page 51 of Not Yet Yours

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Page 51 of Not Yet Yours

“Hi,” I say and then realize I’m greeting an empty room.

Where the hell is she?

I think for a moment and the only conclusion I can come with is that she’s obviously popped out for something and there’s no reason she would have thought to call or text me to let me know because she wouldn’t know I would be back yet. I’ll give her half an hour to see if she’s popped out to grab something for lunch and if she’s not back by then, I’ll send her a message letting her know I’m done and see where she’s gotten to.

As I’m thinking this, I’m looking at my desk. Something is wrong and I can’t put my finger on what it is but there’s something on my desk that isn’t normally there. It’s nothing obvious like a used coffee cup or something of Harriet’s. I keep looking and then it hits me. It’s my paperweight. It’s been moved. It always sits at the back right of my desk and now it’s sitting there bang in the center of it. I frown. Why the hell wouldHarriet move that and why would she move it into such an inconvenient place?

Oh, I know. She must have left me a note letting me know where she is, and she’s pinned it beneath the paperweight because she knows I’ll know it’s been moved, and that way she knows I will see her note. Clever.

I move forward and go around my desk to sit down. I might as well do a bit more work after I’ve read the note until Harriet comes back. I drop into my seat and put my cell phone, which is still in my hand from getting out of the car, down on the desk beside my laptop, and I move the paperweight back to its correct spot and pick up the note from Harriet.

Except it’s not a note from Harriet. It’s not a note at all. No. It’s my worst nightmare personified, and I’m not even being a bit dramatic there. Short of death, it’s definitely the worst thing that could happen, because it means I will lose Harriet. I have already lost her if she’s seen this, and she obviously has.

Fuck. How has this happened?

Harriet has found my marriage certificate.

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

I didn’t even know the offending marriage certificate was in here. I should probably be mad that she’s been snooping about because I don’t remember seeing this thing in forever, certainly well over a decade, so she must have had a good look through everything to unearth it. The thing is though, I’m not mad. I just feel sick to the bottom of my stomach.

There is a definite message here without there having to be a handwritten note. Harriet found the marriage certificate and left because she thinks I’m married. Well, I mean technically she’s right. I am married, but it’s not what Harriet clearly thinks it is. It’s not like I’m juggling a wife and Harriet at the same time. I sigh and rub my hands over my face.

“Fuck,” I shout. “Fucking fuck.”

It seems that my vocabulary gets severely limited when I get dumped by the love of my life.

I get why Harriet left. Of course, I do. If I had found something like this at her place, I think I might have left too. I would have felt sick to my stomach, and I can imagine Harriet feeling the same and probably feeling it even more so than I would have because of her issues with commitment and trust.

God, this must have hit her like I don’t know what. Despite that though, Harriet knows me. She knows how much I love her, and she knows I would never lie to her or cheat on her because she knows that I would never intentionally do anything that I thought would hurt her. Or at least I thought she knew all of that. I wish she would have stayed to talk about it with me. I wish she could have given me the benefit of the doubt and let me explain this to her. I wish she could have trusted me that much.

I’m not just going to sit here and wallow in wishes and what ifs though. I don’t have time for that shit. I have to find Harriet and explain everything to her and throw myself at her mercy and hopefully have her forgive me enough that I can work on winning her back. I hope that’s still on the table once I explain.

I reach for my cell phone, but my hand is shaking so much I can’t quite grasp it. I pull my hand back. I can’t call Harriet like this. I won’t be able to get my words out properly and I think I will only have one chance to explain this to her if that. I don’t want to mess it up.

I take a couple of deep breaths and although it’s fair to say I don’t feel any better, my hands are shaking a bit less, and this time, I’m able to pick my cell phone up. Before I can do more than that, it starts to ring, and I see Cullen’s name on the screen.

That makes sense. Harriet would have gone to Max because she would have been upset and after hearing why she was upset I’m sure Max would have got in touch with Cullen to find out what the hell was going on. And of course, Cullen is now callingme to try and find out the answer to that question, because he is as in the dark as Harriet and Max are about all of this.

I tap on my cell phone’s screen and take Cullen’s call.

“Hey,” Cullen says. “Kind of a weird one, but…”

I don’t let him get any further. I’m not even going to attempt to explain this to Harriet over the phone via a third party. She deserves way better than that.

“I’m on my way over now,” I say, interrupting Cullen. “Don’t let Harriet leave.”

I pull my cell phone from my face and end the call, having said everything that needs to be said until I’m sitting there, face to face with Harriet again. I get up and run from my home office, down the hallway, through the living room, and out of my apartment, stopping only long enough to get my keys out of my pocket so that I can lock my apartment door behind me.

I run down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and then I burst out of the main front door of the building and run around to the parking spot where I jump into my car, start the engine, and leave the parking lot. I’m pleased that the roads are fairly quiet and so I put my foot down. Cullen’s place is only a couple of blocks away and I make it there in record time. I get parked easily enough and I dash from the car to the front door of the building. I buzz Cullen’s buzzer and the door pings as it unlocks.

I pull it right open and step inside. I take a deep breath as I head for Cullen’s apartment. This is it. This is going to be one of the most important conversations I have ever had in my life and the direction the rest of my life will take is all down to how this one conversation pans out.

I reach the door to Cullen’s apartment and send up a silent prayer; if nothing else in my life ever goes right again, please let this be the one thing that does.

With that thought fresh in my mind, I open the door and step into Cullen’s apartment.

Chapter Twenty-Nine




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