Together Apart Read Free

on the plane. Surely, that had to be a good sign? He lay down on the sofa, pulling the blanket across his body. They’d talk tomorrow. Everything always looked better in the morning.

    7 September, 5.50 a.m.
     
    I haven’t slept at all. The bed feels so big without Adam in it, a nd I spen t all night with my face buried in the pillow because I didn’t want him to hear me crying. I’ve got no right to. After all, this whole situation is my own doing. I’m officially a fuck-up. I’m a horrible , horrible person. The look on his face when I said no – I can’t get it out of my head. It was like, in that instant, something in him shifted. I’ve broken his heart, and, worst of all, I can’t bring myself to tell him why.
    I wonder if he’s awake. The TV in the living room has been on all night. Maybe I could go and sit with him. We could talk and try to salvage something, and I could cuddle up to him, breathing in his smell and twirling his dark hair around my fingers like I always do. I could say it was just a shock, and I wasn’t thinking straight.
    If only I could. I love him. God, I love him – the very bones of him. But I can’t do it. I can’t marry him. I had to say no and I know, deep down, that it was the right thing to do, even though it’s killing me inside. He’ll eventually realise I’m not the kind of person he wants to marry. It’ll be better for him in the long run, even if he do esn’t know it yet.
    I really don’t want to get out of bed because when I do, I’m going to have to break his heart all over again. I just wish things could be different.

    Adam switched off the alarm on his phone as it started vibrating next to his head. He heard the shower running in the bathroom and slowly sat up, rubbing his neck. He’d spent the night lying on the lumpy sofa, drifting in and out of a twenty-four-hour news channel before finally falling asleep to the latest bulletin about a political uprising somewhere in the Middle East. He should have booked today off. Going back to the office the day after a holiday was always bad enough, but after the botched proposal and a crap night’s sleep, work was the last thing he was in the mood for. It wasn’t like it was a matter of life and death anyway – not like Sarah’s job. Being a social worker was important. People relied on her every day, and she had the power to change a person’s life with a single report. Meanwhile, he spent his days managing luxury properties and pandering to people who had more money than sense. Actually, he loved his job, but it didn’t suit his mood to admit it.
    He yawned as he made his way to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. When Sarah walked in with her dressing gown wrapped tightly around herself and a towel, turban-like, on her head, he handed her a cup.
    ‘I made you some coffee.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    She slowly took a sip and leaned against the cooker. He watched as she ran her finger around the rim of the cup and bit down on her lip, a telltale sign she was thinking about something. He needed to say something to end the silence that was getting heavier by t he second.
    ‘So, I think we need to talk.’
    She nodded. ‘I know. I’ve been thinking. Your proposal . . . It made me realise that I can’t do this anymore.’
    Adam drew his eyebrows together. ‘Do what?’
    ‘This. Us.’
    His heart almost leapt right out of his throat, and his cheek twitched as he willed himself not to show the alarm welling inside him. He had to stay in control.
    ‘Are you serious? Forgive me for being a bit dense here, but things were fine before. Are you seriously telling me you want to split up because I proposed? We don’t have to get married; I never intended to put pressure on you. There’s no reason we can’t still be together.’
    ‘It’s not just the proposal.’ Her voice trembled as she shook her head, looking down into her cup. ‘I just can’t be with you anymore. It’s not fair to either of us.’
    Her words