Page 32 of The Plan
Chapter Seven
The soundof the doorbell drags me kicking and screaming from the best sleep of my life.
“Ugh,” I groan as I roll on to my back. “Blake, I need coffee. Strong coffee.”
No response.
I roll over to my side and I’m just about to shove his shoulder to wake him up when I open my eyes.
Empty.
“Blake?” I call.
No response.
He’s gone.
The doorbell goes again, reminding me why I’m awake. I pull the covers back and look down at my naked body. There are red marks on my breasts from Blake’s lips; just the sight stirs something inside me. I shake the thoughts away. He’s gone. Our time together clearly didn’t have the same impact on him. I throw my dressing gown over me and head to the front door. The deliveryman is halfway down the drive when I get there but he comes back when I call out and gives me a box. I don’t miss the double look I get; I haven’t seen myself yet, I can only imagine the state I’m in right now.
“Thank you,” I call after him.
I place the box on the table in favour of coffee. Tea is usually my go-to drink but when I’ve had a night of too much alcohol and not enough sleep, coffee is the only way to go. My phone rings while I’m waiting for the kettle. Hoping it’s Blake, I rush into the living room. As happy as I am to see that my solicitor’s still alive, I ignore it because I will definitely need caffeine in my system for that conversation.
I place my steaming mug down on the coffee table and grab the box that was delivered earlier. I’m not surprised when I pull it open to find a card inside wishing me a happy birthday from Juliette, Hugo and the kids. I don’t think she’s ever managed to remember anyone’s birthdays correctly—she’s even struggled with her own before now.
Smiling to myself at her uselessness, I continue to unwrap the presents inside. I laugh to myself when I see the contents. She’s been banging on about me reading them forever. By the time I’ve finished, I’ve got theFifty Shades of Greytrilogy along with two other series I’ve heard her talk about. I promised her years ago that I would read them but I never had time to order them, let alone open them.
I grab my phone and text her.
Me: Thank you for my mummy porn. Looking forward to meeting Mr. Grey!
Juliette: You’re welcome. Are you proud I got the right day this year?
I don’t have the heart to burst her bubble so I text back yes before making a start on my coffee.
Once I think I’m ready, I grab my phone again and dial my solicitor.
“Hi, it’s Addison Chapman-Webb. I’ve had a voicemail—”
“I’ll put you through now,” the assistant says, interrupting me.
“Mrs Chapman-Webb, how are you?” Sarah the solicitor greets cheerfully.
“It’s Addison,” I correct, hating the sound of my married name, “and I’m fine, thank you. I was expecting to hear from you before now. What’s going on?”
“Things haven’t really gone as I was expecting.”
“Oh.”
“Are you sitting down?”
“Yes, go on.”
“There’s no money, Addison.”
“What? We’ve got thousands that have been put away in accounts over the past few years. You need to look harder.”
“I’ve looked,” she says sadly. “Addison, your husband—”
