Page 8 of Promise Me Ever After
The soundof seagulls fighting woke me up. I cracked open an eyelid only to be blinded by sunlight streaming directly onto my face from the gap between the curtains. I groaned and rolled over to hide my face. Right now, I only had a mattress on the floor until I found some time to look for a proper bed frame. Where I’d positioned it was apparently the perfect spot for the sun to wake me up.
The next few hours stretched out in front of me. The meeting at the Ealynn Marina Hotel was this afternoon. I needed to do something more worthwhile than getting sucked into the rabbit hole that was social media until then.
I groaned again, remembering how I’d stalked Russ’s profile last night. He’d been tagged in a post by the woman I’d found on our sofa.
Eliza.
How dare she!
How dare he?
I needed to forget about that bastard.
I needed to move on.
Wallowing in what might have been was no good to me.
My phone rang. Reluctantly, I answered it. “Hey, Darcy.”
“Georgie, what time do you need to be at work? I could do with some help unpacking this morning’s orders.”
I huffed at my sister’s request. “Surely you have staff for that?”
“Yeah, but I’d have to pay them,” she shot back. “And we can talk about hen night plans. Please, Georgie?”
“I’ve got a meeting this afternoon.”
“Ooo, fancy!”
“If you throw in lunch, I’ll come and help.” It wasn’t as if I had anything better to do, and it would stop me from commenting on that woman’s post of Russ.
“Deal. See you in half an hour?”
Nothing like giving a girl time to get ready. “Sure.”
Forty-five minutes later, I stood by the counter in Itsy Bitsys, surrounded by boxes. It was like Groundhog Day; I’d only just finished unpacking at home.
“Where do you want this?” I held up a satin slip of a dress—or lingerie—I couldn’t be sure.
Darcy looked up from where she was folding sets of camisoles and French knickers in a similar satin to the garment I held. “Hang on, I need to set up a whole new section for those. Pop it over on that rail.” She pointed to a rack filled with silk pyjamas and nightshirts.
I twirled across the floor, singing ‘Look At Me I’m Sandra Dee’at the top of my voice.
Darcy stopped what she was doing and stared at me, laughing. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you so happy.”
“It’s all an act. I’m pretending in case any customers come in,” I bluffed.
“Seriously though, Georgie, how are you?” My sister set down the knickers she’d been folding and fixed me with a sympathetic look.
I’d been in Ealynn Sands a little over a week. The constricted, heavy feeling in my chest had started to lift. My first shift in my new job had gone well and there was a definite perk there in the shape of Alex Kane. Even if I could only look but not touch.
I planned to stay strong. No matter how fucking hot he was.
“I’ll be okay,” I admitted. “I mean, I still want to rip Russ’s nuts off and shove them down his throat.”
The last part of my sentence was met by open-mouthed gasps from the two women who had entered the shop at that exact moment.
“It’s fine, he cheated on me,” I explained, then went about unpacking more stock.
