Part Thirty

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 Chapter Thirty

Sad, that was how Natasha would describe her life. Whilst she didn't want to throw anger and resentment at Torrie onto Bo, their attitudes were so similar that she couldn't see anything but him breaking her on the horizon. She'd avoided getting to close to anyone, other then Steph and her Nana H before she died, no one knew her. Not really. But Bo Holding had changed that, crashing into her life head on and throwing everything on it's head.

She had enjoyed that, loved being with a man who desired her so openly, wanted her so desperately, but it all came with a price, and that price was him walking away when he got what he wanted – the chance to go back to his life.

She was merely a means to an end, a way to ensure that he enjoyed his time here. she'd known and feared that from the start, before he was so dismissive, treated her in such a derogatory way. That was the catalyst, the sign she'd needed to withdraw, and when she asked him, almost begged him to tell her that he was willing to stay around, 'see how things went', he couldn't. And that was it, the stinger.


The front door to the apartment had closed a while ago, and as the tears had dried up, thought the shame, regret and anger would last a long time, she managed to drag herself out of the room.

Natasha

The folded paper, inscribed with her name sat on the small dining table in her open plan living area. She didn't read it for a long time, instead she cleared dishes, loaded the washing machine, planned her menu for the week, all the time, the letter seemed to grow bigger, flashing from it's position on the table.

She didn't want to read it, didn't want the guilt from his face, his reaction to influence her resolve.

But she couldn't ignore it.

I cannot apologise enough. You are the only good thing that I've found in this country. I admit that I have been difficult, ungrateful and selfish, that I haven't been the best back to you. But I want to be, I want to change, I want to appreciate life more than I have today.

Please don't tell me I've blown everything, let me at least be a friend? We're away at the end of the week, but tomorrow evening, I'll be at that Mexican across town, that place we went to, from seven.

I'll wait. I hope you'll come, just to let me talk. I want nothing more than that at the moment. If you don't come, I understand.

Just know that at worst I am self-centred, I never intended to be so awful to you.

I hope you'll give me a chance, but I know I don't deserve it.

Bo

She felt warmth at that, there was a level of genuineness to his words, but she wasn't going to bend, not now...not yet, anyway. Blowing her hair out of her eyes, she carried on with her chores, ignoring the large American man shaped hole in her life.



Bo had a shit Monday, college day. He didn't find the course all that inspiring, business and sport. One thing he loved the other, not so much. His first assignment had gone in, and he'd passed, but now it was hard core homework, two assignments due in the next couple of weeks, and a mind that couldn't concentrate on anything beyond the woman he'd pissed off.

He hit the gym late afternoon, but when he couldn't focus, he swam a few lengths, then got a massage. None of it worked, and he was anxious as he headed home, then showered, even thought he'd showered at the gym. Nothing made him feel ready for what felt like along walk, a lonely evening. His head was full of so many analogies, and whilst he was trying not to over dramatise his life, suddenly everything felt like it balanced on a knife edge.

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