The Letters (Carnage #4)(30)

She stands and walks towards the door.

“I’ll go and pour us a wine. Ash should be here soon. Paige said she’ll be over once she showered and got herself together.”

“How is she?” I ask.

Paige has been modelling in South America for the last two months. While she was there, she got so sick that Jim had to fly over to be with her for a few weeks. She’d apparently recovered enough to finish the shoot but has flown home to stay with Jimmie and Len for a while.

“Too skinny and absolutely exhausted. Apparently, she has news but doesn’t wanna talk until she’s fully awake.”

She heads downstairs while I attempt to get my shit together.





CHAPTER 10


Georgia

We’ve piled three beanbags in a circle on my office floor and are sprawled out on them. The pile of letters I’ve already gone through is sitting in the middle, and I have the last few I haven’t yet read in my lap. Jimmie, Ash, and I drink wine as we make our way through Sean’s words.

There’s been tears and a few “Oh George,” comments as they’ve read, and moments where we’ve each read lines aloud to each other. Sean was in Jimmie’s life for even longer than he was in mine. She got him for the four years we were apart, and his death hit her hard. My subsequent suicide attempts led to Jim seeking help for the depression she was in, and she’d spent a few years on antidepressant and antianxiety medication. She’d sought the help she needed and was in a good place nowadays.

I have no secrets from these two, except one, everything else about my life they’re aware of and I have no issue with them reading the letters. The only one I haven’t shown them yet is the one that caused my melt down earlier.

A lot of the letters Sean’s written are just notes really. Words that are short and simple

-.

I watched the sunrise over a lake in Italy this morning. I wish you were here to see it with me. One day, G, one day I’ll bring you back here with me and we’ll experience this together. I love, and I miss you.

Sean x



He kept his promise. We made a few trips to Lake Como over the years, and we always woke early and watched the sunrise when we were there.



I’m in the back of a big stretch limo. It’s six in the evening and the streets of Paris are gridlocked. Our hotel is only supposed to be a half-hour drive from the airport, but we spent an hour signing autographs and posing for pictures before we could even leave, and now we’ve been sitting here in traffic for an hour, barely moving. I’m so over it, G. I’m sick of the travelling. I wish you’d change your mind and fly out here and meet me. I understand you don’t like this city, but shit, babe, it was five years ago. We’re together, all of that shit’s behind us. I’ll call you when, or if, we ever make it to the hotel. I miss you. I’m thinking of you. I just wanted you to know.

Love ya, G.

Sean

X



I tilt my head up and stare at my cloud-covered ceiling, trying to remember when he could’ve written this. I rarely went to Paris with him. I know it’s pretty, but for me, it most definitely was not the city of love. For me, it was the city of Whorely.

I’d found a photo earlier, it is of no one in particular, just a wide-angled lens shot of what is obviously back stage somewhere. I’d spotted the back of Sean’s head and a side view of Marley, but the face that had jumped out at me was that of Rocco Taylor. The man who had set out to ruin my life. I’d ripped the photo into tiny pieces and thrown in the bin. Then just for good measure, I’d emptied it into the sink and set light to each and every piece.

I knew he couldn’t hurt me. The evil bastard has been dead for a few years now. Accidental drug overdose all alone in a hotel room. Shame it couldn’t have been something much more painful, but still, dead was dead right?

I shuddered, and just for a few seconds, I felt guilty for thinking ill of the dead.

Then I spat on the ashes that remained in the sink.

“Fucker,” was only word I could think of saying as I wiped my chin.

“Unbreak My Heart” by Toni Braxton is playing over my office sound system, and I have to smile at the way every song on my playlist—no matter the era or genre seems to be relevant to my life, whether this is divine intervention or pure coincidence, I have no clue.

“Did you talk to Cam about getting a bit of tox in your chops?” Ashley asks me, while sliding across my beanbag and putting her head in my lap.

I move the pile of letters that had been sitting there before answering.

“I did.”

“Blatant no?” Ash asks as I stare down at her.

“Not a blatant no. He asked me to wait until I’m fifty.”

“What, why?” Jimmie looks up from the letter she is reading.

I shrug my shoulders. “He reckons I don’t need it yet. He’s worried it’ll change the way I look and I won’t be happy with the results.”

“But just a little preventative won’t hurt. He won’t even notice.” This from Ash.

“I’m not fussed; I can wait until I’m fifty. It’s no biggie. Anyway, we’ve done a deal.”

Ash smiles up at me and wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh yeah, what kind of deal?”

“You finally gonna let him have anal if you can have Botox, G,” Jimmie asks with a grin all over her face.