Read Online The Vintage Teacup Club by Vanessa Greene - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vanessa Greene
Ads: Link
herchest.
‘I’ve got an apartment in Brooklyn,’ Dylan continued. ‘And the city is amazing, there’s a real buzz here. I wake up each morning and can’t wait to get started.’
Hooray for you, Maggie thought. Her thoughts flicked to the adored wedding ring she’d put away in a box a few summers before. Dylan had put so much energy into his career back then that it had felt to Maggie as if there hadn’t been any left for their marriage. And now she had to listen to Dylan celebrating all he’d achieved without her? Really?
‘But the truth is it doesn’t feel right anymore, Maggie.’ Dylan’s voice softened. ‘None of it does. I don’t want a bachelor lifestyle. I want what the two of us had together. Every woman I meet, every flower arrangement I see, every flash of red hair in the street reminds me of you.’
Oh. Maggie took a gulp of wine this time.
‘I’m ready for something more,’ Dylan continued. ‘Something I wasn’t ready for when we broke up. I know you never wanted for us to get divorced – I made that happen and Maggie, I’m so, so sorry.’
Maggie mustered up a hesitant ‘OK’, although it really wasn’t.
‘Maggie, look, this is how it is. I’m coming to London at the end of next week. I want for us to talk face to face. Please hear me out. Will you? I hope that what we had is worth that?’
Dylan’s words hung in theair.
‘Let me think about it,’ Maggie said.
*
The morning sun streamed in through Maggie’s white muslin curtains as she woke to Mork mewing gently for food. She felt as if she’d hardly slept, the storm had been battering at the windows till the early morning and Dylan’s words had been going around and around in her head. Barely moving from the position she was in, she lazily reached out a hand to stroke the cat and caught sight of her alarm clock. The numbers glared, reprimanding her. Five past ten. Oh, darn it. She was due at Darlington Hall in twenty-five minutes and it would take her at least that just to drive there.
She’d been in a daze when she’d finally gone to bed last night and now she realised she must have forgotten to set the alarm. She got to her feet quickly and pulled her satin dressing gown off the hook and around her. Sweeping Mork up in her arms she headed downstairs, poured him out some cat biscuits and grabbed a glass of water. Where had she put those sketches again? She found her linen notebook on the breakfast bar and some other loose pages she’d made sketches on, and put them in her leather satchel alongside her Netbook, BlackBerry and diary.
There was definitely no time for a shower. No time at all. But could she really face turning up at Darlington Hall in this state? She ran upstairs, switched the shower on to warm up and tied her hair back in a pink sequinned scrunchie her niece Maisy had left on theside the last time she’d visited. She washed in a zingy grapefruit shower gel that made her feel a whole lot more ready to face the world. Back in her bedroom she peeked out of her window – after the storm there were pure blue skies and sunshine. She chose a pale green silk dress with Chinese-style fastening at the top and brown leather gladiator sandals. She pulled on her chunky gold bracelet and headed downstairs, satchel in hand. She got into her Beetle and looked down at the clock. Ten twenty-five. Argh.
As the gravel crunched under her tyres she saw there was another vehicle already pulled up at Darlington House – a battered pick-up truck with gardening tools in the back. She parked next to it, hopped out and walked, as fast as was dignified, up to the front door of the house. The bell rang grandly and Lucy opened the door.
‘I’m so sorry, Lucy,’ Maggie began. Lucy looked her up and down, unimpressed.
‘Look,’ Lucy began, ‘you’ve missed the pastries and we’ve started already, but come in. We’re in the drawing room.’ Maggie followed her through to a sunny room furnished with a chaise longue and
‘I’ve got an apartment in Brooklyn,’ Dylan continued. ‘And the city is amazing, there’s a real buzz here. I wake up each morning and can’t wait to get started.’
Hooray for you, Maggie thought. Her thoughts flicked to the adored wedding ring she’d put away in a box a few summers before. Dylan had put so much energy into his career back then that it had felt to Maggie as if there hadn’t been any left for their marriage. And now she had to listen to Dylan celebrating all he’d achieved without her? Really?
‘But the truth is it doesn’t feel right anymore, Maggie.’ Dylan’s voice softened. ‘None of it does. I don’t want a bachelor lifestyle. I want what the two of us had together. Every woman I meet, every flower arrangement I see, every flash of red hair in the street reminds me of you.’
Oh. Maggie took a gulp of wine this time.
‘I’m ready for something more,’ Dylan continued. ‘Something I wasn’t ready for when we broke up. I know you never wanted for us to get divorced – I made that happen and Maggie, I’m so, so sorry.’
Maggie mustered up a hesitant ‘OK’, although it really wasn’t.
‘Maggie, look, this is how it is. I’m coming to London at the end of next week. I want for us to talk face to face. Please hear me out. Will you? I hope that what we had is worth that?’
Dylan’s words hung in theair.
‘Let me think about it,’ Maggie said.
*
The morning sun streamed in through Maggie’s white muslin curtains as she woke to Mork mewing gently for food. She felt as if she’d hardly slept, the storm had been battering at the windows till the early morning and Dylan’s words had been going around and around in her head. Barely moving from the position she was in, she lazily reached out a hand to stroke the cat and caught sight of her alarm clock. The numbers glared, reprimanding her. Five past ten. Oh, darn it. She was due at Darlington Hall in twenty-five minutes and it would take her at least that just to drive there.
She’d been in a daze when she’d finally gone to bed last night and now she realised she must have forgotten to set the alarm. She got to her feet quickly and pulled her satin dressing gown off the hook and around her. Sweeping Mork up in her arms she headed downstairs, poured him out some cat biscuits and grabbed a glass of water. Where had she put those sketches again? She found her linen notebook on the breakfast bar and some other loose pages she’d made sketches on, and put them in her leather satchel alongside her Netbook, BlackBerry and diary.
There was definitely no time for a shower. No time at all. But could she really face turning up at Darlington Hall in this state? She ran upstairs, switched the shower on to warm up and tied her hair back in a pink sequinned scrunchie her niece Maisy had left on theside the last time she’d visited. She washed in a zingy grapefruit shower gel that made her feel a whole lot more ready to face the world. Back in her bedroom she peeked out of her window – after the storm there were pure blue skies and sunshine. She chose a pale green silk dress with Chinese-style fastening at the top and brown leather gladiator sandals. She pulled on her chunky gold bracelet and headed downstairs, satchel in hand. She got into her Beetle and looked down at the clock. Ten twenty-five. Argh.
As the gravel crunched under her tyres she saw there was another vehicle already pulled up at Darlington House – a battered pick-up truck with gardening tools in the back. She parked next to it, hopped out and walked, as fast as was dignified, up to the front door of the house. The bell rang grandly and Lucy opened the door.
‘I’m so sorry, Lucy,’ Maggie began. Lucy looked her up and down, unimpressed.
‘Look,’ Lucy began, ‘you’ve missed the pastries and we’ve started already, but come in. We’re in the drawing room.’ Maggie followed her through to a sunny room furnished with a chaise longue and
Similar Books
