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Back Because She Loves Me Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication Page
  4. Contents
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Ninteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-one
  26. Twenty-two
  27. Twenty-three
  28. Twenty-four
  29. Twenty-five
  30. Twenty-six
  31. Twenty-seven
  32. Twenty-eight
  33. Twenty-nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-one
  36. Thirty-two
  37. Thirty-three
  38. Thirty-four
  39. Thirty-five
  40. Thirty-six
  41. Thirty-seven
  42. Thirty-eight
  43. Thirty-nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-one
  46. Forty-two
  47. Epilogue
  48. Letter From the Author
  49. Acknowledgements
  50. About the Author

I was woken by the insistent sound of the door buzzer. I lifted my head and it was like being punched in the face. The room was bright with sunlight and I didn’t know where I was. Then I looked beside me and saw Sasha, the covers thrown off, arms and legs akimbo. She was naked. I was naked too.

Oh shit. We hadn’t . . . had we? I tried desperately to remember. But the last thing I could recall was crawling into bed, Sasha asking me to hold her. No sex. I didn’t think we had, was sure I would remember it.

The buzzer sounded again, like a giant angry wasp. Sasha moaned and rolled over, exposing her pale buttocks. I covered her with the quilt, pulled on my jeans and T-shirt, which were dumped at the end of the bed, and walked into the living room to look out of the front window to see who was ringing so insistently.

It was Charlie. I stepped back quickly from the window, just as her head turned. Her face was flushed with anger. I was sure she had spotted me.

I noticed my phone on the sofa, and switched it on. It immediately started vibrating with notifications: seven missed calls from Charlie this morning, a couple from my sister, a text from Charlie that was so long that it filled the screen. Before I could read it, the phone, which had been on one per cent battery when I turned it on, died.

The door buzzed again, and Sasha came into the room, a dressing gown wrapped round her. She looked like one of the walking dead, her hair Medusa-like, eyes like a dying panda’s.

‘It’s Charlie,’ I said.

She peeked out the window. ‘Don’t let her in.’

‘I don’t want to hide from her,’ I said.

‘Why not?’

‘Because—’ I couldn’t find the words. Because I was a man, not a mouse? Because I felt I owed Charlie the common decency to talk to her? Or was it that I wanted to see her? This was the real reason. I missed her, was worried about her. Had she spent the night in a cell? Was it cold? Were they horrible to her?

My thoughts must have been evident on my face because Sasha said, ‘Go on then. Go and talk to her. Just, please, don’t tell her about last night. I don’t want her coming in here trying to kill me.’

Before I could respond, ask Sasha if she remembered what had happened when we’d gone to bed, she had locked herself in the bathroom.

I put on my socks, shoes and coat, went down the stairs and, after taking a deep breath, opened the front door.