Back Rewrite the Stars
Chapters (38)
  1. Cover
  2. REWRITE THE STARS
  3. Dedication
  4. Author’s Note
  5. Epigraph
  6. i
  7. ii
  8. Chapter One
  9. Chapter Two
  10. Chapter Three
  11. Chapter Four
  12. Chapter Five
  13. Chapter Six
  14. Chapter Seven
  15. Chapter Eight
  16. Chapter Nine
  17. Chapter Ten
  18. Chapter Eleven
  19. Chapter Twelve
  20. Chapter Thirteen
  21. Chapter Fourteen
  22. Chapter Fifteen
  23. Chapter Sixteen
  24. Chapter Seventeen
  25. Chapter Eighteen
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. Chapter Twenty-One
  29. Chapter Twenty-Two
  30. Chapter Twenty-Three
  31. Chapter Twenty-Four
  32. Chapter Twenty-Five
  33. Chapter Twenty-Six
  34. Epilogue
  35. Acknowledgements
  36. About the Author
  37. Also by Emma Heatherington
  38. About the Publisher

Marjorie orders a coffee as she is designated driver for the afternoon and manages to get another poke in when I opt for a glass of white wine.

‘I suppose you may as well enjoy lazy Sundays like this while you can,’ she guffaws, watching every mouthful I take. ‘My Caroline has her hands full running after her twins day in, day out. She probably wouldn’t remember the last time she got to kick back and relax like this during the day, but then she is just so committed to her children! She had them young too, in her twenties, so she has still the energy to enjoy them.’

Ouch. My eyes widen in Jack’s direction for help.

‘Caroline texted me to say her big weekend with the girls is coming up soon,’ he says quickly, coming to my rescue. ‘You know the one she takes every six months or so? It normally takes them all a week at least to recover when they head off to – where is it again? Marbella? Long way to go without the children for someone so dedicated, but she deserves a break like the rest of us. We all have to live life how we choose to ourselves, don’t we?’

I have to excuse myself to use the bathroom to avoid the look on Marjorie’s face but, as always, Jack knows how to floor her, hook, line and sinker when she starts. To my relief, by the time I get back his parents are already talking about how they really need to go soon.

‘Chill out for a while,’ Jack says to them. ‘What’s your hurry? I thought you were going to have some lunch?’

Jack Sr rolls his eyes and finishes his pint of beer. ‘God forbid that we’d leave that damn cat for a whole afternoon!’ he says to us, swallowing his drink like he’s swallowing nails. ‘I swear our Tiddles has more say in what we do every day than I do! It’s time I took up golfing again.’

I feel sorry for Jack’s dad a lot of the time. In fact, seeing the two of them together is a gentle reminder of how lucky we are that Jack and I are so compatible. He makes me laugh, he knows when to push me and when to back off, and I still get a rush when I see him every evening when he comes in from work.