Page 48 of Stanton Unconditional

“Tash, I still think you should talk to him. Arrange to meet up in twelve months and tell him you love him.”

A weight of sadness sits heavily on my shoulders. “No. And don’t tell a soul about this conversation. At this point I can’t even trust the girls because I know they will tell Joshua or Cameron and then he won’t go. I’m setting him free. I want an unencumbered future with him, one where I am strong and confident and know for certain that he is with me for the woman I am now and not the girl he fell in love with seven years ago.”

Max walks up the hall and stands in the semi-lit doorway. “You finally wake up, sleepyhead?” He smirks.

I smile broadly. “What? Did you miss me or something?” I tease.

He tutts. “Yeah, like a hole in the head.” He winks, turns and walks back up the hall. “Promise me something, Tash.” I nod.

“If Joshua turns up here you will be honest with him.”

I am sorry

It meant nothing.

You’re overreacting.

My stomach drops. “He won’t. I know he won’t. He would be beyond mortified that his staff and brother saw him in tears the other day. His pride will keep him away.” I sigh sadly.

“Does that bother you?” she asks.

I shrug my shoulders as I contemplate her question. “That’s Joshua, he’s a proud man. He won’t beg again, I know that. His upset will turn to anger soon, and he will return to LA.” My eyes tear up at the painful thought.

“Please go to him, Tash,” Mum whispers.

I shake my head. “We just talked about this. I told you what I am doing. I am not giving up on us. I am just putting it on the backburner for a while.”

She shakes her head. “You are going to lose him,” she sighs

I pull my eyes away from hers in anger. “Like I said, if I do, he was never mine to start with.”

It’s Wednesday, 2.00 pm, and I am sitting in my office staring at my computer monitor trying desperately to rein in my grief. Thirty-two emails from Joshua just today and each day that number has risen. On the first day I got one with the subject ‘Joshua’, when I clicked on it I realized he had a read receipt on it so I couldn’t open it. I’m dying to know what he is trying to say, is he hurting as much as I am? Each day since then though the pattern has changed. He has started speaking to me through the subject line:

Natasha, listen to me.

Speak to me.

Say something!!!!

I love you.

Please.

I smirk as I read the subjects of today’s email in bold print. Can’t hold a good temper down for long, that’s my man. I’m glad he’s angry. It means he’s close to leaving Australia. He won’t put up with being ignored for too much longer. It’s not in his nature. I know he’s too proud to come over here and beg or make me listen. He probably would though if there wasn’t security everywhere. I now have four men trailing me at all times. It’s totally ridiculous. His irate email headings read:

Fucking speak to me.

You left me. Remember.

Sorry I am not as perfect as you.

You are going to regret this.

Speak to me or I will never forgive you.

Your last words to me were, I never want to see…

I fucking mean it.