Build a Man by Talli Roland

Author:Talli Roland [Roland, Talli]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Humor, romantic comedy, talli roland, Romance, Chick Lit, Contemporary Romance, womens fiction
Goodreads: 12757262
Publisher: Notting Hill Press
Published: 2011-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next day at the clinic stretches on forever, and I can’t stop thanking my lucky stars that it’s Friday. I’m so tired even a shot of Botox to the brain wouldn’t perk me up. Kirsty called around one last night to say she’d settled in at the hotel. I sigh, recalling the strained sound in her voice when I asked how it went with Tim. She didn’t even want to talk about it.

I couldn’t bear to lie next to Peter, so I fidgeted on the sofa for hours as his snores drifted from the bedroom. The low rumble – and the fact that he was clearly enjoying a good night’s sleep – sparked off even more irritation inside. With every passing minute, my indignation grew, until it was a blistering spot ready to pop. For God’s sake, it wasn’t like I’d asked the man to deliver Kirsty’s baby (there’s an image I don’t want in my head). Underneath it all, though, that uncomfortable feeling I’d experienced back at Kirsty’s was brewing. What kind of relationship is this, when it’s so lopsided; when the man I live with doesn’t really know – or, in the case of my tabloid ambitions, seem to care – what’s important to me? What would happen if I got pregnant, like Kirsty? Is Peter a man I’d want to be with?

When Peter got up this morning, he acted as if everything was normal, not even clocking my less than enthusiastic grunts in his direction. We’ve barely exchanged more than ten words today, but I don’t think he’s noticed – adding further fuel to my growing questions. He did notice the few Jaffa Cake crumbs I left lying around in retaliation, though.

At six o’clock, the last Botox Bitch has scuttled off to her mansion in the country, and I finally have a second to breathe before I need to hightail it out of here to rendezvous with Mia. Jeremy agreed to meet tonight at quarter to seven to discuss ‘dating strategies designed to ensnare his ideal woman’, and I’ve arranged to see Mia thirty minutes earlier at a nearby café to talk through our plan – after she reluctantly agreed to pose as my life advisory intern (ha!). I scan my list of questions, then cash up and yell out to Peter that I’m leaving.

I wait for a second, but there’s no response. Sighing, I slide off my stool and trudge to his office.

“I’m going now,” I say to his bowed head.

“All right.” He doesn’t even look up from the papers on his desk.

I turn away, dreading the thought of yet another silent, empty weekend ahead with only a supercilious cat for company. Grabbing my bag, I head into the street, breathing in the noise of the city.

It’s a nice night – the air feels almost balmy for mid-October – so when I get to the café, I plonk down at one of those shaky metal tables they always have out front. Mia’s not here

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