Second Chance by Jane Green

Author:Jane Green
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Death, Contemporary Women, London (England), Humorous, Family Life, General, Female friendship, Fiction, Domestic fiction
ISBN: 9780452289444
Publisher: Penguin Group USA
Published: 2008-06-15T02:43:37+00:00

An hour later Marcus is still locked in his office, the kids are bathed and happily playing with Play-Doh in the playroom. Marcus would have a fit if he saw them playing with Play-Doh after their baths, but frankly it was a toss – up between that and TV, and Holly figured that in Marcus’s mind Play – Doh would be the lesser of the two evils.

She runs up to her studio and clicks on her inbox. Just to see. If he loves me, he’ll have sent me a message, she finds herself thinking, reprimanding herself sharply. Grow up, she thinks, but she can’t help the flutter when she sees the email waiting for her.

In another room, a few miles away, Olivia is also checking her email. Stupid, stupid me, she thinks, battling the hope that there will be an email from Fred. Stupid, stupid me for jumping into bed with him, for allowing myself to feel that this might be something special, that he would have got back home to America and thought that he missed me. That perhaps there was enough here for us both to want to work at it.

But the truth is, Olivia doesn’t really want to work at it. Deep in her heart she knows that Fred was, exactly as Tom had said, just a fling. A lovely, sweet, gorgeous boy, but nowhere near settling down and having a relationship.

Olivia doesn’t want a walk down the aisle, but she is old enough and wise enough to acknowledge that her time for mere flings is over; and if she were to get involved with someone, it would be with a view to a long-term commitment.

For a couple of days there, as she and Fred had the most blissful time, she allowed herself to think, what if… But even then she knew that what ifs were unrealistic. And it wasn’t so much that she wanted Fred, it was more that she wanted him to want her, that even though their goodbye was mutual, her ego wanted him to have got back to America and found that he had fallen madly in love with her.

She even planned the conversation she would have with him. ‘Fred, darling,’ she would say in her best Katharine Hepburn voice, ‘you’re the most delicious boy, but you need to play the field. I know you think you’re in love with me, but it’s really not real. Go and enjoy yourself, get on with your life, and we’ll always have London.’

And yet, every night before she goes to bed, she checks her email to see if he’s written. There were a couple of exchanges when he first got back, a thank you for the most wonderful time in London, for being such a special friend, and wishes of luck and happiness in the future.

She wished him the same and was then astonished when all email correspondence stopped. Was that it? She let the grey start poking its roots back into her hair, sadly relegated her black dress to the back of the wardrobe.

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