Waking Up With His Runaway Bride by Louisa George

Author:Louisa George [George, Louisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460377215
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chat message: 17:03: From Mim McCarthy

I am not Steph. I will not be bribed. You can’t buy me. Take them back. I don’t want them.

Chat message: 17:05: From Connor Wiseman

I will not take them back. They were a gift. You need them. You might not want them, but look—you are using them! I suspect double standards :-)

MIM smiled despite herself, and despite the overwhelming gut-wrenching anger she still felt for him. For herself. They had both handled everything so badly. And got nowhere.

Apart from two very disjointed phone calls that had led to nothing but grim silence for the last couple of days, this was the first time she’d had any meaningful contact with Connor. And the first time she’d felt anything like a smile cut through the stark, tight line of her ever-pressed-together lips.

An hour ago three shiny silver laptops tied up with pink and blue ribbons had arrived by courier. With a message: ‘I’m sorry.’

From a self-righteous prig like Connor, that was a big apology.

She glanced around the dishevelled admin room, at the laptop taking pride of place on the desk, up at Tassie, who seemed to be getting bigger by the day. Autumn was here, bringing dark nights and dark thoughts, and today the rain just hadn’t stopped. She really did need to fix that damp spot before he got back.

When would that be? He’d only been here a handful of times and yet the place seemed empty without him. Her bottom lip began to quiver, as it had developed a habit of doing in the last few days. Her head hurt, too. Acid bit into her stomach. Her joints hummed with an overwhelming fatigue. Pregnancy was playing dipsy with her body.

She bit down hard and tried to gain control.

But the mind-blowing, devastating truth was that she missed him. Missed sparking off with him about his darned rules. Missed laughing with him. Missed his smell. Which was madness, really. Stark, raving madness. She couldn’t miss him—couldn’t have any feelings for him at all. What had happened to independent Mim? Self-reliant Mim?

She’d worked too hard to start needing someone now. And God knew, she didn’t want a rerun of her own life, being dragged up by someone who didn’t want to give centre stage to their child. She didn’t want a rerun of her mother’s life either. Always relying on someone else. And always being let down.

Chat message: 17:20: From Mim McCarthy Take your %%#@% laptops and stick them where the sun doesn’t shine. And do not smiley face me

Chat message: 17:30: From Connor Wiseman :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)

Miriam, sadly I suspect this is the only way I can smile at you without getting glared at. Or my head bitten off. We need to talk.

Chat message: 18:00: From Mim McCarthy

I’m ignoring your smiley faces. Your puerile humour doesn’t amuse me.

Only my Nan ever called me Miriam. Last time I looked you weren’t my Nan.

Chat message: 18:01: From Connor Wiseman

Just looked ;-) I am definitely not your Nan.

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