Lost Angel (The List #1)

by N. K. Love

  Lost Angel

  The List Series

  Book 1

  ___________________

  by N K Love

  Novel Kind of Love

  Welcome to The List Series, which contains Lost Angel, Dirty Angel, Fallen Angel and Always Angel.

  You’re about to start the series with book one, which introduces you to the colourful characters and lays the groundwork for the series to run away with.

  By the end of this book, Beth will have hopefully found a little room inside your heart and you’ll be rooting for her happiness, ready to continue her journey throughout the entire series.

  Please note that this book is around 57,000 words. The remaining books in The List Series each exceed 100,000 words.

  Lost Angel, book one of The List Series, All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Novel Kind of Love – N K Love

  © 2016 Novel Kind of Love

  Cover design by Lauren Austin www.laustin.co

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews and teasers, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or part by any means existing without written permission from author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved worldwide. This book is licensed for your personal use only. No part of this work may be sold, manipulated, or reproduced in any format without express written permission for the author, except for brief quotations embodied in or reviews.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  What’s Next?

  The Author

  Acknowledgements

  The List

  Chapter One

  Saturday 14th March 2015

  6:21pm

  "Okay, this is fine. I can do this, I can. I am totally doing the right thing. Fuck... Am I?"

  As I make my way to where I'll be living for the foreseeable future, the realisation of the last few hours creeps up on me. We have split up, albeit amicably, my life's now heading down a different road to the one I was on this morning. This road features a major drop off at Separation Valley and no doubt a long dry stay in Singles Ville. This is life altering. This is major.

  Surely this second-guessing myself is only natural under the circumstances isn't it? Isn’t it? All things considered, the conversations I've just had with Mike were pretty damn calm and we're in absolute agreement that we wanted different things from our marriage.

  When it came to my marriage I never knew when to hold and when to fold. Today I folded. It’s the right choice, there’s no question about that, but it doesn’t make it less daunting.

  Mike is fully focused on his career and his ambition to become a notable architect, so doesn't want the distraction of children but I wholeheartedly want to be a mommy and make a family one day. He’s always known how I feel about this but I think we both figured that the other would eventually be swayed... Guess we got it wrong. We’re both too passionate about our ambitions to compromise, which screams volumes about what we must truly mean to each other.

  The sad truth is that we have slowly grown apart—painfully slowly. So much so, we didn’t even see it happening at first. Even when I did notice the changes I convinced myself otherwise.

  Subtle changes initially, that weren’t big enough to be ‘a thing’, but when I took a huge step back, those changes each turned into jigsaw pieces that started to form a scary and poignant picture. Little things, like how we wouldn’t notice anymore when each other were wearing new clothes. Or how I’d stopped checking the time as I drifted off to sleep—alone. Over time, I’d just gotten used to going to sleep alone and waking up to Mike fast asleep with his back to me, after he’d crept into bed. He’d either be working late in the office downstairs or his works office in the city, or just out at late business meetings. They were just a variety of reasons that all led to the same outcome for wifey; home alone.

  The biggest noticeable change for me was my reaction when he’d go away for a training course or golf trip or when he was travelling across the country and it made more sense for him to stay away rather than travel long hours. I’d usually fuss over him, helping him pack a bag, I’d make him a flask of coffee and a packed lunch for the journey, we’d Skype, text, call and I’d count down the hours ‘til he came home. But gradually I made less and less fuss and, more recently, I saw it as my chance to do what I wanted without having to get particular food cooked at certain times or iron shirts but more importantly, I loved not having to cater my schedule around Mikes so that we’d get to spend some time together. Not that a marriage shouldn’t involve compromise, of course it should, but from both of us. If I was a tree that swayed with the wind, he’d be a goddam concrete lamppost.

  I don’t blame Mike though, or me for that matter. Perhaps we’re both victims of circumstance.

  Neither of us are heartbroken, which is completely sad in itself, but there’s an unquestionable love between us that still remains. How could there not be when we’ve been together for nearly half of my life? Regrettably, our type of love wasn’t enough and I was naïve to believe otherwise. I have lost myself along the way and if I dwell on that for too long I know the fact will fill me with sickening remorse.

  I’m disappointed in myself for allowing my dreams of a happily ever after with Mike to cloud my judgment and steal away some important years of my life. Maybe deep down I resent him for that. The resounding truth is that it’s a good thing we’ve ended it now whilst some of our love can still be salvaged in the form of friendship and before we melt away anymore of our lives.

  We haven’t allowed it to continue to the point where our love mutates into something bitter and twisted. I have regular customers at work who seem to take pleasure in tearing chunks out of their partners at any given opportunity. But yet these customers are the ones who adore a beautiful romance series or a red hot passionate erotica novel.

  If you accept the heartache are you giving up on love? Is the line between love and hate really that fragile?

  There were no raised voices, just a civil discussion made through sadness and disappointment. Sadness because we’ve been together since high school and disappointment because I feel like I’m taking a huge step backwards. I’ve blindsided years of my life and become a failed wife regardless of my sacrifices.

  A conversation about having children was the catalyst today. We rarely argue, which I thought was a sign of a happy marriage but after today’s revelations, I’m considering that it was just another sign of the passion our relationship lacked. Today, rather than letting it go, for once I pushed back. I pushed him until he outright caved and admitted that he’s decided he doesn’t want children—as in ever. It was like his words balled into a fist and sucker punched me straight in my heart. I knew straightaway that that was the end and at that point it was just a matter of whether he knew it too.

  That led on to us finally talking about how things had changed between us over the years. It was overwhelming when the realisation of where the conversation was heading washed over us both. ‘Separation’ and eventua
lly ‘divorce’ weren’t words I took lightly.

  During our conversation the atmosphere change, as did our physical appearances. Tears of relief flowed. It may have been overwhelming for a moment but my reaction was calm, which shocked me. Mike’s approach mirrored mine and that shocked me more. He looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, which was the saddest part for me. It was one of the strangest experiences of my life. We sat on the sofa in silence, holding hands for ages and after everything we’d said, I could already feel the shift in our relationship. Once the words were out there, hanging in the air between us, it felt like we were friends supporting one another; not husband and wife.

  We'd agreed that he would stay in the house, which had been given to him by his parents when they suddenly emigrated to Australia. His father is a hotshot property developer and chose to root his business’ headquarters there, reaping in lucrative rewards for the upheaval. Mike immediately said he’d give me half the value to get me started on the property ladder myself. More importantly we knew that we would do our best to try the friendship route and stay in touch. Not sure whether that is a blessing or a curse yet but from the bitter divorcees I've met, I think we are unique to end this with genuine smiles on our tear stained faces.

  I'd packed methodically and taken my time; another advantage of amicable separations. There's no screaming and throwing hurtful insults at each other with heated flying tempers. There’s no emptying clothes into random bags by the handful, slamming the door behind you with a ‘Fuck you!’

  I called my best friend, Willow, and made arrangements to stay with her. She was predictably reassuring and repeatedly told me that I’m more than welcome to stay for however long I need to. It may be paranoia on my part but I got the feeling that the news wasn’t that much of a shock to her—she’s a very intuitive girl.

  On some level I suppose I also knew it was just a matter of time but continually slipped on my robust marigolds, reached for my well-used broom and swept anything untoward straight under the carpet. Isn't that why I'm in this predicament in the first place?

  If I had more balls I would have confronted Mike sooner about familygate, instead of just hinting and carelessly accepting the excuses that flowed so freely. I knew I’d never settle for being a childless wife in a passionless marriage, being fobbed off with the predictable ‘Not now, the timings just not right’ response time after time, after time. No, for that, I have nobody to blame but myself for thinking I could change somebody. How dare I, when I had no intention of changing myself for him?

  Over this past year we’ve barely had enough time to say ‘Hi’ and ‘Bye’ each day as Mike increasingly became more of a workaholic, which I hadn’t deemed possible. Now that was a sure sign of being on a slippery slope and apparently our spiky crampons had held on for long enough. So today we let go and now I’m freefalling.

  After everything that’s just happened, I’ve been given a short, sharp shove back into reality. It’s got me thinking that in years to come, when I do become a mommy, I want that child to have two parents that adore and crave each other. I had that when I grew up and it truly made a difference to my upbringing. My parents were openly affectionate and I’d always hear them saying sweet things to one another. Around the time I met Mike, I remember noticing things I hadn’t translated before; like the way my dad would look at my mom when they hadn’t seen each other all day. The sexual chemistry was there after all their years together and rather than making me cringe, I was mature enough by then to see that it was simply wonderful.

  These cloned roads are confusing so even though I’ve been here before, I rely on the GPS to negotiate me around the new housing development where Wills lives. I glance at the clock; 18:47. It's taken just over thirty minutes and I barely remember the journey, too preoccupied with trying to fathom out the maze of thoughts going on in my head.

  I pull up onto Willow’s driveway in my red Nissan Juke and take a few deep breaths, helping to slow down my thumping heart rate and regain some composure. I feel nervous and exhausted but muster the energy to get out and walk around to the back of the car to get my bags.

  I'm joined in silence by Willow who gives my shoulder a heartfelt squeeze. I lean my cheek into the top of her warm hand and close my eyes for a second. This is really really happening…

  We both fill our hands with as much of my life as we can carry and I follow her into the house. Another trip later and we place the last of my belongings on the floor in the entrance. Willow kicks the door from behind with her foot, sending it slamming shut. As if it represents the door of my marriage and how quickly that’s just slammed shut in my face, my whole body jumps. The floodgates open for my tears to unashamedly flow, as though they’d been patiently awaiting permission for their release.

  Willow comes over and holds my face in her hands, wiping away the mini meltdown as best she can. Looking me dead in the eye, she takes a deep breath as if getting ready to deliver a planned speech.

  “Listen B, it hurts now and there's no quick fix, it's going to be tough but—for what it’s worth—I think you’ve done the right thing… You deserve so much more than Mike was giving you and I know this heartache will be worth it in the end.” Now she looks distracted. “Of course, that is unless you decide to get back together… Shit, I’m messing this up… Anyway… I love you and will be here for you every step of the way no matter what happens. We will get through this together. Okay?"

  “Okay. Thank you.” I give her a pathetic attempt at a smile.

  Taking hold of my shoulders she gives me a gentle wake up shake.

  "Look, I know you feel like you've taken a step backwards but sometimes walking away has absolutely nothing to do with weakness and everything to do with strength. I'm so proud of you girl… It's time to start your ‘Next Chapter’."

  As I hear the name of my bookshop leave her lips, I feel its meaning. Those two simple words echo in my ears and they’re laden with all sorts of unknown opportunities, sparking the first taste of positivity I’ve felt all day. Wills is right.

  My chest is soaked in tears and we both look down as the last one gathers speed and glides between my breasts before she can catch it with her thumb. Evidently being all that was needed to trigger a fit of giggles between us. "Hmm, yes-s, I think I'm gonna enjoy having you and your generous cleavage around B."

  Willow flutters her incredibly long lashes at me and gives me an exaggerated wink, forcing a genuine smile this time. “How long have you had that ‘Next Chapter’ line up your sleeve?”

  “Like, five minutes before you got here! Insightful yeah? I knew you’d like that piece of inspiration.”

  Wills is slightly shorter than me at about 5’4”, with a slender figure and small pert breasts; the size that allows her to get away without wearing a bra, which she often takes advantage of. Her pale skin is the kind that doesn’t take well to sunbathing, so she sticks to fake bake. She has long, naturally auburn, wavy hair but I’ve probably seen it all colours of the rainbow at some point. Wills has the sort of dress sense that matches her personality; quirky, colourful, fun and unique – I’d probably label her style as Bohemian. One of many things I love about her is that she doesn’t worry about what others will think of her, being more than comfortable in her own skin and she has the biggest heart.

  We hug it out and then she heads off to thoughtfully run me a hot bubble bath, leaving me to reacquaint myself with the house.

  It’s a three bedroomed detached house that Willow bought outright as a new build around four years ago. I’ve been here lots and stayed over a couple of times when Mike was away on business. The centrally placed front door leads into an airy entranceway. The stairs are in front with the main living area to the left and the generously sized kitchen diner to the right. These two rooms span the length of the house and are then linked together via a smaller room situated behind the stairs, which functions as a utility area. There’s a nice sized back garden that Willow’s kept low mainte
nance with a decent sized patio, simple trimmed lawn, an allotment patch at the back and small potted plants and shrubs dotted about.

  Back inside, Wills has decorated everywhere with the view to creating space, maximising natural light and minimal furnishings. She’d chosen this property after speaking to the development firm and listening to their plans about crafting not only ecological, but also economically viable homes. She arranged for them to decorate everywhere white with natural coloured carpets or light wooden flooring. Her personal belongings and personality alone soon injects vibrant colours and character that transformed this house into her home.

  I do a couple of trips up the staircase to deposit my bags and cases into the guest bedroom, which is almost as large as Willows master suite. There’s also a handy Jack and Jill style adjoining bathroom. As you walk into the room there’s a dressing table and the bathroom on the left with the double bed directly opposite. There’s a built in wall of wardrobes adjacent to the doorway with a beautiful, large square window opposite, which lets in ample amounts of natural light. I grab my toiletries and fluffy dressing gown, the kind you can snuggle into and feel safe. Wills emerges from the bathroom and leaves me to it.