Cuts Like An Angel (32 page)

Epilogue

Rosie

Rosie sat on her hands to keep from chewing her nails down to bloody nubs. She would breathe when the plane landed, and she saw William—waiting for her. Real. Not a dream. Or a mean part of the week long nightmare she’d spent in America.

Her mind went about with its frantic search for rest, flying over the huge cesspool that life had suddenly become.  There was no damn place to rest her weary thoughts. Everywhere and anywhere she attempted to set down, festered with past and present unfortunate events. And now future. All of it could
end her world. No,
would
end it.

Shut. Up. Rosie.

God she needed to survive the plane trip, that’s all. One hurdle at a time. Getting back to England and seeing William was still hers. She had to believe that every rumble under her ass did
not
spell doom, it did not spell fate coming to take it all away.

There was only
one
thing she didn’t want fate fucking with, and that was William. It could have her family, it could have her job, her reputation, her friends, but not him. That alone caused her to sit there in the seat for two hours, rigid with terror. Because sure as shit, if she wanted
anything,
then fate was a’comin’ for it.
Oh? What’s this? A little girl with dreams that came true? Tsk tsk. Can’t have that.

Maria
.

Shit. Her stomach rolled with nausea at the name. She’d stupidly asked William about the woman and the distraught look on his beautiful face had made her sick.
“You don’t have to tell me now,”
she’d said.
“We have time.”
Well, that time was when she returned. That was his vow and now she was sorry she’d ever asked. She could go without knowing who she was. Especially now, with everything that happened in America.

Her mind strayed to her purse and went straight to
it
. It …the storm that would tear her and William apart. Terror hit her for the hundredth time, the impact of what was coming, bringing a retch. She’d been to the closet-bathroom four times already. She closed her eyes as corresponding images that went with the nightmare swam in her head.

She panted for air, blinking them away as her hammering pulse fought to suffocate her.
Please God. Please don’t take this from me. Please. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. You know I am. I’m begging. I’m begging you to somehow make this work out. Please help me, help William.

Help us.

****

The End (ish)

Or as the Brittish-American might say it …

To Be Continue
d


The End 

Thank you so much for reading. Please feel free to drop me an email or visit me on Facebook.

Mason

[email protected]

https://www.facebook.com/msabre3