Read TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) for Free Online Page B

clock. Jumping up, fearing my eyes are playing tricks on me, I call out,
    ”Shit, it’s eleven o’clock.”
    “ No shit Sherlock. You really did need to catch some zees didn’t you?” She is laughing at the other
    end of the phone. “Get yourself a pen and paper. I’ll wait.”
    I stagger to my feet, rubbing my eyes, scraping back my hair and looking left and right for a pen
    and paper. I grab an unopened envelope and snatch a pen off the kitchen table. “Okay, what do you
    have for me?” I hold back on a yawn.
    “I’ve had a chat with the delectable Dominic and guess what … he’s been to a Christmas party at
    Alenka’s and I have the address for you. Ready?”
    “Ready.”
    “24, Oxford Gardens, Kensington. Did you get that?”
    “Yes, nice address ...”
    “Very. Now, let’s get down to more serious business, namely your engagement. I’m reading about
    it now in the Sunday papers. Did you know your Mr. P. has issued what reads like a press release?
    I’ve emailed it to you. When I saw it hon, I cried because you look so beautiful and so happy together.
    Do I have your attention now?”
    “Yes, I’m awake. I’ll take a look. Thanks for the address. I’ll pay her a visit later.” I take a look at
    myself in the mirror. My God, what a mess. I’ve never slept for 10 hours straight before. Making
    myself presentable will be like raising the dead.
    “No probs hon.”
    “By the way, did your personal trainer give you a good work out?” I snigger at the prospect of her
    reply.
    “Let’s just say he was able to reach the parts other trainers could not. I may need to include him in
    my weekly fitness regime.” Her laughter is so wicked, I hear her purring with satisfaction.
    “You’re a bad, bad girl Char. I bet he didn’t know what hit him?”
    “Don’t worry, I didn’t have to tie him down. In fact, I actually believe he thought he was seducing
    me. Bless.” She chuckles softly to herself.
    “I believe it.” I lick my lips, in need of some kind of refreshment. “I’m going to go caffeinate
    myself. I’ll be in touch.”
    “Okay, hon. Good luck. See ya.”
    “Thanks I’ll need it. Bye.”
    I sprint into the lounge and boot up my laptop while the coffee percolates, bubbling and dripping
    into the hot jug. The aroma fills the room and awakens my senses to the possibilities of elation or
    disappointment. Trembling with anticipation, I sit myself down and prepare to be stunned into
    consciousness.
    The headline reads: ‘Teacher Wins Heart of Stone’ and I need not read another line. I know
    instantly those are his words; no-one can understand the significance of them more than me. I spot the
    emotive verb used in the headline; he’s not so much accepting defeat as letting me win. He has no
    defence. The truth be known, neither do I.
    I look closely at the photograph of us on the terrace. For the first time in my life I cannot recognise
    myself: who the hell is that beautiful woman by his side? I’m pressing the fingers against my lips,
    holding back the gasps that come from knowing every dream I have ever had begins and ends with
    Ayden Stone. It’s 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. in Hong Kong, surely he must be out of his meetings by now.
    His phone rings and rings and goes to voicemail. I leave a message:
    “Hi, I slept in so have only just seen the press release. You said brace yourself and I did but there
    was no need. It’s beautifully written and the photograph of us is perfect. You were right about issuing
    it and I’m sorry I made such a fuss. Call me when you get a minute. Love you.”

    Having bathed, shaved, moisturised and styled my hair to within an inch of its life, I begin the
    laborious process of choosing clothes. What does a 27 year old woman wear to meet her fiancé’s ex,
    supermodel girlfriend? I want to feel comfortable and look good but not as if I’m trying too hard. It’s
    a difficult act to pull off.
    I check myself before leaving; pale blue skinny jeans with a