Lost Angel (The List #1)





The List




N K Love

Novel Kind of



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


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


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.

Chapter One


Saturday 14




kay, this is
. I can do this, I can.
I am totally doing the right thing.
... 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
. 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 eventually ‘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
, 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
‘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,
I think I'm gonna enjoy having
you and your
generous cleavage
around B."

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