My Ten-Year Crush by Olivia Spring
An extract from The Middle-Aged Virgin
Prologue
‘It’s over.’
I did it.
I said it.
Fuck.
I’d rehearsed those two words approximately ten million times in my head—whilst I was in the shower, in front of the mirror, on my way to and from work…probably even in my sleep. But saying them out loud was far more difficult than I’d imagined.
‘What the fuck, Sophia?’ snapped Rich, nostrils flaring. ‘What do you mean, it’s over?’
As I stared into his hazel eyes, I started to ask myself the same question.
How could I be ending the fifteen-year relationship with the guy I’d always considered to be the one?
I felt the beads of sweat forming on my powdered forehead and warm, salty tears trickling down my rouged cheeks, which now felt like they were on fire. This was serious. This was actually happening.
Shit. I said I’d be strong.
‘Earth to Sophia!’ screamed Rich, stomping his feet.
I snapped out of my thoughts. Now would probably be a good time to start explaining myself. Not least because the veins currently throbbing on Rich’s forehead appeared to indicate that he was on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Easier said than done, though, as with every second that passed, I realised the enormity of what I was doing.
The man standing in front of me wasn’t just a guy that came in pretty packaging. Rich was kind, intelligent, successful, financially secure, and faithful. He was a great listener and had been there for me through thick and thin. Qualities that, after numerous failed Tinder dates, my single friends had repeatedly vented, appeared to be rare in men these days.
Most women would have given their right and probably their left arm too for a man like him. So why the hell was I suddenly about to throw it all away?
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