Chapter 28 Wesley #2
“Wes, it’s not a rush job, but a big one.
” Just how big is he talking? More to the point, how the hell do I tell him I won’t do it, because the woman I’ve fallen for already has dreams of her own glamping site.
And the land we live on? It’s right behind Declan’s.
It’s too close, despite being separated by fields.
The council will never approve Shannon's dreams.
“Lucky for us,” he says, bringing me back to the here and now, “We’ve been approved for planning permission.
” He slaps a hand on my shoulder, but he may as well have punched me clean in the face.
“Now we just need the right man for the job.” No, no, this isn’t fucking happening.
I level my eyes with his, not caring if I piss him off.
“I’m sorry Declan. I can’t take this job on,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.
I can’t tell him the reason why, because it could have an impact on Shannon, and even though he’s been a good bloke to work for, he’s also living proof he’d do absolutely anything for his woman, and that would include removing all obstacles from her path.
But my refusal must have gone right over his head.
“There's a hundred grand in it for you… cash and materials paid for.” He slaps a palm on my shoulder and whispers, “Cash is king, Wes.” Then he walks away, yelling over his shoulder. “Think about it, Wesley.” He jumps in his Range Rover, leaving me to replay Shannon’s words over and over.
I’ve got to tell her, because I know for a fact, she’ll never pass that inspection or get the planning signed off.
“Fuck,” I bellow, the words echoing between the trees. She was scared to tell me, and now I’m the one left with the job of breaking her heart, tearing down her dreams. To others they may be small but not to her.. One thing’s for certain… I’m not doing it. He’ll have to find someone else.
Shannon means more to me than a hundred fucking grand.
The door slams shut behind me. It’s nearly five and if I’m going to meet Shannon at her parents’ I need to get a move on.
Heading towards the kitchen, I grab the blue label Scotch from the cupboard and stare at it.
I walk away, willing myself not to go down that rabbit hole.
Still my moods shot to shit, it’s been a day from absolute fucking hell.
Sitting myself down on the bench I start pulling off my work boots, planning on a quick shower, when my foot slides on the floor, and I spot it.
Just what I wanted to find on my fucking floor.
An invite from The Brown Envelope Anxiety club, in other words, one of those official letters nearly every Brit dreads.
I don’t give myself a chance to think before opening it. The words leaping off the page almost flooring me.
Megan’s solicitor has been instructed to look further into the estate. Assets, including any property.
“WHAT. THE. FUCK?”
There’s nothing left in me to give her. I’m on the bones of my arse, trying to claw my way back to something towards a comfortable living.
All I can see from her is pure greed, everything my parents worked hard for, handed over to her, and there’s fuck all I can do about it.
Crossing the room, I sink down into dad’s old recliner, the only chair he wouldn’t let mum throw out.
I remember sitting in it the day after he passed away with a shot of scotch, understanding why he liked the chair so much.
“Why the hell did you put her in your Will?” Speaking the words aloud to no one. The blame lays heavy on my chest. I should have told him the truth, but I didn’t want to worry him. Scared to admit we were having problems.
The urge to ring her and let her have both barrels is overwhelming. Hasn’t she done enough damage? Now she wants to take the one thing my mum and dad worked hard for, in their short lives.
My fucking home.
I don’t think about stopping, pulling out my phone, I dial her number.
“Why? Why are you doing this, Megan?” I'm shaking with rage, and the tears fall freely but I don't even care anymore, this time she’s gone too far.
“So, you got the letter?” Her fucking voice grates my shit.
“Why are you doing this to me Megan? Haven’t you done enough?” I take a breather and wipe my eyes. “Haven’t I given you enough?” The words come out croaky with raw emotion and pent-up anger.
“I only want what’s rightly mine.” I’ve never called a woman a bitch in my life, but I swear to fucking God, it is right on the end of my tongue.
“I’ve nothing else to give you… I can’t sell my house.
I’ll fucking fight you.” She’s silent for a moment.
“One hundred and twenty grand and I’ll walk away.
You’ll never hear from me again,” she replies, and my phone vibrates with a message.
I glance at the time — it’s already gone five. I’m late for Shannon.
“I don’t believe you,” I grind out.
“I’ll have it all drawn up officially.” She clears her throat.
“This is the second letter about this, Wesley.” Then I remember the last letter, the one I never had the chance to open for fear of more shit, and I didn’t want to ruin a perfect day with Shannon.
I should have dealt with it there and then …
dealt with this whole fucking mess before I ever let myself get closer to her.
“Look.” Her voice annoyingly calm. “If you give it to me in cash, I won’t come for more.” I think about it because there’s no doubt in my mind, Megan has done her research.
“You agree to do a settlement agreement?” I ask. It’s clear I haven’t got a fucking choice. Knowing exactly what my parent’s house and land are worth, but it means more to me than the money, God knows I could use the cash, but this… this is all I’ve got left of them.
A few photos, bits of jewellery.
That’s it.
“Yes, I will sign them,” she replies, blowing out a breath.
My next words might destroy everything I’ve built with Shannon, but what choice do I have?
“Fine, I’ll get you the money.” Ending the call, I pull up Declan's number from my contacts, my finger hovering over the call button. If I don’t do this, I’ll have no choice but to sell my parents’ home.