First Dates and Birthday Cakes by Isabel Murray EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Isabel Murray
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary roman
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Somewhere outside my bedroom window, a thrush greeted the dawn
with a truly obnoxious degree of enthusiasm.
I sighed and flopped onto my back, taking my phone with me. Holding
it up in front of my face, I stared at it, unblinking.
My regular Saturday alarm would go off in a couple of hours at eight
a.m., as it did every Saturday.
This wasn’t a normal Saturday.
This was a very specific Saturday, and to mark the very special occasion
about to occur, I’d woken early and set a timer. A countdown, if you will.
Here we go.
Ten seconds left. Nine. Eight…
I watched the screen as the numbers flicked down to zero. The alarm
blared.
Well.
That was it. It was over. Over and done with.
I just turned forty.
R.I.P. to my youth.
I slapped the alarm off, hauled the duvet up around my ears, and
hunkered in.
The phone on my bedside table rang. I ignored it.
After it had stopped and started three more times, I got the hint. Ravi
wasn’t going to give up.
I stuck my hand out, dragged my phone back under the covers with me,
and accepted the call.
“Happy birthday to youuuuuuu—” he began.
“Ravi, you know I hate that song.”
“Happy birthday to youuuuuu!”
“Stop singing.”
“Happy birthday, dear Benjamiiiiiin!”
“I’m hanging up.”
“No, you’re not. Happy birthday to you! I love you.”
I scowled into the darkness and mumbled, “I love you, too.”
“Aw. Thanks, buddy. All right. How are you doing today?”
“How am I doing? I just summited life, that’s how I’m doing. I’m
standing at the top of a mountain and it’s all downhill from here. Obviously,
I’m doing great.”
“Ben, are you freaking out?”
“Pfft,” I said. “No.”
“It sounds like you might be.”
And it sounded like he was smiling about it.
I glared at my phone. “I’m not freaking out. Why would I freak out? It’s
not as if my life is over. It’s not as if my youth is a memory. It’s not as if I
somehow turned into a forty-year-old civil engineer with high blood
pressure, enough grey hairs that I can’t even pretend they’re not there
anymore, and a mortgage I’ll be paying off until I’m sixty. If I even make it
to sixty.”
While I was on a roll and complaining about things, I had also
absolutely failed to acquire the loving partner with whom I was supposed to
walk into the sunset of my life, hand in aged hand.
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