‘So how about it, then?’ he said as we came up for air. ‘How about we go somewhere right now, just the two of us? Together.’
‘Where?’ I rested my head on his shoulder as he stroked my hair.
‘Wherever you want.’
‘Wherever I want?’ I glanced up at him.
‘Yep. Maybe we could go somewhere hot and relax with one of your cocktails by the pool.’
‘Oooh, maybe we can really have sex on the beach.’ I smirked. ‘And this time I’m not talking about the cocktail…’
‘Mmm, I like the sound of that. Honestly, Em, I don’t care where I go, as long as it’s with you.’
‘Awww.’ I lifted my head up and kissed him. ‘I feel the same. But wait…you don’t have your passport. Or any clothes.’
‘Oh, yes, I do! Well, I don’t have any clothes, but I do have my passport. They have clothes shops in other countries, you know.’ he chuckled. ‘I can pick up something wherever we go.’
‘How come you have your passport?’
‘Well, I figured that if we didn’t get to the airport in time, then I’d just have to jump on a plane and follow you. I’ve been getting very good at getting on planes at the last minute to come and see you, you know.’
‘Wow.’ I smiled. ‘You’re amazing, Josh. Do you know that?’
‘Thanks. So are you. What do you reckon, then, Em? Fancy going on a nice long holiday with me? We can throw caution to the wind. Just rock up to the desk, pick a flight and jump on a plane to anywhere in the world and plan the rest of our lives together. How about it?’
‘My darling Josh,’ I said, taking him in my arms. ‘I can’t think of anything else I’d love to do more.’
Epilogue
I put down my paintbrush, took a step back and admired my work: a colourful world map I’d just finished painting in a school classroom. Another mural completed and another satisfied customer.
Since I set up Em’s Mural Designs ten months ago, I’d done lots of cool jobs: one of a coffee machine at Cuppa, a summer garden mural at a retirement home and painting cartoon characters inspired by The Lion King in a nursery for a new family. So many great projects. I’d even been commissioned to do a mural of the London skyline for the reception area of a cool fashion brand in Soho after pitching for the business myself. I know, right! Little old me actually sold myself not just on email, but also on the phone and in a face-to-face meeting. I’d certainly come a long way.
As well as my mural designs, I’d been doing all the illustrations for Josh’s EP and single covers and I loved it. Definitely beat drawing different shapes of poo any day.
Speaking of Josh, everything was going great. After returning from that impromptu two-week holiday in the Maldives a year ago, I decided to sell my flat and move in with him. It made sense. He had a lot more room there and I could use the large room at the back of his house as my studio. Plus, I was able to put the money I’d made from the sale in the bank, which gave me the financial freedom to set up my business without worrying where my next payslip was coming from.
Josh and I shared the mortgage, which was now in both of our names, and it had become our home. Our base. For now anyway. We’d spoken about maybe living abroad. It was definitely possible. We just had to decide where we’d like to settle. In the meantime, we planned to have lots of fun travelling whilst we did our ‘market research’.
Oh, and did I mention that Josh and I were engaged? He proposed unexpectedly during a trip to Spain. His proposal was amazing. So thoughtful and romantic. I couldn’t believe it when he dropped down on one knee. Naturally I said yes. We hadn’t set a date yet as I’ve had so much going on with my work and Josh has been preparing for his tour, but we’d start planning soon.
It was crazy to think that if I’d believed that silly tabloid story last year and let myself be ruled by my insecurities and preconceptions, all of this might never have happened. When I looked back on that whole Sasha misunderstanding, I cringed. I should have known from the start that I could have faith in Josh. I suppose back then, I hadn’t grown as much as I’d thought. I still believed that all men would cheat and lie. Not anymore, though. I trusted Josh one hundred per cent.
Was it weird seeing thousands of women around the world declaring their undying love for him on a daily basis, trying to hug him after a show or sliding into his DMs with messages telling him exactly what they’d love to do with him (often with explicit photos)? A little. But would I be worried if another tabloid rumour linked him to another woman again? Not anymore. Because I knew I couldn’t believe everything I saw on the internet. It came with the territory, and it was me that Josh loved. Me that he came home to. Me who he made love to and whose arms he fell asleep in every night. And for me that was enough. I felt totally secure and calm. Which was a really good feeling.
As well as feeling more secure about my relationship, I was more confident too. I worked out at the gym these days, but for fitness rather than because I was trying to live up to some sort of ideal standard of beauty. After reading all those negative comments on social media last year, I could have easily slipped back into hating my body, but I decided to appreciate the way I was made instead. So what if my bottom was big? Some people would pay good money to get a bum this size. I was proud of my figure, and so I was all for wearing clothes that accentuated rather than hid it.
My confidence also helped me to heal my relationship with social media. I was back on it again, but this time, rather than just looking at what other people were having for breakfast (which I still enjoyed seeing occasionally, by the way), my life no longer revolved around it. I was using it for good. It wasn’t about the number of followers or likes. It was more a way to express myself and get inspiration. Instagram allowed me to post photos of my work and follow other artists to stimulate my creativity and people who made me feel empowered. Rather than making me feel anxious, these days it was a source of positivity.
If I felt like it, sometimes I even posted photos of myself. But these days, I didn’t spend time agonising over them. I’d wasted so many years worrying about how I looked, getting the right angle, altering my photos and doing anything to make them look ‘perfect’. Like Paige, the life model, had said, perfection didn’t exist. Having lumps, bumps and cellulite was normal. We’re not made of stone. We all came in different shapes and sizes and I shouldn’t have to edit my appearance to please others.
Before Chloe had set that challenge, I’d become so used to seeing airbrushed images that I’d thought they were normal. But really it was fake. A lot of what people posted online wasn’t a true reflection of reality. Each photo and caption was often carefully planned and edited, so I was comparing myself to things that weren’t even real. Trying to be someone I wasn’t. Doing things I didn’t want to just to impress people I didn’t even know. It was silly of me to measure my worth in double taps and to crave validation from strangers. Just because someone else might not think I was beautiful, it didn’t mean it was true. That was their opinion. It wasn’t a fact.
I didn’t need to fit in or pretend to be a fun person to make real friends or find a boyfriend. I just needed to be me. To love myself. And a real man, a man who truly loved me, wouldn’t expect me to change my appearance. He’d accept me exactly how I was. Just like Josh did. He loved my bum, my hair, my personality. All of me.
It was funny. Even though we’d stayed together for far too long, I didn’t regret my toxic relationship with Eric. It made me value what I had with Josh much more and also showed me the importance of not relying on anyone too much for my social circle. So even though things were brilliant with Josh, I still had my own interests and friends, which actually made our relationship stronger.
I’d kept up my life drawing and Spanish lessons. I met up once a month with Kat, who was still head over heels with Rob. Her kids loved him too and they’d now moved in together and were living as one big happy family.
And of course, I saw my amazing bestie Chloe as often as I could
.
I used my first few mural pay cheques and some money from the sale of my flat to book Chloe and her family on an all-expenses-paid trip to New York as a thank-you. Without her and her challenge, not only would I have rotted away alone in my flat, I might never have met Kat or Josh. And after that whole Sasha mix-up, if Chloe hadn’t intervened, I might never have discovered the truth.
I also encouraged Chloe to enter a national baking competition. She resisted at first, saying she was happy just making cakes for friends and family. But remembering how persistent she was with convincing me to get out more, I suggested that maybe it was time for her to step out of her comfort zone and try something new. In the end she agreed. And she won! Since then, she’s had lots of orders from swanky London cafés and even around the UK. It was so exciting. Who knew where it could lead?
I also bought Chloe a smartphone. Last time I checked it was still in the box, though. Baby steps…
Overall, since the offline challenge, I’d never felt happier both with my work and my love life. I still used my phone. There was no way I wanted to give it up. It allowed me to do so many amazing things. Without it I wouldn’t be able to use Google Maps when I got lost on my way to see new clients, listen to music on Spotify whilst I was painting, keep in touch with Kat on WhatsApp, or Facetime my parents (which I did a lot more now, rather than wasting time typing out essay-length texts).
Plus when Josh started his first solo world tour next month (booked with the help of his much more trustworthy management team) and I was right there beside him, my phone would allow me to check emails, take bookings and do lots of things remotely. I even had some international mural commissions lined up in New York and Barcelona, which funnily enough had come via my Instagram page, so I’d focus on those during the day and I’d be there at each gig every night. It had worked out perfectly. Sasha might even come along to one of the US concerts with her wife. Yep. As well as becoming a good friend of ours (still weird being pals with a megastar), she was now out, proud, married and still massively successful.
So having a phone or using apps wasn’t all bad. The difference was that now, I’d learnt to use them in moderation, alongside doing things in the real world. I actually enjoyed visiting a shop to buy things rather than always shopping online and having conversations with people face-to-face (my opening lines had improved a bit these days too). If I was out at an event or one of Josh’s gigs, I tried my best to say hello to people who looked like they were lonely or nervous, as I remembered how that felt. Accepting Chloe’s challenge and learning to live more of my life offline was definitely one of the best things I’d done.
Yes. Life was good. And even though it had already changed so much, I still felt like it was only just beginning. I was loving my new career, my new hobbies, my friends and of course spending time with my amazing fiancé. And I couldn’t wait to see what the future held for us.
We were looking forward to enjoying lots of new and exciting adventures. Em and Josh. Josh and Em.
Together.
Forever.
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Also by Olivia Spring
The Middle-Aged Virgin
Have you read my debut novel The Middle-Aged Virgin? Here’s what it’s about:
Newly Single And Seeking Spine-Tingles…
Sophia Huntingdon seems to have it all: a high-flying job running London’s coolest beauty PR agency, a lovely boyfriend and a dressing room filled with Louboutins.
But when tragedy strikes, Sophia realises that rather than living the dream, she’s actually in a monotonous relationship, with zero personal life. Her lack of activity in the bedroom is so apparent that her best friend declares her a MARGIN, or Middle-Aged Virgin—a term used for adults who have experienced a drought so long that they can’t remember the last time they had sex.
Determined to transform her life whilst she’s still young enough to enjoy it, Sophia hatches a plan to work less, live more and embark on exciting adventures, including rediscovering the electrifying passion she’s been craving.
But after finding the courage to end her fifteen-year relationship, how will Sophia, a self-confessed control freak, handle being newly single and navigating the unpredictable world of online dating?
If she does meet someone new, will she even remember what to do? And as an independent career woman, how much is Sophia really prepared to sacrifice for love?
The Middle-Aged Virgin is a funny, uplifting story of a smart single woman on a mission to find love and happiness and live life to the full.
* * *
Here's what readers are saying about it:
“I couldn’t put the book down. It’s one of the best romantic comedies I’ve read.” Amazon reader
“Life-affirming and empowering.” Chicklit Club
“Perfect holiday read.” Saira Khan, TV presenter & newspaper columnist
“Olivia has an innate knack for the sex scenes, which are very hot. This book was steamy, but with such a huge element of humour in it that when you read it you will certainly giggle throughout at the escapades.” Book Mad Jo
“Absolutely hilarious! A diverse, wise and poignant novel.” The Writing Garnet
* * *
Buy it here: The Middle-Aged Virgin
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?
* * *
Want to find out what happens next? Buy The Middle-Aged Virgin by Olivia Spring here:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Also by Olivia Spring
Only When It’s Love: Holding Out For Mr Right
Love Offline Page 31