Waiting For Sunday

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No more men. No more falling in love. Love leads to pain and there's no more room for that in Sunday William's life. Her journey to a happily ever after hasn't been so happy. Sunday has always been the one left behind, the one broken, the one holding the pieces of her heart in her hands. That's exactly where she finds herself when her boyfriend, Jake, breaks up with her out of nowhere. Except this time, Sunday makes a vow. That vow takes her to Seattle with the determination to build a new life and keep all men out of it. For a while, she keeps to her word and thrives in her new home and job at her yoga studio. Then, disaster strikes by the name of Oliver. He alone pulls the rug out from Sunday's plans, and the pair fall fast and hard, and for once, everything in Sunday's life seems perfect. Until the past comes knocking and begging for another chance. One woman. Two men. Three hearts. A decision to live for the future or forgive the past. What will Sunday choose?

Romance / Erotica
Samantha Groves
4.9 12 reviews
Age Rating:


Watching Jake pace back and forth across the living room, I know I should feel heartache, grief-stricken even, but I don’t. This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced being broken up with, and right now, the only difference is that it doesn’t hurt like it used too.

“Shouldn’t you be crying?” Jake asks, dumbfounded by my lack of emotion.

“No,” I answer bluntly, “Why on earth would I cry?”

“Because that’s what women do— they cry when someone breaks up with them,”

I scoff, amazed by his ignorance.

“Jake, could you just break up with me already, or are you going to drag this out because I have a plane to catch— literally,”

He stops pacing, looking at me again, his mouth poised to retaliate, but when he can see that I really just don’t care it snaps shut. With a quiet scoff and a shake of his head, he scoops his jacket up from the arm of the couch and turns swiftly on his heel. As he reaches the front door, he readies himself to pull the door open but instead turns, staring straight at me.

“So that’s it? No tears, no begging, no feelings at all?”

“Pretty much,”

With another dumfounded scoff he pulls the door open with so much force I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen from the weakened hinges.

“You’re unbelievable,”

“That I am. Oh—and Jake—don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out,” I call after him. The door slams behind him, ringing out for just a second throughout my small apartment.

Another one bites the dust.

I can never really explain why it is that I’m always the one who is left behind, why I’m always the one to be broken up with but honestly, I almost feel relieved, and now I’m making myself a vow.

No more men. No more falling in love.

Although it doesn’t hurt anymore, it doesn’t make it feel any less shit when it happens though.

As of just now, Jake Wilson was number five.

In the weeks before Jake, number five, before he had walked out of my apartment, I had made the decision to move and take my business with me.

I’d been fully trained in yoga, a job I loved more than anything, and it quickly became something I did part-time and then full time instead, but living where I do now, it just isn’t enough anymore, and I want to expand my client base. By moving to Seattle, I know I can do just that. The apartment was all but empty, and my suitcase was the only thing left. Everything had either been sold or would be with me by the time I reached the new house.

But as I took one last look behind me, I smiled briefly remembering all the good times I’d had here. Christmas and New Year, birthdays and parties just because, they had all been amazing. Then I remembered the breakups, and that’s when my smile faltered, my head hanging low, and right there and then I really knew I was making the right decision.

Closing the door behind me, I left the key above the doorframe next to the spare and told my landlord on the way out. He tried to hug me of course, the old pervert, with his beer belly and his scruffy beard, which, I was convinced had remnants of last nights dinner in it. With a polite smile, I stepped out onto the street and with one final deep breath, I held out my hand for a cab. As one pulled over, I took one last look at the building behind me—a place I had called home for the past eight years and smiled fondly as the cab driver pushed my suitcase into the trunk.

“Newark Airport please?” I smile, as I climb into the back of the cab.

“Off anywhere nice?”

“Seattle,” I reply, trying my best to remain polite. I don’t want to talk all the way there, not really, but luckily he doesn’t say anything else as he pulls out into the busy afternoon traffic.

When we arrive, I pay the fare and then step out, waiting as he pulls my suitcase from the trunk.

“Safe flight,”


“Will you be coming back?”

“No, I don’t plan on it,” I smile.

“Oh, well good luck,”

“Thanks,” I say, before walking into the airport.

Six hours later, the plane lands at Sea-Tac and as I leave the terminal, I hail another cab and give the driver the address for the house I’d bought. I’d got it for a steal considering what my apartment had cost in New York, so I had some spare money left over to be able to decorate it if it needed it, and by the looks of it—it would.

As he pulled up thirty minutes later, I took in a deep breath as I stepped out and smiled a knowing smile that this place would be a part of my fresh start. My new life. I’d miss my friends, and I’d always miss the familiar sounds of New York, but living so close to the city, I would never really be far away if I needed it, the hustle and bustle, the noise, and the sea of faces.

I’d stopped to collect the keys from the realtor and now as I stand in front of the door, I push the key into the lock, the anticipation of seeing the house for real rather than just from a computer screen was palpable.

It wasn’t a big property but it was big enough for me.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom and a spacious back yard. I could see myself out on the deck in the early morning and at dusk, my mat laid out, ready to relax and breathe in the fresh air. I’d hang a wind chime and listen to the birds in the trees out back and in the evening, I imagined sitting outside with a glass of rosé and a good book to read.

I hadn’t found a studio yet, but it was on my list of things to do, well that, and buying a car.

The house already came with a refrigerator and I’d set up the electricity and water before I arrived, so all I needed now was food. My furniture was due to arrive later on today so I’d at least have my bed to sleep in.

As I stepped out onto the front porch of the house, I sat down in the swing seat the previous owners had left behind, and as I swung smoothly back and forth, I took a minute to admire the neighbourhood. It was late Summer— so the sky was bright if not a little cool as the sun sat high in the sky at the back of the house.

I could just imagine filling the porch with potted flowers and setting pumpkins down on the white wooden stairs in the fall just in time for Halloween, and hang lights from the guttering when Christmas came around, it was something I’d always wanted to do but I’d not been able to in the apartment as I’d been on the fourth floor.

With a sudden grumble of my stomach, I pull my phone from the pocket of my jeans and search for the nearest grocery store. Luckily for me it was only a twenty-minute walk. As I locked the door behind me, I set off and pushed my headphones into my ears, selecting my favourite playlist of chilled music and with an instant smile I hear The Killers playing ‘Some Kind of Love’.

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