7 Years By Graham Novels & Stories

"Gemma, we agreed on ten years. That time is up now. I'd like to leave with Kira." "You know he never liked her," she added quietly. In the quiet of the coffee house, Josie Carr spoke with a bitter expression. She had lived with Graham Holloway for ten years—ten long years, and still, she hadn't managed to thaw his heart. Ten years ago, Graham's first love had left him and gone abroad. After that, he fell apart, sinking into a haze of alcohol and despair. He barely stepped outside the house.

“Because after that night, I couldn’t get over her.” He pointed at himself. “Six years.” Then he pointed at Elise. “Six years… and she didn’t even remember me.” Laughter filled the air again. “Yes,” Graham continued, nodding solemnly. “Imagine carrying the memory of a life-changing romantic encounter for six years… only to find out the other person filed you under ‘Unknown Man.’”

He ran to me, panting heavily, but his eyes were shining with an unusually bright light. It was a light I hadn't seen in his eyes for a very long time. A light mixed with nervousness, anticipation, and even a bit of boyish anxiety. He pulled the velvet box from his sea-sprayed jacket and snapped it open. Then, he dropped to one knee. "Chloe." "It's been seven years. Thank you for walking these seven years with me." "I know I haven't been good enough, that I've put you through a lot. But please believe me, from this day forward—"

Then Helen and Richard left, saying that they would come to see me tomorrow. Jeffrey stood outside the door, hesitant to leave. "Audrey, we can never be together again, right?" Hearing this, Kash wanted to go up and hit him, but I stopped Kash. "Yes. "I’ve been unhappy for the past seven years. Jeffrey, how many seven years are there in one’s life?"

“What happened seven years ago?” “We had to fight for you in silence and secrecy.” My dad started and it goes on until the last drop of the wine my parent's house help, Gemma, served had been polished and I have a clear vision in my head on what had they have to go through all those years ago. Gus, Killiad, and Gustavo's involvement in locking Brit's gang for seven years and the toll it took on my parents’ account. ‘Cause, let's face it, fighting three powerful families would put a strain on anyone's bank account how much wealth they have.

He minus the 2020 to 1988 and her eyes winded after knowing his already thirty years old. "What the heck? That man is already thirty years old? And how many years our gap is...)" she paused and counts in her fingers, "Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, and thirty-two—the fudge! Seven years of gap." She snorted and rolled her eyes.

Gideon kissed Timothy's cheek, a sharp, quick peck. Timothy managed a weak, jagged smile. "You’ve got a way with words, Gid." "You nearly gave me a heart attack," Kan muttered, his voice thick with anxiety. Timothy poked Kan’s solid chest. "You’re such a drama king." Kan caught his hand, kissing his knuckles. "Lean on us, Tim. Trust the team. That’s why we’re here." Timothy looked at them both. "I’m fifty-two thousand, one-hundred thirteen years old—in ghost years, anyway. I’ve never leaned on a soul in my life."

"Corey Graham, in the seven years we’ve been married, I’ve never once made you do any housework. I’ve given you everything: my whole heart, my whole world has revolved around you. "And now, just because of one careless move from your best friend, Darren Blackburn, you’re making a scene about divorce? Do you even have a conscience?!" Deanna Cunningham’s eyes were red as she questioned me, as if I’d committed some unforgivable crime.

I tried to be calm. "What do you mean?" I started with a smile. "What other questions should I have?" "Just kidding." His voice was softer this time. "Twelve years. We live in the same neighborhood." "It must have been coo—" I was about to reply. What I wanted to say, I can't remember even till now. But I felt a warm hand on my chin, cupping it up for a kiss.

The silence that followed was immediate, broken only by the steady, rhythmic bubbling of the thermal jets. I looked at her profile, the steam curling around her jaw. My head ached from six months of balance sheets, hostile takeovers, and the crushing weight of Arthur Blackwell's sins. But sitting three feet from her, the numbers in my mind finally went quiet. I had spent twelve years calculating the distance between us, waiting for her to realize Dominic was an empty investment. Now that she was sitting in my space, wearing my ring, none of those years seemed to matter anymore.