Chapter Thirty-Six.

                                    

                                          
Carefully peeling the top of the envelope open, I pulled out a folded piece of paper; in fact, there was three pieces of paper inside, all folded together in a bundle. I unfolded them and saw writing on it in a letter formation. 
                          
“Dear Sammy.”
                          
I began to read the letter, confused as the handwriting was completely unfamiliar. 
                          
*
                          
Dear Sammy. 
                          
I truly am sorry for having to do this but I think you have the right, and mostly deserve, to know the truth. There have been plenty of occasions where I have pleaded with George to tell you himself but as he obviously hasn’t got the guts to tell you the truth which you deserve, I am left with no other choice but to tell you this myself via this letter. Before you read on, I do want you to know that I truly am sorry for what I am about to tell you. 
                          
It started about two years ago on the X Factor tour when I first met Union J. At the time I was a huge fan and had developed a massive celebrity crush on George. I knew he was in a relationship with you and had been for quite a while, but I respected that, and you. George was lovely to me when I met him and offered to have photographs taken with me which I really appreciated. Since the first X Factor tour concert that I went to, I went to different Union J gigs around the country and met them on plenty of occasions. In the end, I turned out to be a close fan of all the boys – but especially close to George. 
                          
One night last summer when you were in America recording your album, I went to a Union J gig in London and met the boys again, only this time they invited me back to George, Josh and JJ’s apartment for a sort of after-party. To cut the story short, we all had a lot to drink and stuff happened. You have to trust me on this – George did love you then and would not have done any of the stuff that he did if he was sober. Ever since that night, I regretted it as I knew how much George meant to you and I begged George to tell you. Every time I asked him if he had told you, he said yes, although I knew he didn’t. 
                          
That wasn’t the only time this happened though. The night before your nineteenth birthday, you must have gone back to York or something as George came over to mine and we slept together for the second time – this time completely sober. After that, we were finding that it was a regular thing and we were becoming closer and closer. 
                          
The truth is that George doesn’t love you – he’s admitted that to me on a numerous of occasions and said that the only reason that he can’t break it off with you is because you will blame it on you losing the baby, which yes, he still blames you for. The truth is that he loves me and has for nearly two years. The only reason he’s getting married to you is so that he can hide his feelings for me and hope that they will somehow go away. Everyone seems to love you two as a couple now – they wouldn’t appreciate him leaving you for some nobody. 
                          
George didn’t want you to find out as he knew you’d leave him and call off the wedding; however, I think you should leave him as you do not deserve this. You can ask him about this, but he will only deny it or make some story up about how I’m just a crazed fan or how it wasn’t his fault. In a way though, he is right – it isn’t his fault. You can’t help who you fall in love with, right? I honestly hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me because I never wanted any of this, but the other week when I met you at the concert; I knew I had to tell you the truth as it is what you deserve. 
                          
Yours faithfully, 
                          
Rio. 
                          
*
                          
Sat on the bed, I stared at the pieces of paper emotionlessly. I didn’t know what to think of any of it. In a way, it didn’t make sense, but in another way, it did. After a few moments of staring at the paper, I got up off the bed. As I stood in the middle of the hotel room, a sudden rage of anger came over me and I stormed over to the dressing table, grabbing my car keys off and my jacket. Rushing out of the hotel room, I slammed the door behind me and began to make my way down the corridor in my high heels. All sorts were running through my mind as I raged down the stairs and through the lobby towards the car park. Climbing into the car and slamming the door behind me, I started up the engine. As I reversed the car out of the parking space, tears fell from my eyes and onto the letter that was lying on my lap. 
                          
For the whole drive back from the spa and hotel to mine and George’s apartment, I tried to sort my thoughts out so I was in some sort of mind when I arrived back home to confront him. 
                          
As I sat outside the apartment block, I looked out of the window and up at mine and George’s bedroom window, where the light was on. Slowly, I turned the car’s engine off and unclipped my seat belt. I continued to sit and look up at the apartment, contemplating what I was going to do. Truth was I had no idea what to do. 
                          
After a few moments, I got out of the car and made my way towards the apartment block’s entrance. Mascara and eyeliner was running down my cheek from the tears that were falling from my eyes but I didn’t care – all I wanted was to hear the truth from George. As I walked up the stairs, the sound of my heels clomping on the steps echoed through the staircase. I got to the front door of our apartment and went to open it, only to find that it was locked. I rummaged through my jacket pocket to find the key. 
                          
Walking into the apartment, I realised it was empty. George had probably gone out – with her? I shook the thought out of my head and headed towards the bedroom. As I walked into the bedroom, I grabbed hold of my suitcase from behind the door and flung it onto the bed. Opening the wardrobe door, I caught sight of my wedding dress that was hanging up at the back. Pushing everything else to the side, I grabbed hold of the dress and chucked it onto the floor beside the bathroom door. Throwing all my clothes into the suitcase, I walked into the lounge and picked Lily up as she ran around my feet. 
                          
“Come on, Lily,” I sobbed as I placed her in her travel cage and put it on top of my suitcase in the hallway. 
                          
Looking back into the apartment, I pulled the letter from out of my jacket’s pocket and put it on the table beside the door with my key to the apartment on top of it. This was it.