Broken Dreams Boxset

by Rebecca Barber

  Storming back into the room, I could smell the rum from the tumbler in his hand. “You say that you want a break from your kids, then why are you having another one? You say you want me to want to be here, but why would I want that? Why would I want to come home and be stuck here? Why would I want to spend time with you when you don’t even want to spend time with yourself?” Joel stormed, downing the rest of his drink.

  “They’re your kids too, Joel. It takes two, you know. You should want to be here. You say you love me, yet you and I haven’t done anything or been anywhere alone together in over three years. I want to spend time on my own, but without you here to take care of the girls, I can’t. I can’t just go out and do my own thing and leave them here to fend for themselves; they’re still little girls,” I defended. I should have been prepared to defend what I wanted, I should have known he would turn it around, but I hadn’t thought it through that far.

  “Fine!” he puffed dramatically. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I will be home every Tuesday and Thursday by six. On Tuesday night I will organize dinner for the four of us and we will have family time. No other commitments, just the four of us. I will bathe the girls, get them ready for bed, and do whatever else needs doing around here. So, after dinner is done, you can do anything you want. It’s up to you. Then on Thursdays I will come home at six and you can go out. I will spend the night with Charli and Bianca and you can do whatever. Go to the movies, out for coffee, visit the girls, I really don’t care. Is that good enough for you?” He was so clinical and unemotional about his declaration I found myself wondering if he actually meant it or it would just be another thing that he was going to do until something better came up.

  But now was not the time to jinx him. Instead, I found myself nodding meekly.

  “So now you shut up? You got what you wanted and now you’re quiet.” Joel shook his head as he walked back into the kitchen.

  “Where’s your wedding ring?” I dared ask again.

  “What?” he snapped, reappearing with his glass refilled.

  “I just asked where your wedding ring is,” I repeated.

  “I took it off.” He drained his glass, put it on the counter, and sauntered into our bedroom, slamming the door as he passed. I knew in moments he would be passed out on the bed, snoring.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  GILLIAN

  I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in my own bed that night. I looked at the clock and it was a little after two. I hadn’t noticed the time passing, but I had been staring into the blank television and, as the minutes ticked by, I curled my legs beneath me and hugged myself. I was hurt. But I was hanging in there. Right then, in that moment, it was all I could do. I stretched out my tired, aching muscles as much as I could before curling back into a ball. It wasn’t so much a sleep as it was a thousand cat naps strung together with unwanted moments of pure panic.

  The night passed slowly, but when I woke the haze in my head still hadn’t cleared. Feeling like I’d been hit by a bus, I padded softly towards the bedroom, trying desperately not to wake anyone. Stealing another glance at the clock, I saw that it was a little after five. The house was still silent and dark. I knew I had at least another hour and a half before the girls began to stir.

  I opened the door, and to say I was shocked by what I saw was the understatement of the century. I’d imagined I would push open the door and sneak in to see Joel spread-eagled on the bed snoring happily. But he was nowhere to be seen. He must have snuck out before I woke.

  Instead, the room was buried beneath a mountain of boxes. I don’t know where they’d come from, but standing beside the bed, taller than me, was a cardboard tower. Startled, I walked through the wardrobe into the ensuite. I splashed cold water on my face, then rolled my neck and winced at the cracking noise. I noticed that something wasn’t quite right. Glancing around the ensuite, I noticed something was missing, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Convincing myself I was going crazy, I turned and left. I almost made it out of the wardrobe before I noticed what had vanished. Me.

  All my clothes were missing from the closet. My bottles of shampoo and moisturizer and other assorted girly products that usually lived on the countertops were all gone. My blood boiled. I found myself yanking open drawers and tearing open cupboards. Everything I owned was gone. None of my pyjamas were in the pyjama drawer. My sock drawer was empty. The bathroom cabinet had been wiped clean. Every trace of my existence in that room was gone.

  Before I knew what was happening, I found I was struggling to breathe. It was all too much. I slid down the door frame and sucked in deep breaths. I wasn’t sure where the tears had come from, but they streamed undisturbed down my face.

  “Mum!” the howl came. Someone was awake, but I couldn’t pull myself up from the floor. I was paralysed with shock and dismay. Then the call came again and the time for my own drama was gone. Just like that. One word and all my thoughts and problems were no longer a priority.

  Eventually I dragged my astonished, aching body from the floor and stalked back out of the room. I didn’t mean it but I let the door slam behind me, shaking the windows.

  “Oops,” I heard myself apologize. I found the girls were awake and already in the middle of getting dressed. I looked at Bianca and her mismatched clothes and found myself smiling. When I realized I was smiling, I stopped myself. That was the last thing I should be doing. I’d just discovered that my loving, caring husband had packed all my clothes and toiletries into boxes and kicked me out of my own bedroom. There was nothing to smile about. Yet there I was, standing in the doorway to Bianca’s room, unable to wipe the stupid, cheesy grin from my face. And in that moment, with my hands resting protectively across my pregnant belly, I made a decision that would change everything I knew. No matter what Joel said or did to me next, he’d never hurt my children. I’d protect them with everything I was until my dying breath.

  He had no hope in hell of getting rid of me and keeping them either. It was all or none. And right now, if I had my way, then he’d be the one packing his bags and walking out of our lives.

  “Mummy,” Bianca sang sweetly, looking up at me with wide, innocent, hopeful eyes. “Look, Mummy. I did my own hair. Isn’t it pretty?”

  Using all my strength, I managed to stifle a giggle. Yes, Bianca had done her own hair, and it was stunning. Somehow, she had managed to defy not only reason but gravity as well, and amongst her beautiful brown locks was every clip, ribbon, and barrette that she owned. “Yes, darling. You look beautiful,” I cooed, adjusting a clip that was falling out.

  “Can I go and show Charli?” Her adorable wide white smile beamed up at me. I couldn’t help being in love with my daughter.

  “Go on, I’m sure Charli will love it.”

  I just stood there, frozen to the spot as she pushed past me and skipped down the hallway to find her sister. When I heard giggling, I headed back towards the kitchen to begin my day. Make breakfast, prepare lunches, and drop the girls at school before grocery shopping, picking up Charli a new pair of swimmers for lessons later on that afternoon, and a quick trip to the doctor’s before I picked them up again. Even being a mum without a day job was tiring. I never had more than five minutes in a row to myself. But admittedly, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

  I gave one final fleeting thought to the boxes neatly stacked in my old bedroom. Part of me wanted to storm into Joel’s office and just yell and scream and make a scene, but the other part of me, the more stable, mature part, wanted nothing more than to pack the girls’ belongings, load it all onto a truck, and drive away, not even bothering to look back. The way I was feeling I knew I could have the house empty before Joel even noticed. I just wished I knew what his next move would be.

  Moments later I was securing the girls’ seatbelts and headed for school.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JOEL

  I stormed through the office, trying to look busy, barely glancing at the new receptionist as she greeted me way too
cheerily for this hour of the morning.

  “Someone’s snotty this morning,” she taunted under her breath before refocusing her attention on her long, fake, pink fingernails.

  “Have you got something you want to say to me?” I snapped,. I hadn’t heard the actual words she’d said, but I’d known for a couple of weeks now that she thought I was a jerk, not that I gave a toss.

  “No. I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Mr. Matthews,” she sung sweetly, pushing back from her chair and standing up.

  I had to admit, this chick had balls. She was right in my face. The further I puffed out my chest, the further she stuck out hers. I was impressed. Not only by her attitude, but also by the ample size of her bust. I was mesmerized by her tits and couldn’t stop staring straight down the front of her top. Hey, if she didn’t want me looking, she shouldn’t put the goods on display.

  “Good!” I smirked at her, licking my lips. “’Cause if you did, I’d invite you to do it to my face rather than muttering your sly, smart-ass comments under your breath.”

  I watched as goose pimples dotted her exposed skin. They proved she wasn’t as unaffected as she was pretending to be. “No, Joel, I have nothing to say.” She backed up. As she stepped backwards, I moved towards her, quickly closing the gap between us.

  “I’ve got work to do. I should get back to it,” Becky said, slipping back into her chair and staring at the blank computer screen. I felt completely confident and more than a little aroused. I loved the power. She was under my spell. Like my bitch wife had once been. But now she was too fat, too pregnant, and too fucking lazy to be of any use.

  With the overpowering stench of Becky’s cheap perfume, my cock twitched. I couldn’t stop myself. She was begging for it and I wasn’t about to let her wishes go ungranted. I bent her over, pushing some of the wild strands of her blonde hair from her face and whispered suggestively into her ear. “I know you want me. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “You’re…you’re married,” Becky stuttered, her eyes darting back and forth, searching for an escape.

  “So what?” I whispered again, nibbling her ear. As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help myself. I reached over Becky’s shoulder and grabbed a handful of tit.

  Shocked, Becky gasped. Frozen to the spot

  Sook looked like she was going to cry. Next thing I knew Becky was scooping up her bag and running out the door pulling her phone from her pocket as she pushed through the double glass doors and out on to the street.

  Seemed like the fun was over for the day, so I ducked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of juice. I had no ideas whose it was, but helped myself. Unable to wipe the smile from my face—so far, today had been a great day. I’d started with a detox. Getting rid of all Gillian’s shit, before putting that tart sitting out in front filing her nails in her place. Finishing my juice, I dropped the dirty cup in the sink. Someone else would take care of it. They always did.

  Stalking back into my office, I slipped into my leather recliner and put my feet up on my desk. Even I couldn’t believe how awesome today had been. So far today I’d “cleansed” my room and my life as much as possible of my wife, and still managed to scratch an itch with the bosomy idiot sitting at the reception desk. I was freaking invincible. The phone lines were quiet, which was unusual, but not eerily so. It was still early and most solicitors I knew wouldn’t have even finished their morning coffee and gossip sessions.

  I sat there completely relaxed playing games on my phone. Glancing around my office, I saw a lifetime of achievements. The top of the filing cabinets was covered in trophies from years of hard work, dedication, and manipulation. Photos lined the walls from award ceremonies and half-famous clients. The only picture of my so-called family, was one of my girls tucked away on the back of the door.

  The phone rang and I was jolted out of my daydream. I was swearing and cursing down the phone, my boss appeared in the doorway. After a few more moments of bitter words and half-hearted cajoling trying to get the deal done, I slammed down the phone. “Arsehole,” I swore, more than a little pissed off.

  “Something up?”

  “Yeah, the bitch from 46 McKinley Way just withdrew her property,” I snapped a little too forcefully for Samantha’s liking.

  We’d never gotten along. Not since the day she was promoted from below me to my boss, a promotion I was convinced she got on her knees. Apparently, she didn’t think the way I spoke to and about women was appropriate. I think she was just a prude. Some days I swear she wanted to slap me right across my face.

  “You mean the emotionally fragile widowed mum with three kids, one of which has Down syndrome and whose husband just died in the Middle East?” Samantha asked, attempting to remind me that the woman I was so angry with wasn’t doing this just to piss me off.

  Samantha stood in my door watching me. She was hovering like an overanxious babysitter. I don’t know why she couldn’t just fuck off and do her own thing. She didn’t even sell these days, too busy sticking her nose into everyone elses business, especially mine. To be honest, it was pissing me off. Why the fuck couldn’t she just leave me to do my thing and stop being such a hard arse all the time.

  “Yeah, that stupid bitch. She’s got no idea how much time, effort and marketing I spent trying to sell that place. And I was so close…” I muttered.

  “Just give her some time to get everything together. I’m sure she’ll come back,” Samantha bullshitted. Although she said all the right things out loud, we both knew she was full of shit. There was no way she was coming back. Not to me anyway and good riddance to her. I didn’t want to deal with her drama anyway.

  “Whatever,” I grumbled before waving my hand dismissively at Samantha, hoping she could take a hint. With a shake of her head, she turned and walked away leaving me to get on with my day.

  I watched on with amusement when she stumbled in her stilettos. The cynical part of me wanted to annoy her to such an extent that she couldn’t help but spin so fast that her heels wouldn’t keep up and she fell on her fat arse. In my mind, that was where she deserved to be. But if anyone asked, no, I wasn’t at all bitter that she had been promoted ahead of me.

  For a few moments I sat there, quietly watching, not sure how I was supposed to feel. My head was so full of thoughts, I could barely keep up then all of a sudden, the room was too small. Too closed in. There was no air. No windows. I needed to get the hell out of here. Jumping up from my seat, I flew out of the office, barely pausing to glance back.

  Outside in the fresh air, I slumped over, hands on my knees, sucking in long deep breaths. Something wasn’t right but I couldn’t put my finger on. Then it hit me like a tonne of bricks. This time I’d gone too far. And as fear took hold, I heard whimpering.

  Becky was sitting on the garden edge behind me, her face streaked with mascara lines, her eyes wide and red. I could hear the short, sharp, shallow breaths as she gasped between sobs.

  I couldn’t stop stealing glances in her direction. I wondered if it was my fault she was out here, sitting alone in the icy wind, crying. Or did she have some other issues, bigger problems? Surely it wasn’t my fault. She wasn’t that pathetically fragile, was she? But a niggling in the back of my mind made me go and confront her.

  Becky looked up at me with pure terror, which didn’t make me feel great. Gone was the pain and anguish, now only all-consuming and paralysing fear was left. And it wasn’t just fear, it was unadulterated panic. I wasn’t that fucking scary. Geez.

  “Please…please just leave me alone,” she whimpered desperately.

  I scrunched up my face in disgust. I could see that she was clearly upset, but my biggest concern right now was for my own career. Whether Becky knew it or not, she could destroy everything I’ve worked for. With one word, all the late nights, weekends, all the hours spent on the phone, all the lies I’d told, the very thing that I’d built my whole life around could be gone in a flash.

  “Becky.” I smiled softly at her. I wasn’
t born yesterday. I’d been around long enough to know how to play the game. Women weren’t as complicated as they’d like to think they are. And after years of honing my skills, I knew that dealing with a crying chick would be no harder than closing a deal. A young, dumb girl just had to be played the right way. I lowered myself slowly onto the ledge beside her. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine,” she stated matter-of-factly. The instant the words passed her lips, Becky began wiping at her eyes. She squared her shoulders and looked up at me defiantly.

  Not giving a toss about the consequences, I reached out and put my hand on Becky’s thigh.

  Jumping up from the ledge, she backed away from me, daggers in her eyes. “Don’t you ever touch me again!” she snarled.

  “Becky,” I began, standing up and inching towards her. Instinctively Becky found herself backing up until she crashed into the brick building behind her, knocking the corner of her elbow on the rough surface. It wasn’t a deep gash, and there was no blood, it still would’ve stung.

  “Fuck off, Joel!”

  “Excuse me?” I replied, surprised that she had the audacity to speak to me like that. Didn’t she know who I was?

  “I said ‘Fuck off, Joel.’ You ever, ever come near me again and I guarantee a few tears will be the least of your concerns. Not only will you be squirming about on the ground in so much pain you will wish you had been desexed years ago, but by the time you’re able to drag your sorry arse up off the ground, you’ll only be standing up to greet the police.”

  “Listen here, you stupid little tart. I don’t know who you think you are or who you think you’re threatening, but I won’t stand for your drama queen bullshit. You might think you’re all that, but you are nothing. Completely replaceable. We can always just get some other big boobed, blonde Barbie to do your job. God knows it’s not fucking hard. So, just keep your cock-sucking mouth shut,” I snapped, tiny bits of spittle covering Becky’s face.