by Nicky Wells
‘I can tell,’ Casey muttered.
‘Spare me the sarcasm,’ Alex ranted. ‘After everything we’ve tried, we’re still no further than we were on our wedding day.’
‘So was that what yesterday was about? Making sex happen, nothing more?’ Casey had a sinking feeling in her stomach. ‘I thought it meant something to you.’
‘It did,’ Alex quickly assured her. ‘But I also hoped that it would… well, fix us.’
‘Apparently it didn’t, then.’
‘No.’
Alex crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked seriously disgruntled. Casey’s world threatened to collapse around her. After everything they had endured, their relationship seemed on the brink of disaster—as in, proper, serious, irretrievable disaster. And this on the heels of one of the most romantic and charmed days they had shared as a married couple. She shook her head, unable to believe how quickly life could change.
‘Alex,’ she whispered tentatively. ‘Alex, we said it wouldn’t matter. We said we’d overcome this. You said we’d learn to live without proper sex and work around it. You said it last night.’
‘Well, I lied,’ Alex snapped. ‘And I’m tired of putting on a brave face.’
Casey sucked in a breath, trying to quell her panic. Don’t ask him if he still loves you, a voice piped up urgently in her head. Don’t ask the question if you’re not prepared for the answer. Don’t!
‘Don’t you love me anymore?’ The question slipped out even while Casey told herself not to ask it.
Alex grunted. ‘Love? Ha.’ He climbed out of bed and began pulling on his clothes. ‘I think we should go back to London.’
‘But—but it’s only Sunday morning. We have the whole day. You said—you said you wouldn’t take the food home!’ Casey could hear her voice rising with every panicky word, but she couldn’t stop it. They couldn’t end the weekend like this, they simply couldn’t.
‘Who gives a damn about the food?’ The venom in Alex’s utterance hit Casey like a physical blow. What had suddenly got into him? This was wildly out of character. What had sent him over the edge? Surely it wasn’t the fact that they had shared their bodies and then fallen asleep without, perhaps, a climactic conclusion? At least they had actually joined each other for only the second truly pleasurable time since their wedding day.
‘Alex,’ Casey said feebly. ‘Calm down. Let’s have breakfast and—’
‘Shut up and get up,’ Alex barked. ‘We’re leaving.’ Tears sprang into Casey’s eyes. She bit her lip. She mustn’t cry. She mustn’t.
‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ she pleaded. ‘You’re being entirely unreasonable, and I don’t think we should end the weekend like this.’
‘I don’t care what you think,’ Alex said carelessly. ‘Suit yourself. I’m out of here.’
Casey sat frozen in bed while Alex stormed down the stairs. She watched helplessly as he fumbled to unlock the front door and rushed out without a backward glance. Her mind was screaming. Don’t go. Don’t leave like this. Don’t be bloody ridiculous. Grow up. Come back. Let’s talk this through. Don’t you dare walk out on me!
But her voice remained stubbornly silent. The door slammed hard, and the sound seemed to reverberate in the cottage long after Alex had left.
Casey didn’t know what to do. She wanted to run after him; but then again, she didn’t. He needed to come back to her. On the other hand, she couldn’t let their relationship die because she was too proud to do the chasing. Or the apologising for that matter—although, she wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened and who needed to apologise to whom.
Minutes ticked by slowly while Casey remained rooted to the spot by indecision and confusion. What time was it, anyway? How long since Alex had left? Surely he’d come back any second now? He wouldn’t—couldn’t—simply leave.
It was the thought of practicalities that finally pulled Casey out of her apathy. Slowly, and with some difficulty, she rose from the bed and got dressed. Her body felt like it was submerged in treacle. It was hard to move each limb, and she was sticky and sweaty all over. A shower would be good, but now was not the time.
Hesitantly, she followed in Alex’s footsteps and made her way downstairs and out of the cottage. Outside, a ferocious breeze was blowing in off the sea, and it was probably that rather than Alex’s anger that had slammed the door so hard. At least that was what Casey decided she would like to think. She had never known Alex to be violent, angry or not.
The uneven footpath to the car park had tripled in length. Casey struggled against the breeze and the hill. It was like she was trapped in one of those nightmares where you run really fast but don’t move an inch. The harder she tried, the slower she seemed to advance, and her mind howled in anguish. But eventually, she reached the car park. Their car was still there, completely oblivious to her turmoil, and parked in the same spot as Friday night. Casey was surprised and confused in equal measures. If the car was still there, where was Alex?
Perhaps he had gone for a walk to get rid of his anger and frustration. Perhaps he was even now stepping back into the cottage, contrite and full of apologies, only to find her gone. Casey turned and raced back along the path, tripping over her flip flops—of course she hadn’t put proper shoes on when she ventured out—and holding her hair back with both hands so that the wind wouldn’t blow it in her face.
‘Alex?’ she yelled as she crashed back into the cottage. ‘Are you back? I’m so sorry for what I said.’
Silence. Nobody there.
Casey sighed. So he was still out walking. Perhaps he had gone back to the church, or even all the way back to Tregarren. She could try to find him. Or she could wait for him right where she was. It would be awful if they missed each other and prolonged the misunderstanding. No, she would definitely stay put. It was only ten o’clock. They could still salvage the day.
But first things first: she needed a shower. She wanted to be delicious and gorgeous when Alex returned. She would be magnanimous, gracious, and happy, and the whole thing would be forgotten. And she wanted to look her best.
Breakfast next. She supposed she should eat something. She wasn’t great with confrontation or reconciliation on an empty stomach, and her blood sugar was in the pits. So: toast and jam and coffee. And some fruit. Fruit was good. Full of vitamins. Healthy and natural. Casey indulged in strawberries and kiwi fruit as though their goodness would rub off on her inner state of mind. All she achieved, however, was a sore mouth from all the fruit acid.
Twelve o’clock. Noon. Lunch time. Still no sign of Alex. Where was he? Casey was starting to get worried. This wasn’t like him. Well, the whole damn situation wasn’t like him.
The sky was riven with storm clouds, and the wind had picked up even more. If Alex was walking along the cliff tops, he might be putting himself in danger. What if he had been caught by a gust of wind, lost his footing, and fallen? What if he was even now lying on a rocky beach, unable to move and at risk of being trapped by the incoming tide?
Was the tide coming in? Or was it going out? Casey had no clue, but you were always hearing about walkers falling off cliffs and being threatened by the tide. Should she call the coast guard? But no, she couldn’t. She wasn’t even sure whether he had gone that way.
Increasingly frantic, Casey paced the cottage and stared out the window. It was getting darker as the storm gathered pace, and already a drizzly rain had set in. Surely, surely, Alex would walk in the door any moment now: wet and tired, but no longer angry?
Two o’clock. The storm was in full swing, and Casey was still on her own. She had gone to the brink of despair and back and was now in the throes of a red-hot anger. How dare he do this to her? In fact, she almost didn’t care what had happened to him. Steaming with fury, she began packing up the leftover food and their belongings. In fact, she wanted to hurl Alex’s clothes down the nearest ravine. Of course she did no such thing, although she muttered angrily under her breath while she was packing.
There. Done.
It was nearing three o’clock. Casey had no idea when they needed to vacate the cottage, but normally you had to be out by noon or one o’clock at the latest. She shrugged. If they got lumbered with a late-staying fine, so be it. But how much longer should she wait before she called it a day, loaded up the car, and left?
Without warning, anger tipped back into fear and worry, and Casey was overcome by the need to speak to someone. She had considered ringing Alex’s mobile a million times since this morning, but her pride wouldn’t let her. So she tried Sasha instead. Alas, it went through to voicemail. Ditto for Liza. Who next? Her mum and dad? Nah, this wasn’t a mum-and-dad kind of situation. She was twenty-eight, not eight.
As she scrolled through her contacts list, her finger got stuck on James. James.
She hit ‘dial’ before she could think about it twice. Obviously James wouldn’t be able to do anything. He didn’t even know them that well. But he was a great listener, and no doubt he would say something soothing.
‘Casey?’ James’s voice crackled slightly. Reception already wasn’t great down in Cornwall, and the storm didn’t make it any better.
‘James!’ Casey nearly wept with relief. ‘James, I’m so glad to hear your voice. Listen, I know it’s Sunday and this may be a crap time, but I simply have to talk to someone.’
‘What’s happened? I can hear you’re upset. Calm down.’ James seemed to be eating something, and Casey felt a pang. He had company. She was intruding.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘You’re probably busy. I shouldn’t have rung.’
‘Don’t be silly. If it were a bad time, I wouldn’t have answered the phone. Now spill. Tell Uncle James.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
So Casey told the whole story of the weekend—of how Alex had surprised her with a luxury mini-break, of the wedding re-enactment, their romantic day, their bath, their frantic-to-tantric sexual encounter—and of Alex’s incensed departure.
‘He’s cracked.’ James’s verdict was prompt and unequivocal. ‘He’s a man, Casey. He was bound to crack sometime.’
‘You’re defending him?’ Casey was incredulous. ‘He’s cracked, and that’s okay because he’s a man?’
‘Of course not. I’m not defending him at all. I’m explaining him to you. In fact, he explained it himself when he said that sometimes he needs a complete release. That’s what I meant when I said he’s a man.’ James paused. ‘Sometimes, he simply does need to fulfil his manly job description. It’s damaging to his ego if he doesn’t. He’s probably angrier with himself than with you. I suspect he feels like a failure.’
‘But I don’t see it like that!’ Casey wailed. ‘Doesn’t he trust me anymore?’
‘It’s not about trust. It’s about the fact that he feels he can’t be manly with you.’
‘But we had such a great time!’
‘I’m afraid when the chips are down, the male psyche is all about results, not about the process.’
‘That sucks.’
James chuckled. ‘Oh yeah. But we are what we are. Hormones do funny things to all of us, even to the male of the species. And I’d hazard a guess that both your hormones are all over the place right now.’
‘But how does this help me?’
‘It doesn’t, I’m afraid, other than maybe putting you in a better mindset for when you two next meet.’
‘But James!’ Casey struggled to stay coherent even while she felt she was falling down a deep, dark hole. ‘What am I supposed to do now?’
‘Sweetie, I think you’re going to have to get in the car and drive yourself home. We’ll have to figure out the rest when you’re back in London.’
‘But—but what if he’s still out there somewhere? I can’t just leave!’
James sighed. ‘I doubt he’s still out there. My money is on him getting himself back to London.’
Casey snorted. ‘If you knew the setup, you’d not be so sure. We didn’t even see a tractor since we got here, let alone a bus or a taxi.’
‘In that case, you’ll have to ring him to find out.’
‘I can’t do that.’ Casey surprised herself with her vehemence.
‘No, I guess you can’t.’ James had his therapy hat on, she could tell. There was no surprise, no remonstration, simply acknowledgement of her state of mind. ‘Which means your options are to stay put, or to leave and risk leaving him behind. If you’re asking me, as a friend, I’d say leave.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. He’s left you dangling for hours with no word as to where he is. It’s a fair assumption that he’s gone. That would be my line, and I’d be sticking to it. If I were you. And,’ he coughed, ‘may I add that I’m breaking every rule in the professional book by giving you that advice, but there it is. Get outta there and come home, sweets.’
‘Okay.’ Casey doubtfully looked at the windows, which were obscured by a torrent of rain. The thought of venturing out there with their luggage and driving off by herself made her queasy. ‘Great—not. But I suppose if I leave now, I’ll at least be home before bedtime.’
‘There’s my girl. You drive safely, okay? And text me when you get back. I’ll come round with emergency supplies if you need me to.’
Casey laughed in spite of herself. ‘It was a good day when I met you both.’
‘Sure was. Now get on the road and be safe.’ James clicked off, and Casey felt somewhat buoyed by his staunch support. There was no doubt that James was in her camp, whether that was unprofessional or not. Irrationally, she liked it that way. It was nice to have an ally.
With a deep sigh, she picked up the first two bags and began trudging up to the car park. She had donned her rain coat and wellies, but they weren’t up to the task of keeping her dry, and she got soaked through to the skin. That was fine. It suited her mood. What was a bit of water when her relationship was down the drain?
One more trip back and forth, and she was done. She locked up the cottage and dropped the keys in the letterbox, remembering too late that an agent had couriered them to Alex and therefore presumably would be expecting them to be returned in the same manner. She snorted. Tough luck. Alex could sort that out if it turned out to be a problem. Served him right for buggering off without stopping to think.
Anxiously, she installed herself in the driver’s seat and adjusted mirrors and seat height. She didn’t mind driving, but she didn’t particularly enjoy it either, and it would be a long, lonely, and miserable journey back. She hunted ‘round for a radio station, unwilling to listen to any of her and Alex’s ordinary playlists, and she settled for the first station that played a soft rock ballad. Poison would do perfectly, and ‘every rose’ did indeed ‘have its thorn’, Casey thought.
Just before she put the car in reverse to set off, her phone beeped with an incoming text. At last! Her heart skipped a few beats while she opened the message. But it wasn’t from Alex. It was from Liza. Casey read it over three times before she could make sense of it.
Hey babes, had mssge frm Myles that v. soggy Alex turned up at his place blind drunk. What happened on ur mini-break? Hope UR okay, thought u’d want 2 know. Love&hugs, ring me. Liza xxx
Alex was back in London? So Alex was back in London! And he had gone straight to Myles’s house. He hadn’t even gone back to their own home. Well, that was saying a lot, wasn’t it? And how had he got to Myles’s place?
Thoughts were tumbling over each other in Casey’s head like dominoes, but she couldn’t put them in any kind of order. In the end, she crunched the car into gear, venting her anger through the gearbox and not giving a damn what she was doing to the transmission. She reversed onto the road and left rubber on the tarmac as she set off in the direction of home. That felt good, the leaving-rubber bit. Casey grinned at herself despite the circumstances, but then her mood plummeted again.
Stupid her for waiting all this time for her stupid, sulking husband.
Shift up, crunch gears.
Nice feeling.
If only she’d left first thing this morning, she could’ve been safe and sound in her own living room by now.
Shift down, swerve round a bend, shift up, crunch again. Ah, the exquisite satisfaction of hearing the gears grind against each other.
And Alex, how dare he?
Slam on breaks and shift down at the next crossroads. What was that sheep doing there in the road? Move it, dammit. Toot horn. Crunch gears, set off again. Breathe.
She’d definitely let Alex have a piece of her mind or three when she got to face him. He was so not getting away with this kind of juvenile behaviour.
Shift, crunch, shift, crunch. Grin and repeat.
An hour and a half later, Casey finally hit the motorway and abandoned her angry gear-crunching. By then, she was feeling guilty about the damage she might have inflicted on the car, and she drove as gently as she could. The traffic flowed smoothly, and Casey focused her thoughts on what she would do once she reached London. Where should she go? Home? No. Maybe she should rock up to Myles’s place and confront her errant husband? Or should she go somewhere else entirely?
She couldn’t make a decision, so she let her subconscious wander while she concentrated on getting herself back to London in one piece. One step, one mile at a time.
Chapter Fifteen:
Legal Challenges
~Alex~
‘How on earth did you get here?’ Myles finally asked after Alex had had his third—or was it his fourth?—pint of beer.
Alex shrugged and reclined lazily on Myles’s leather sofa. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Well, no.’ Myles shrugged too. ‘But it’s all a bit of a mystery, isn’t it? One minute, you’re down in Cornwall with the missus, and next minute, you’re at my front door, catatonic with rage, wet, and drunk. You’ve sat here for two hours drinking beer, not saying a word, and refusing to eat. I’m a bit worried, mate.’
‘Sssso’—Alex was aware that he was slurring his words. ‘Sssso, what you’re asking is not how I got here, but what happened down there?’