by Sofia Grey
“You said”—Rob leaned closer, his alcohol-laden breath in my face—”he was going out with Kate.” In my peripheral vision, I saw the broken glass approaching. It was inches from my face. Dear God, he could scar me for life with that.
He could kill me.
“Well?” Rob wanted me to say something.
“What?”
“Going out with Kate—yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Try again.”
Fuck. What should I say? I was so afraid, I shook. My teeth rattled. I plucked at his hand with trembling fingers. “Please let me go. Please don’t hurt me. I love you, Rob.”
“I’m waiting.”
I sucked in a breath. “He went out with Kate a couple of times. Then they broke up. That’s the truth.”
“Don’t ever lie to me, dumpling. I can tell.” Rob slid his thumb over my temple, and then slowly trailed it down my cheek.
I whimpered. “I won’t. I don’t. I promise.”
Time seemed to stop. My breaths made a rattling noise as they wheezed in and out, and my lungs tightened. Black spots danced before my eyes, but Rob didn’t move, and the glass stayed inches from my cheek.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Please, don’t do this,” he mimicked. “Is that all you can say?”
My tears ran unchecked, and Cade’s voice whispered in my head. Are you scared of what he’ll do to you? Yes. I was scared. Petrified. Every time Rob grabbed me or shoved me out of his way, the past few weeks, he left a mark. A myriad of tiny bruises he apologized for. I bruised so easily, he said. I shouldn’t be so clumsy, he said.
Why did I put up with it? Was I so desperate to be part of a couple I let him use me as his punching bag?
No more.
“Well, dumpling? I’m waiting.”
I swallowed and spoke through the rattling of my teeth. “Waiting for what?”
“The truth. That you’ve been fucking about with Cade Brisley. I know he’s been sniffing around you, and you’ve been encouraging him.”
“No. I haven’t.”
“So how do I stop him? Hmm? Tell me that.”
There had to be something wrong with Rob. The bright moods and the dark days. And this was a fucking dark one. Maybe he was bipolar? “You don’t need to stop him, because there’s nothing to stop.”
“Really?” He brought the remains of the glass to my face. Pinpricks of pain flashed through my cheek. I didn’t dare move.
“You see, Jen, I can stop him, or I can stop you. Which will it be?”
He’d hurt Cade once already. Broken his nose. I wouldn’t let him do that again. Cade had done nothing except be nice to me. “You don’t have to do either, Rob.” I stammered the words out. “Let me clean up now, and we’ll go to bed. Please.”
Rob moved his arm. I still didn’t move. Smash. I flinched. He’d tossed the glass to the floor. Taking the bottle, he dropped it near my feet in another crashing mess.
“Clean this up. Every inch. You know I hate a dirty kitchen. And bring me a drink.” Holding me by the hair, he shoved me to my knees. I yelped, as the shards of glass dug into my bare skin. He stepped back, and I dared to hope it was over, a second before he kicked my thigh and I sprawled on the floor.
“A drink, Jenny.” He snapped, as he headed for the living room. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
It was a miracle I didn’t land face first on the mess. Shards of glass dug into to my arms and legs, sticky with wine, the smell of alcohol making me gag. I took a shuddering breath, and another.
This was the end. I couldn’t go on after this. What would he do next?
A drink, he said. He wanted a drink, otherwise he might come back. Adrenaline flooded my veins and lent me speed. I snatched up a clean glass and a bottle of the dark ale he favored, and poured half of it for him. I opened the fridge and took out the vodka. Not much left, but it was enough. I dumped it all into the glass, then added more beer.
I’d have one shot at this. I had to make it work.
Chapter 19
19.1 Jenny
Rob lurched back into the kitchen, to watch me work. I swept and mopped the floor, drawing out the job as long as I dared. He kept showing me bits he thought I missed. At one point, he sloshed beer onto a finished section of floor, and laughed when I had to re-clean it. I acted on auto-pilot. No arguments. No pleading.
I couldn’t stop crying. The tears fell down my cheeks, as though I’d turned on a tap and couldn’t figure out how to switch it off. Never again became my mantra.
Never again, as I threw the broken glass into the trash can.
Never again, as I mopped the floor.
Never again, as I picked a large piece of glass out of my knee and watched the blood dribble down my leg. It didn’t hurt. Maybe I was in shock.
Rob yawned and muttered about watching TV while he waited for me. I leaned over the mop and counted to twenty in my head. A movie trailer blared from the living room. Was he asleep? Please let him be sleeping.
I was beyond scared. Scared was in a whole other universe, full of fluffy bunnies and cute boyfriends who made you feel loved. What happened to the Rob who got me? My soulmate? Did I make him morph into this? I’d have to think about that later. Self-preservation was paramount right now.
I tiptoed down the hallway, thanking any deity present for our wall-to-wall carpeting. Peeking around the open door, I saw Rob sprawled on the sofa, eyes closed. A gentle snore emerged from his open mouth.
This was it.
I didn’t have time to get any of my stuff. My coats were upstairs. I’d have to go in the tattered remains of my party dress.
I couldn’t find my handbag. Did I bring it home? It might still be in the car. Back in the kitchen, I looked for the car keys. I’d put them on the counter when we got home.
They weren’t there now.
Fuck. I searched all around. Looked on the shelf nearby—the hooks where Rob hung other keys—but the alarm fob wasn’t there. Did he hide it? Did he mean to make me stay here?
Every minute I delayed, there was a greater chance he’d wake and come find me. What would he do to stop me, if he thought I was running away? For a second, I was paralyzed with fear. What would he do when he caught up with me?
I had no intention of hanging around to see.
I snuck out the kitchen door, closed it quietly behind me, and tiptoed across the grass to the front. I clung to the edges, to the places the security lights didn’t reach, all the while listening for noise from our house. I could only hear the TV.
Each step felt like a mile, but I reached the road that meandered through the estate. That was when I tried to run, only to realize I still wore my pretty, high-heeled party shoes. I slipped them from my feet and went barefoot. It would be quicker, though the paths were slippery from the rain.
It took me ten minutes to reach the main road. I stopped. Where the fuck did I go now?
I had no coat to protect me from the rain.
No money.
No phone.
Just the clothes I wore.
I wanted to curl in a ball and howl at the injustice, but I needed to get the fuck away from Hale Barns. I’d hitch a ride if it came to it.
It had to be close to midnight. The road was deserted, and the rain came down in sheets. My dress stuck to me in a sodden clump, but I wasn’t going back. As I rounded the bend, I saw the corner shop up ahead—closed—and a miraculous sight I’d never noticed before. A phone box.
I stumbled through the remaining yards and stepped into the dry space. If I saw a car coming, I’d have to duck outside and hide, in case it was Rob. Meanwhile, who did I call?
Who could I ask for help?
My parents. I put a call to the operator and asked to make a collect call. Gave her my parents’ home number. It dropped straight to their answering machine. They’d be in bed. I tried Dad’s cellphone, but he didn’t pick up.
Panic lodged in my chest. There was
nobody else. Or was there? I gave the operator Cade’s number, from memory, crossing my fingers that I got it right.
It rang once. Twice. It would go to voicemail. When Cade’s sleepy voice answered, I cried afresh.
The operator asked if he’d take the call from me, but for a few seconds I couldn’t speak.
“Jen?” Cade sounded confused. No wonder. I probably dragged him out of bed.
I rubbed at the cascade of tears and wiped my nose on the back of my hand. “I need your help.”
* * * *
I hid in the bushes outside the corner shop, in case Rob came after me. Fifteen minutes later, I heard the roar of a motorcycle engine, and there he was. Cade. My guardian angel in black leather.
He pulled off his helmet and shouted my name. The moment I emerged from the shrubbery, he scrambled from the bike and ran to me.
Even in the dim orange glow from the streetlights, I couldn’t miss his appalled expression when he saw me. He flicked his gaze up and down and shook his head. “Christ,” he whispered. “I’m going to fucking kill him for this.”
“No. Just get me away from here. Please.”
He gave me a spare helmet, insisted I wore his leather jacket, and put his socks on my bare, bleeding feet. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying.
“What are you apologizing for?”
“For letting him walk away with you in the first place.”
I had no words. I hitched up my dress and climbed onto the back of his bike, wrapped my arms around his waist, and clung to him like the shell on a turtle.
Nothing would be the same again. By running away, I allowed a whole new shit-storm to rain upon my life, but for now—right this minute—I was safe.
19.2 Kate
It was mild for early November, so I tackled my list of jobs for the garden. Like the house, the grounds were neglected, but I slowly brought back some control. It was grubby and thirsty work, and I debated stopping for a cold drink. When the landline rang, it gave me the excuse I needed.
I kicked off my muddy boots in the porch and walked into the kitchen. Sophie, most likely. She’d rung the night before, to talk about her upcoming wedding. She and Isaac were getting married in a couple weeks, at the end of November, so that they could head Down Under for their honeymoon. Isaac wanted to take her on a tour of his native New Zealand during the Christmas holiday period, their summer. I’d miss her.
I grabbed the handset before it clicked over to voicemail. “Hello.”
There was a pause, and then a very familiar voice said, “Kate?”
It was three months since I last spoke to Jordan, but his voice still did funny things to me. I reached for a kitchen stool and dropped onto the seat. One word and he made my knees tremble.
“Kate, is that you?” he asked.
“Jordan.” I couldn’t think what to say. He was the last person on a short list that I’d expect to ring.
“Hey.” His sexy drawl washed over me, and for a moment it was as though he stood next to me. “I told Sophie I wanted to talk to you about her wedding, and she gave me your number. I hope it’s okay.”
Was it? I was shocked to realize I didn’t mind him calling. “Yes, it’s fine.” I tried to collect my thoughts. They were intent on making whooping noises, like a team of cheerleaders.
He sounded as confident as ever, and I marveled at his ability to blank out his emotions. From the way he talked, you’d never think the last time we spoke was when I threw my wedding ring at him.
I tried to concentrate. “Sorry, Jordan. I was a little distracted. Say that again?”
He chuckled, and I smiled. From hundreds of miles away, he still had the power to charm me. “I asked if you knew Sophie invited me,” he said.
“Yes.” I chewed on my lip. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this, but Sophie adored Jordan.
“I guess I wanted to make sure you were okay with it.” His voice softened. It sounded as though he still cared about me. He always cared, in his often high-handed way. The short time we were together, before we married, was the most wanted or loved I’d ever felt.
He’d asked a question.
Did I mind him being there? “I don’t have a problem with it. It’s Sophie’s wedding, and she can invite who she likes.” I could have bitten the words back when I heard his sharp breath. It came out sounding bitchy, and that wasn’t me.
“You are going aren’t you?” He sounded wary.
“Of course.”
“I’m glad. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
I muttered a non-committal reply and was relieved when he said he had to go and disconnected. I sat cradling the receiver, replaying the conversation in my head.
Why had Jordan called? It seemed unlikely he was asking my permission to go to the wedding, so this was probably a courtesy call.
I stared into space. Was I ready to see him again? When Sophie mentioned she invited him, I pushed it to the back of my mind, but I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
He turned my life over so thoroughly—smashed it into tiny pieces until it was unrecognizable. This time last year I was recruiting extra staff for the Call Center, travelling around the country meeting new customers, and constantly pushing for more business. In hindsight, it was exhausting, but at the time it’d been my sole focus.
What did I have now? A crumbling, part-furnished, part-decorated house and a muddy wasteland for a garden. And strangely, a growing sense of peace. Of course, that might be another type of exhaustion. I was active all day, every day. If I kept busy, I had no time to think about everything I’d lost.
Eager to derail this train of thought, I picked up the mail that was auto-forwarded from my old address. I slid the elastic band off the bundle of letters and flicked through them. A couple of utility bills. Appointment reminder from my optician. Renewal notices for my gym membership and car insurance. And a handwritten envelope in familiar writing. I turned it over and saw Jenny’s name at the bottom.
First Jordan, and now Jenny. I needed to upgrade from a soda to a glass of wine.
Dear Kate.
I keep going past your house, hoping to see you’re back, but it always looks empty. I’m writing this in the hope you’re getting your mail redirected.
You were right. All the little things Rob did which I was happy to overlook, came to a head a few days ago. I can’t be his wife anymore. I feel like such a huge failure. Even more so, that I don’t know why you left Jordan, and if you went through the pain and distress I’m feeling now.
I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. That I was too wrapped up in my own life. If you think we might be friends again, that you might trust me again, please call me. My numbers are at the bottom—my new cell phone, my parents’ number, and my office number.
I’m off sick at the moment, but I will go back to work next week. I’m staying with Mum and Dad. I adore them, but they are crazy over-protective, and I guess I’ll need to find someplace else.
I miss you. I miss hanging out with you, going to over-priced clubs and dancing all night, and knowing you’re there. I took you for granted, and I can never apologize enough.
If you don’t want to get in touch, I will understand.
Much love,
Jen xoxo
* * * *
I lay in the bath, a glass of wine at my side, and gazed at the uneven rows of mosaic tiles. I’d call Jenny later. That was one relationship I was more than ready to repair.
As for Jordan though… I was confused. He occupied a space in my heart, labeled Unfinished Business, and whether I liked it or not, he still had a hold on me. Three months apart only intensified my longing to be with him. He said he was looking forward to seeing me again.
Maybe he wanted a divorce.
When I first moved here, I sent him a message through Sophie, telling him I wanted a clean break. I hadn’t followed through with it. Why?
A noise beside me alerted me to Billy’s presence. He sat beside the tub, waiting for me to stroke him.
“My hands are wet, puss.”
He gazed at me, his eyes half-closed and his chin tipped up, and I gave in and scratched under his throat with damp fingers. He purred at my touch.
“What should I do, Billy? I’m going to see Jordan again soon, and I don’t think I can survive another encounter with him.”
19.3 Jordan
“You here for dinner tonight?” Louisa asked when I entered the apartment. “Marcus is out, and I really want ice cream. And we have none.” She narrowed her eyes at me, flicking her sharp gaze up and down. “You look different.” She pressed a kiss on my cheek. “You’re smiling. I haven’t seen that in forever. Come tell me why.”
I wasn’t ready to say anything, so I tried to divert her. “We’re close to both Harrods and Harvey Nichols. You could get any ice-cream flavor under the sun.”
Lou pouted. “They’re both full of Christmas shoppers. Already. It’s barely November.”
“Baskin-Robbins or Ben & Jerry’s?”
“Either. Are you going to bring me some?”
“Nope. You’re coming with me. Grab a coat. It’s cold out there. I’ll feed your ice-cream addiction, and we’ll pick up takeout for dinner.”
Arm in arm, we dodged the evening shoppers and walked the short distance to Harrods. It wasn’t cold for me, but Lou was still used to Houston temperatures, and had the heating cranked up constantly in the apartment. We headed straight for the ice-cream parlor, and Lou placed her order. Some triple-chocolate and whipped-cream concoction. I stuck to plain vanilla.
Happy now she had her sugar fix, Louisa sat back in her chair and studied me. “It’s still there—the smile. What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s probably just gas.”
“Jordan.”
“It’s nothing. I spoke to Kate today, about Sophie’s wedding. I thought it might be kind of awkward if she didn’t know I was going.”
“And?”
Sophie can invite who she likes. My smile dissolved, but then I thought about seeing Kate again in a couple weeks, and I felt my lips curving. “She’s okay with it.”