by Laura Carter
“When I left, Edmond just got me straight out of London. He arranged the job in New York for me.” Her eyes cast down to her delicate fingers in her lap. “Mike wasn’t good to me, Drew.”
He hurt her? Someone dared to hurt her?
I feel rage building inside me. Her eyes fill with unfallen tears and I can’t stay away from her any longer. I reach out and take her hand from her lap, locking her fingers between mine. “Don’t shut down on me, Becky. Talk to me.”
“I once told you we ended over babies. Well, that was kind of true.” She takes a large mouthful of martini and presses her eyes shut, opening them before she continues. “We got together when I was a teenager. I had a horrible home life. Nothing like yours. My dad died when I was young. I don’t even remember him. And the others, my mum and her multitude of boyfriends, they really couldn’t give a damn about me. Mike was older than me. He was stronger. And I thought he was something I needed. Someone to look after me. We moved in to his place fairly quickly, and everything started to go wrong.”
A tear rolls down her cheek. She swiftly swipes it away as if I might not see it. I squeeze her hand tighter in mine, not sure if I can bear to see her hurting.
“I didn’t notice at first. It was just small things. He would tell me not to go places, not to see people or do things. Then he’d tell me how to dress. Tell me…” She clears her throat and stares into her half-empty glass. “He’d tell me I was ugly. Or too fat.” She laughs but it’s not an amused sound at all. It’s a somber sound. “I was a UK size eight. I mean, Christ, what size did he want me to be?”
“You’re beautiful, Becky. More than beautiful.”
At my words, another tear rolls down her cheek. I rub it away with the pad of my thumb.
“I just became this shell. He didn’t save me like I thought. He caged me. And I was…intimidated by him. Scared even. He had never actually hit me, only threatened it, but I was afraid of the possibility, I guess. And I was young. I had nowhere else to go. I lost the few friends I had. My family… Well, that wasn’t a good option. I was alone. I was lost. I didn’t know what to do and I had no one to talk to. Somewhere along the line, I agreed to marry him.” She shakes her head. “You must think I sound pathetic.”
I gently place my knuckle under her chin and make her look at me. “You have no idea what I’m thinking. It definitely isn’t that.” I’m thinking would like to get my hands on this guy and fuck him up.
She drops her gaze to our hands in her lap and rolls her fingertips over my knuckles. “The only place he let me go was work. The café I worked in became my sanctuary. Then, one day, I told you, I ended up working in a branch in London, and I met Edmond. He was kind and honest. It was as if he saw right through me, like he could see that I was trapped.”
I think of Edmond last night in Paddy’s, and I feel like a dick for challenging him.
“After I started working for Edmond, I was commuting in and out of London, and it meant I spent a lot of time out of the house. Over time, Mike got angry about it. He started talking about children and saying I should stay home. Rather than telling him I didn’t want to have children with him, I told him I should keep my job, for money to help our family.” She wipes another tear and drains the drink in her glass. Then she looks me in the eye, as if she’s building courage. “I got pregnant.”
I try not to react outwardly when everything in my body is screaming at me.
“I’m sorry to disturb you. Will you be dining with us this evening?” We look between each other and to the waitress, accepting menus. For my part, grateful for a short break to get my head straight. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I definitely wasn’t expecting this.
I barely take in the menu, selecting dishes I probably won’t even eat. My mind is awash with thoughts of Becky, babies, her being hurt.
The waitress takes our order and leads us to a table. Whether she took her cue from Becky’s red eyes, or just has good intuition, she places us in a secluded table in the corner of the dimly lit restaurant.
Becky gives me a meek smile and thanks the waitress at the table side. Before she sits, I place a hand on the small of her back and pull her temple to my cheek. I’m terrified of what comes next in the story, but she’s hurting more than me, and I can’t stand it.
I move my table chair from opposite hers to adjacent. The waitress adjusts our place settings, and the sommelier brings a bottle of wine. We both take a drink, our silence unbroken.
“Becky, you don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to, Drew. That’s why I didn’t. But in not telling you I risked everything. I might still. But you flew to London to hear what I’m keeping from you. The least I can do is be honest with you now. And…”
“And what?”
“And hope that…you’ll still want me.”
I want to tell her I can’t imagine a circumstance in which I wouldn’t want her, but the words don’t come because they’re locked behind fear. Fear of what she might tell me.
She looks away from me and runs her fingers around the base of her wineglass. “I had an accident one night. I left work. It was dark. I slipped down the steps at the underground station.” Her face contorts as she fights back sobs. I take her hand beneath the table, and she grips me tightly. “I lost the baby.”
A slow, unsteady breath leaves me. “I’m sorry.” I’m not sorry that she doesn’t have someone else’s child, but I’m sorry that she lost her baby.
She pulls her hand from mine and sniffs, pressing the corner of her napkin to her eyes. “Drew, I… When it happened…I felt relieved. What kind of person does that make me?”
My throat is dry, and I have no words. All I can do is watch her pain.
“I would have loved that baby. It would have been mine, and I would have given it everything I could. But, when I miscarried, it was like a second chance. It was as if something woke up inside me. I knew I couldn’t bring a life into the world with someone like Mike. I knew I wanted to be stronger. To be a better person. Otherwise, I’d never be able to show my child how to be strong. The night I lost the baby was the one and only time he hit me. I left.”
I don’t know what makes me lean in and kiss her, but I do. I hold her face and keep her lips pressed to mine, smoothing her hair as she cries against me. When she calms, she kisses me back.
I allow myself to hope.
She holds my hands when she separates from me. “I was afraid to tell you. I thought you would think I’m a monster.”
“I don’t think you’re a monster, Becky. I think you’re strong. I think you’re amazing.”
“Drew, you…you know a different version of me. I started to become the person I wanted to be in New York. Then I met you, and for the first time ever, I felt wanted. You make me feel confident and attractive. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I didn’t want you to know the old me. The weak me. I just wanted to be Becky. The Becky you know. I wanted you to see my wings.”
“I see your wings, Becky. And I want to be your anchor too. I’ll never try to control you. I never want you to be anyone other than who you want to be. But I’d like to be by your side.”
Her tears come again but they merge with a happy laugh and she presses her smile to my mouth. “I’d like that.”
When we break our connection, she digs her teeth into her lip. “What is it?” I ask.
“I…I don’t know if it’s fair to ask. Not now. Actually, forget it. Maybe you should take some time, you know, to think about things. Not that I want you to change your mind, I just—”
“Becky, you’re babbling. What is it?”
Her chest rises as her eyes connect with mine. I brace myself, wondering how much more I can take onboard tonight.
“The reason Mike came to New York, or the way he managed to find me, is because I started divorce proceedings. I wanted t
o be strong enough to finally break from him, for good. I also wanted to be able to tell you about him, but I wanted to be able to say I was getting a divorce, not that I’m married. Maybe that seems crazy now, given the mess I made of everything. I could just feel things changing between us; then on Monday, when you…we slept together. I don’t know, it felt…”
“Like we made love?”
Her mouth curves at one side. “Yes. I knew then that I’d fallen for you, with all of me. I think I knew it before then, but the words were right there, and I felt like I couldn’t say them, not until I had taken care of things here.”
Her words wrap around my heart, warming me, taking hold of me. She hasn’t said it, not exactly, but she feels the same.
“I’m here because I have a meeting with Mike and our lawyers tomorrow to sort out the divorce.”
“And you want me to go with you?”
“I’m not asking you to represent me or anything, I wouldn’t do that. I just, what I would really love to do is walk into that room tomorrow, look the bastard in the eye, and tell him to go fuck himself.”
Her level of hatred for this man is appropriate, but hearing it from her surprises me.
“The thing is, he has this kind of hold over me, and as much as I want to break free of him, I know I’ll sit in that room and not say anything. If you were there, it would just… I would just feel…”
I reach out and pull her in to kiss me. “I’ll be there with you.”
She kisses me with such urgency it leaves me desperate to hold her, to take care of her, protect her, and make love to her.
“I would really like to have our food brought up to my room.”
She presses her forehead to mine and lets out a short giggle. “Me too.”
“God, I’ve missed that smile.”
Chapter 25
Drew
We step out of a black cab in front of an old English building—white with dark wood beams and windows. It’s like something from a Charles Dickens novel. It harbors a small family law firm.
Rain is pounding against the sidewalk. I hold up a large umbrella, borrowed from the hotel, that both Becky and I can fit under. Becky straightens her black tailored dress and fusses, replacing her handbag over her shoulder and smoothing her already perfect hair.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She nods too quickly and tightly to be convincing.
“Let’s just take a breath, okay? Look at me.” I run my fingertips down her cheek, and she leans in to my palm. I want to tell her I’m here with her, that we’ll do this together, but that’s not what she needs. Instead, I tell her, “You’ve got this, Becky. You’ve come this far all on your own. Go in there with your head held high and finish this.”
“You’re right. You’re right. I’m ready.”
“That’s my girl.” I kiss her temple, then take her hand as we walk inside. The building smells musty, like an old library. Becky takes the lead, speaking to the receptionist. I stand behind her.
“It’s this way,” she tells me, even though I heard the directions from the receptionist.
“Lead the way.”
We walk down a wooden corridor that’s decorated with gold-framed portraits of the founders or ex-attorneys of the firm. It screams old, stuffy British law school to me.
Outside the meeting room we were directed to, a man introduces himself to Becky as the attorney she spoke with on the phone from New York. He has a rotund belly, and what is left of his hair is gray. He’s a short man, and his suit pants ripple at the heels. I inwardly roll my eyes. I could do a better job of this, and I don’t have the first clue about handling a divorce.
“Victor, this is Drew.”
We shake hands and he eyes me suspiciously, as if weighing up whether I’m going to cause trouble in there. Wearing an Omega, chinos, and a tailored shirt, I hardly think I look like the type, but in my mind, I would love to lay my hands on the bastard who hurt Becky.
“If you’re ready, Becky, we’ll go in. Mike is in there with his lawyer. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”
“Not a thing. I just want rid of him.”
“All right then.”
She could take whatever she wants. Damn, she could press charges against the asshole. But this is her show, not mine. I run a hand down her spine, letting her know I’m with her, before Victor opens the door. I feel her tense when she sees her soon-to-be ex sitting on the far side of a mahogany table. He stays seated, his eyes fixed on me. I notice more about him this time—his dark eyes, his harsh angular features, his broad shoulders. It doesn’t deter me or make my anger wane in the slightest. In fact, it gets my hackles up. I want to put this guy’s nose across the other side of his face.
“Ms. Fletcher. My name is Harold.” After introductions, we take our seats opposite Mike and his attorney. The air is charged, tense, in the heat of the room.
“Well, this should be very simple,” Victor begins, shuffling papers in a cardboard file like this is the nineteen fifties. “My client wants only to have divorce papers signed today. She isn’t interested in dividing assets. She wants only to walk away.”
“Rebecca, you don’t want this.” I feel myself go rigid as Mike looks at Becky. His words sound like a plea, but his eyes say they’re a threat. I’d like nothing more than to ram my fist into his throat.
She closes her eyes. “Mike, you have nothing to offer me. Don’t make this difficult. Just sign the papers.”
“What if I won’t? What are you going to do about it, Rebecca?” His words are low, ominous even. I have to bite my tongue to keep from defending her. She needs to do this herself.
“Then we’ll go to court if that’s what it takes.”
He stands from his chair with such force the wood clatters against the wall behind him. “You’re a manipulative bitch.”
I begin counting to ten in my head. When I haven’t calmed, I count to twenty, then thirty. At this rate, there will be someone ending up behind bars and it might not be him.
“Mr. Fletcher, my client would like this to remain amicable,” Victor begins.
“Amicable? She fucking stole nine years of my life, and you want me to play nice? She killed my baby. Our baby.”
I watch Becky’s eyes fill. Her voice is weak. “That wasn’t my fault.”
I place my hand on her thigh and lean into her ear. “He knows that, Becky. Don’t let him get to you.”
She looks at me with surprise, as if she’s just remembered I’m here with her. I will her to be strong, to do this for herself. I want her to be the Becky from New York. The Becky she wants to be.
“I should be filing for fucking adultery,” Mike snarls. “You expect me to believe you weren’t fucking this American twat? Is that why you left?” He places his hands on the desk, leaning toward Becky, making himself taller than her, more intimidating.
“Mike, sit down; this isn’t helping anyone,” his attorney says. Mike shrugs him off.
“Do you enjoy fucking my wife?”
I stand from the table and give him a sadistic grin. “She hasn’t been your wife for a long time. She should be hauling your ass through assault proceedings, you son of a bitch. Consider yourself a very lucky man that she just wants to walk away. And by the way, if you and I have a problem, we can step outside. I’d love to give you a beating.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen. Let’s all calm down.”
“Victor, I just want to sign the papers, that’s all,” Becky pleads. “I want nothing from you, Mike, only a divorce. Behaving like this won’t change that fact. If you don’t want to spend thousands of pounds in legal fees, just sign the papers.”
“That’s it? Nine years and that’s all you have to say to me?”
Becky looks down at the table.
I take a seat beside her. “Actually, Becky did have something she wanted to
say to you. She told me so right before we went to bed together last night. Do you remember, Becky?”
She looks at me and I give her the slightest nod to tell her, You’ve got this. She squeezes my hand, then slowly rises to her full height, facing Mike. The feeling of her strength growing is palpable. She signs her name on the divorce papers in front of her, then pushes them across the table. “There was one thing I wanted to say. Go fuck yourself, you sick, hateful bastard.”
With that, she turns on her heel and struts out of the room. I can’t help smirking at the sick, hateful bastard across from me, proud as hell of my girl.
I rise from the table. “Gents, it was a pleasure.” Then I go find Becky.
She’s trembling in the reception area when I get to her. I fold her straight into my arms. “You were so fucking amazing, Becky. Confident. Hot.”
I feel her shudder against me, and when I pull back to look at her, I realize she’s laughing.. “I was a little dramatic.”
“Spend enough time with us Yanks and it’ll happen.” I wink at her and press my mouth to hers. She kisses me back deeply, like she’s letting go of everything she has held inside for so long. Like she’s telling me she’ll be mine. I try to tell her in that kiss, she won’t ever fight alone again.
In the distance, I see her ex head into the toilets. Perhaps there’s just one thing left to do. “I’m going to use the bathroom; then let’s get out of here.”
Becky lets go of my hand and I follow Mike Fletcher into the restroom. He watches me in the mirror above the urinal as he zips himself back into his jeans. “You motherfucker,” he snarls, his lips trembling with hatred.
He turns quickly and throws a swinging hook at me, but I duck and he misses.
I lunge at him, ramming my forearm into his neck and pinning him to the tiled wall. Then I drive my fist into his gut so hard he retches. “You want to pick a fight, champ, pick it with me.”
I pull my fist back and drive it so hard into his jaw his head rocks back against the tiles. His eyes roll. I rear my arm again and enjoy the crunch when my knuckles connect with his nose. Blood starts pouring from his face. He falls to the floor when I release him.