Seeing Elle’s face light up as I took her around the winter festival on the edge of town was the best part of today.
The worst part of today is now. She’s sleeping and I’m checking her phone, not because I don’t trust her but because something upset her and I want to know what it was. It doesn’t take long to find the cause of her hurt and I grit my teeth.
Antient? Who the hell was his English teacher in school? Although I probably can’t blame them for the fact that this kid is an arsehole.
Kid… I shouldn’t call him that, he’s the same age as Elle.
Fucking ancient… I am not ancient.
Eloise stirs in her sleep so I lock her phone and tuck it back under her pillow.
She smiles in her slumber when I press my chest to her back and wrap my arm around her middle. A sweet sigh parts her even sweeter lips, making me want to kiss them. I don’t. I merely press mine to her neck and close my eyes. I don’t feel tired; my mind is too tangled by other things, one being my wife, another being the many bills I can’t pay.
Chapter Thirteen
Eloise
I pull the Christmas cracker, cheering when I get the larger side, effectively winning the toy and hat that lie within the hollow tube of pretty covered cardboard.
Isaac groans, having lost three times now. I donate one of my two awesome paper hats to him, the pink one of course. He takes it, smiling, and places it atop his head.
John pours me another Bailey’s Irish Cream, which I sip eagerly as I tip the contents of my Christmas cracker onto the table.
“What did you get?”
I pull out mini nail clippers. “Just what I’ve always wanted.” I scratch at Isaac’s face with my long nails.
Isaac snatches my hand and brings my knuckles to his lips before placing it on the table, keeping it tight under his warm palm.
With my free hand I continue to bring my glass of Bailey’s to my mouth, smiling as Isaac and John share happy memories of old camping trips.
That happiness vanishes though when Isaac’s phone lights up with a text message. He swipes his thumb across the screen and immediately his face falls.
“Excuse me for a second,” he mutters, releasing my hand and standing from the table.
“Chess?” John asks, either not sensing his son’s change in moods or just not acknowledging it.
I nod as I watch my husband leave the room, his lips pinched and shoulders tense. I want to go after him to find out what’s suddenly gotten him so pissed off, but I figure there’s time to ask him later.
It’s Christmas; it’s family day; drama can wait.
“Thank you for coming to spend Christmas with us, Eloise. I know we probably weren’t your first choice,” John says quietly, his eyes assessing me, and I’m not too sure as to why.
“Of course you were. Even if my dad and I were suddenly on good terms, I’d still probably be here.”
His warm eyes soften and rest on mine for a long moment. “You’re a good girl, Elle.” I’m feeling a ‘but’ coming. “But…” Ah, there it is. “It’s Christmas. I won’t begin a lecture today. It wouldn’t be useful anyway.”
I sigh on the inside.
“I love him; that’s all that matters at this point.” I say calmly, even though I’m tired of rehashing it. “I’m his wife now.”
“Do you know what that actually means, though? You’re so young.”
“No younger than you when you married Mrs Price.”
“And for the first few years, I won’t lie, I wasn’t a happy man.”
I tilt my head with intrigue.
“I’d gone from free and single to suddenly having a ball and chain.” He shrugs and sips more of his drink. “Exactly like you. I won’t lie; I wish you’d waited.” As he’s said many times. “I genuinely don’t believe this will work out between the two of you.” Another thing he’s said many times. “I think you’ll get bored. He’ll start to resent you and the whole thing will implode.” Something he hasn’t said to me before now.
“Well if that does happen…”
“When,” he says, sloshing drink over the side of his glass by mistake. I hate it when people get all truthful when they’re drunk. Nobody wants to hear it. “When it happens.”
“If,” I implore, my hands twisting on my lap. “We’ll deal with that when it comes to it. It’s our business now, nobody else’s. This was our decision and these are our lives. What’s done is done.”
His brow quirks and his look is one of respect. “Fair enough. Like I said, it’s too late now.”
“Why do you keep repeating this subject?” I ask quietly, my eyes scanning the doorway for Isaac’s return.
“Honestly?”
“Yes, I’d like more of your honesty.” I roll my eyes back to him.
“Because I think if you’d have waited a few more years and come back to each other, you’d probably be together until the day you die.”
My lips part in shock. I wasn’t expecting that.
“I think you’re a well matched couple. I just think that the timing and the circumstances were fucking stupid and it’s a shame.”
“You’re wrong; you’ll see. We can do this.”
He shrugs again and his eyes go to his wife. “For your sakes I really hope so.”
We can do this. Nobody can make such a harsh judgement when they aren’t in our shoes, feeling what we feel, seeing what we see.
Isaac picks this moment to re-enter the room. His face is slightly red and his hand is tight on his phone.
I ask him what’s wrong with my eyes but he avoids my gaze and sits in the seat he vacated, his entire body tense.
“Problem?” John asks aloud as we both stare at Isaac. He’s so stressed I can literally feel it pulsing from his body in waves.
“Nothing to worry about on Christmas.” Isaac clears his throat and shifts in his seat as his phone chimes again. He hastily switches it off and stuffs it into his pocket.
Well this day ended on a sour note.
Isaac
Christmas was a flop. I know Eloise is irritated with me, even though she hasn’t said so. I can feel her annoyance floating in the air of the car. I’m just not in the mood to address it right now.
It’s just one more thing on the shit list that I have to deal with. She doesn’t know how lucky she’s got it. All she has to worry about is her grades and that’s it.
I’ve got a mortgage in my name that I can’t fucking pay, people texting me asking me whether or not I’m sick in the head for getting with a child, a job I hate, a boss I fucking hate even more… the list goes on.
I’m barely holding my head above water right now and I’m starting to question my intelligence on all of my decisions, past and previous.
“Are we going to talk about this?” She asks, her tone laced with the same annoyance I can feel clamping tight onto my already tense body.
“I’m really not in the mood, Elle.” I say exasperatedly.
I watch her run her fingers through her hair. “We’re supposed to talk about stuff. I’m pretty sure if there was a guidebook to marriage it would say communication is key.”
“This isn’t about our marriage,” I snap, really just wanting quiet right now, though I know she won’t bloody give it to me. “Not everything is about us.” But it is about us. It’s about everything surrounding us. I’m just too mentally exhausted to deal with any of it right now.
“If you say so.” She shakes her head before resting her forehead on the window. “Let’s just go home. I need to sleep.”
Finally! “Me too.”
But sleep is something that eludes me for the better half of the night. I’m only just drowsing off, listening to my wife’s soft breathing, as the sun begins to rise in the sky.
It’s past one when I wake and Eloise isn’t home. She must have gone to spend some time with Hayley or her mum. I don’t blame her. I was very unfair to her last night and I curse the thoughts I was having about our marriage and towards her l
ast night. She didn’t deserve that. We’re in this together.
The house is lonely without her and too warm, even though it’s winter. She has a bad habit of leaving the heating on.
Slightly clammy and definitely exhausted, I have a quick shower and then check my phone before going downstairs.
I smile when I see the note on the fridge that reads:
I love you, even if you are an arsehole. With Mum.
E x
Why she didn’t text me I have no idea.
At the thought of texting, my mind goes back to last night and my anger spikes.
I had a very interesting message from Diplock last night, along with a few others from old work colleagues. It seems the town now knows of my and Eloise’s relationship and they do not approve.
I push that to the back of my mind. There’s no point in dwelling on it. What’s done is done and it’s none of their bloody business. I just really hope my dad doesn’t take the brunt of it all when school starts again.
*****
When Eloise finally comes home, I’m on the couch in nothing but my pyjama bottoms, a glass of whiskey in one hand. I wait for her to hang up her coat before opening my arm as an invitation for her to join me.
“Sorry I’m so late,” she tells me quietly, her words slightly slurred. “I…”
“Have been drinking?” My brow quirks in intrigue. “Where?”
“Hayley and I got together with a few old friends. We figured it was high time to tell people about my relationship with you. They already know anyway.”
My brain only registers one part of that sentence and my hands begin to tremble slightly. “Old friends?”
“Yeah.” She smiles and it’s a drunken smile.
My breath leaves me when she flops back onto the couch, her head on my stomach, causing my drink to slosh around in the glass in my hand.
“Want to go to bed?” She asks, rubbing her temple against my navel.
I won’t lie; I like the feeling of it. “Tell me about your night.”
“I already told you. We went to that place near where I used to work. It was actually quite busy considering what day it is.” She snuggles further into me and my still trembling fingers go to her hair. Feeling the silky strands slide between them calms them slightly. “That’s nice.” She mumbles sleepily.
“With who?”
“The old gang, minus Shannon. Nobody has heard from her in a while. Apparently she moved to live with her grandma or something.”
Ah, the infamous Shannon who spread her legs for Diplock. Poor girl. “Did you have a good time?”
“It was great actually. Everyone is doing well. Wesley has dropped out of University already.”
I can’t even remember who that is. “That’s not good.”
“He’s doing well though. Whatever makes him happy.”
I nod and stare at her profile. She closes her eyes and hums as my hand continues to tease her hair. “How much did you spend?”
“Only twenty.”
“Only twenty?”
She moves onto her back and glares at me. “Yes, only twenty. I haven’t had a drink with friends for a while, unlike my dear husband.”
“But we really can’t afford it.”
“My mum gave me money for Christmas.” She says and pushes my hand away before sitting up and stretching. “Can we stop talking about money now? It’s boring.”
“It’s an important subject.”
She snorts.“Hardly.”
“Don’t be so naïve.”
“We have enough to get by. I wanted a drink with friends. It’s not a big deal.”
“I didn’t say it was.” I hold my hands up, guarding myself from the elevated tone of voice she’s throwing my way.
“Good.” And she stands, still stretching before her eyes come back to me. “What shall we do tomorrow?”
“I’m working,” I remind her and her face falls.
“Right…”
“Rain check.”
A long sigh leaves her and I can’t help but roll my eyes. I have to work if she wants to keep this house. Sometimes I forget that even though she’s mature for her age, she isn’t always. Now is one of those times and it irritates me.
“Do you want to talk about yesterday?” She asks and moves towards the door.
“Not really.”
“Didn’t think so.” She vanishes from sight and it’s not until I hear her reach the top of the stairs that I turn the TV off and down the rest of my drink.
Eloise
I awake to the bed dipping and my eyes burn. I’m so tired and still a little drunk. It’s still dark outside. Checking the clock on my new bedside table I see that it’s a little past three in the morning. I got home at ten. Why is Isaac only coming to bed now?
I hear his shoe drop on the floor.
Why was he wearing shoes? He was half dressed when I came home. I’m sure of it.
“Hey,” I say, placing my hand between his shoulder blades as he tugs his other shoe off and drops it on the floor.
He doesn’t answer me, only pulling his shirt off and throwing it in the direction of the laundry basket. It misses.
“Where have you been?” I ask, my eyes on his gorgeous arse as he stands and tugs down his jeans. The buckle clatters loudly when it hits the floor.
“I went for a drive,” he says quietly, his back still to me in the moonlight that pours through the gap between the curtains. “Go back to sleep.”
He went for a drive? “What?”
“Go back to sleep.”
He finally climbs into bed and instantly rolls onto his stomach away from me.
I lie still, my mouth open in shock. “You went for a drive?”
“Yes, as in I got in the car and went vroom vroom.”
I’d laugh if I wasn’t so perplexed. “Why?”
“I needed to clear my head.” He rolls onto his back and the moonlight makes the blue of his eyes sparkle like sapphires.
“Clear your head of what?” I suddenly feel scared. This isn’t right; this isn’t my Isaac. This isn’t our relationship. I feel like I’ve stepped into a parallel universe where my husband no longer respects me like he once did. He doesn’t respond so I keep pushing. “Clear your head of what exactly?”
“Nothing that we need to talk about at three in the morning.”
I sit up and flick on the lamp that sits on my bedside table behind the alarm. My arm keeps the blanket around my chest, hiding my nudity.
“Elle,” he whines and rolls back onto his stomach. “Go to bloody sleep.”
“Isaac, turn around right now.” He does as he’s told but he’s not happy about it. “Should I be worried?”
“About what?”
“About whatever the fuck it is you’re going through?”
“I’m not going through anything. I’m just tired.”
I scoff. “Not too tired to go for a drive.” And then another thought hits. “Wait… you were drinking earlier. Are you fucking crazy?”
“It was watered down whiskey. I only had half of a tumbler. Nowhere near enough to even slightly damage my senses.”
Is he hearing himself? “Talk to me.” I’m not above begging. “Please. You’ve been dodgy with me ever since your dad’s on Christmas. Did I do something?”
“No.” His eyes soften and his arm hooks around my waist, trying to pull me back to my prone position. “Nothing at all, Elle. Things just aren’t…”
“Aren’t what?” Gulp.
“They just aren’t… fuck.” He sits up and runs his fingers through his hair. I’m almost scared of what he’s going to say next.
Things aren’t what? What does he mean?
“Things aren’t as easy as I thought they’d be.” He admits and my heart shatters into a thousand dull fragments of nothing. When he sees the hurt in my eyes, his own eyes widen. “Shit, Elle, I don’t mean it like that…”
I open my mouth to speak but what exactly can I say to that? He waits though,
almost like he’s not sure what to say to defend himself. “Do you regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“Regret us?”
He hesitates. “Do you?”
“No.” I respond immediately because it’s the truth. “But you do…”
“No.”
I don’t believe him and the thought that I no longer make him happy makes my eyes tear up and burn as my entire body seems to collapse in on itself with an agony I’ve never felt before. He shows no reaction and for the first time since I met him, I think I actually might hate him a little.
I don’t want to talk about this anymore, so I roll onto my side away from him and pull the blanket up and over my face. Even if I did turn, yell at him and get extremely angry or emotional, what would be the point? I’m not sure I even want to know his answers to anything.
I feel Isaac’s eyes burn into me for a while before he leans over me, clicks the lamp off and turns his back to me.
With a shuddering breath, I shut my eyes, ignoring the tears that are pushed free to wander down my cheek and nose.
I don’t know how to deal with this feeling inside.
It’s morning and after a rough few hours I don’t feel any better.
The bed beside me is empty, just like my heart. I really don’t want to get up, but I hate seeing that on TV and in books - women so devastated by men they stay in bed for days because of the hurt they felt.
I wish I hadn’t been so quick to judge. Now I know exactly why they stayed in bed. This fucking sucks.
I pull the blanket up and over my head, deciding a few more minutes in bed won’t hurt. After about four minutes, I hear the door click open and smell something sweet waft in with it.
“Elle?” Isaac’s soft voice, extremely soft, sounds as his foot nudges my hip.
I don’t respond, my heart fluttering with pain. I only pull the blanket tighter around my head.
“Elle,” he says, even softer and slightly choked. I hear something rattle as it’s placed on the ground and feel the bed dip as a hand comes to my hip over the blanket. His hand slides up the lump that is my body before I feel him start to try and tug it down.
Destruction: The Distraction Trilogy #2 Page 17