by Lissa Del
“A bad day?” I laugh, sloshing wine into my glass. “It’s a bit more than just a bad day.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to make it worse, but I do need to talk to you, remember?” In all the drama with Noah I’d forgotten about his words this morning. It had seemed like a big deal at the time, but now all I can think about is how I’ve screwed up my career. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you but I didn’t want to do it until your thesis was finished,” Leo continues hesitantly.
“So talk,” I splay my hands in front of me. “I’m listening. My thesis is finished, as is my career, probably, so I have all the time in the world.”
“Not until you’ve calmed down.”
“I’m calm. What is it you want to tell me, Doctor Russell?” Usually I use the term as an endearment, but this time I throw it in his face and he flinches visibly.
“Sarah, this is serious. Could you please calm down? I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Leo. I didn’t mean to make everything about me. We should focus on you and your issues.” It comes out acid on my tongue, but the weeks of suspicion and doubt are clawing to the surface, riding the wave of my anger to freedom.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re so smart why don’t you figure it out.”
Leo stares at me for a long moment as if he’s looking at a complete stranger and then he snaps.
“I’m not doing this,” he growls. Before I can formulate an answer he’s snatched up his keys and stormed out of the apartment.
“Shit!” I hurl the contents of my glass down the sink, the magenta stain pooling around the plug-hole bringing me to my senses. I catch Leo waiting for the elevator.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” he snaps. “I’m not staying here with you acting like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like a royal bitch.”
I don’t even flinch, too worked up to care what he thinks.
“So you’re just going to walk away?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
The elevator doors open with a cheerful ping and he steps inside. Even from here I can see the muscle working in his cheek and the furious glint of his eyes.
“Call me when you’ve calmed down,” he says as the doors close.
“Asshole!” I kick at the metal door and then let out a shriek of pain as my big toe connects with the unyielding surface. I hop back to my apartment in a foul temper and refresh my glass of wine – seeing as Leo’s made himself scarce I have no reason to stay sober – before calling Jess.
“What are you up to?”
“Not much,” she sounds bored and half-asleep. “Why, what’s up?”
“Do you want to go out?”
Jess is immediately suspicious.
“Where’s Leo?”
“We had a fight. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’ll be ready in ten,” she announces breezily.
Neither of us feel much like clubbing, so we settle for supper at one of Jess’s favourite restaurants. Jimmy’s is a prawn shack only a few minutes from her apartment, the best place in town for seafood, and, best of all, it offers a complimentary bottle of wine with any platter ordered.
“So,” Jess asks, armed with her first glass of red. “What happened?”
I start by telling her about Noah and the phone call. Her caramel eyes open wider and her choice of curse words goes a long way to appeasing my sense of injured indignance.
“He’s a real piece of work,” she huffs when I’m done.
“Yeah,” I agree wholeheartedly, spearing a piece of calamari.
“I don’t get what this has to do with Leo, though?”
“He thinks I brought it upon myself.”
“No!” Jess is outraged. “What an asshole.”
“Yeah,” I agree again, but this time I can’t put quite as much enthusiasm behind it.
“So he’s left?”
I nod.
“For how long?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well good riddance! I can’t believe he’d think this is somehow your fault.”
I hesitate, peeling a garlic prawn slowly and thoughtfully.
“Sarah?” Jess’s brows are raised and a knowing look is dawning on her lively face.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me the whole story?”
“I am!” I insist. “Leo said I have no one else to blame but myself.”
“Um-hmm,” she drops her fork and fixes me in a challenging stare.
“He did!”
“So you are absolutely blameless in so far as his departure is concerned?”
“Well, not exactly,” I mumble, and she preys on my moment of weakness.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar!”
“I didn’t do anything.”
She goes ominously quiet and I start to feel a bit like a criminal in an interrogation room. Jess’s tactics are militant and it doesn’t take long for me to cave in.
“Okay, I’m not admitting any guilt, but I may have been a bit of a bitch.”
“Explain.”
“What do you want me to say, Jess? I was in a bad mood, okay! I just learned my entire career could be jeopardised. Can you honestly blame me?”
“No,” she relents, chugging back a spectacular sip of wine. “I don’t blame you. Tonight, we commiserate. But I have a feeling tomorrow you’re going to need to do some serious sucking up.”
“I’ll think about it tomorrow,” I grin, and I raise my glass to hers.
I wake up with the mother of all hangovers. I barely remember catching a cab home, and after a lengthy search I finally locate my cell phone in the laundry basket under a tangle of clothing. The battery’s dead so I plug it in to charge while the coffee brews. After a cool shower I feel marginally more human and I check my messages. There’s nothing from Leo. Ignoring the tug at my gut, I get dressed and resolve to find something productive to do today, but when I yank open my front door I walk right into him, his key in his outstretched hand. He takes in my pallor and the scruffy bun on top of my head and his frown deepens. In comparison, he looks fantastic. He’s wearing his gym clothes, still damp with sweat, and his hair is slicked back over his forehead, making his scar more prominent.
“Hi,” I say, feeling shy and awkward.
“Hi,” he takes in my bruised eyes and makes the obvious deduction. “Heavy night?”
“Jess and I went to Johnny’s.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed your evening.” There’s a hard edge to his voice.
“I didn’t know if you’d be coming back this morning, after what happened last night.” I say.
“Why wouldn’t I come back?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug, “things got pretty heated.”
“We had a fight,” he corrects. “I’m not in the habit of ending a relationship just because of an argument.” He regards me levelly. “May I come in?”
“Of course!” I swing the door open and pad back into the living room. Leo flops onto the sofa beside me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “I was an absolute bitch.”
“Yeah,” he runs his hand through his hair. “You were. But, to be fair, I didn’t help matters much. I was stressed out to begin with and I overreacted. Have you heard anything else – about the internship?”
I shake my head.
“No.”
“Nothing from Noah?”
The mere thought of Noah’s name makes me sick to my stomach.
“No. And I doubt I will. He got what he wanted.”
“I can’t believe he would be so petty.”
“That’s Noah,” I sigh.
Leo takes my hand hesitantly and I lean into him, letting my head rest on his shoulder. It’s awkward for both of us, but as his thumb stro
kes the palm of my hand I slowly relax against him. My eyes are half-closing when I feel him shift beside me.
“I’m going to make some coffee. You want some?”
Something isn’t right. He’s acting strangely, as if he’s nervous, and I recall with a start that he has something he wants to tell me.
“No, I just had,” I say, and then, taking the bull by the horns, “you wanted to speak to me about something?”
He stands abruptly and heads toward the kitchen.
“I’m going to have a cup,” he calls over his shoulder. Intrigued, I follow and watch as he switches on the machine.
“Leo?”
His back is to me, but his shoulders slump and his hands clench into fists at his sides. Without saying a word, he switches the machine off.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” he announces. He puffs out a long breath of air and then finally turns to face me.
“I want your word you’ll hear me out before you say anything. No,” he insists, as I automatically nod in agreement, “your word. Once I’m done you can throw things around, kick me out, do whatever it is you need to do, but you hear me out first. Give me a chance to explain myself.”
“What’s going on?” For the first time I almost don’t want to know. The way he’s acting is scaring me. “Does this have anything to do with your sister or the hospital?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Um,” I cast my eyes downward in embarrassment, “I overheard you and Ellen talking that night we were there for dinner. And I’ve overheard a few of your telephone conversations.”
Leo looks visibly shaken. “Why haven’t you brought it up before?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, “I was scared, I guess. Is that what this is about?”
“First, I want you to promise,” he reminds me.
“I promise I’ll hear you out.” Then, after a quiet minute, “Should we go sit down?”
“No,” he shakes his head and I wait for him to explain why not, but instead, he drops the bombshell. “Sarah, I’m married.”
Words form in my mouth but they don’t trespass past my lips. I bite down hard on my tongue, trying to control the urge to react, to yell at him, to demand answers. I promised I would hear him out and despite the dizzying nausea and the silent screaming inside of me, I wait.
“My wife and I separated almost a year ago,” Leo is hesitant at first, but his voice grows stronger as he speaks. “I’m not in love with her anymore but she won’t give me a divorce. I haven’t had anything to do with her,” he is pleading with me to believe him, “not since months before I met you. In my heart it’s over, but she won’t accept it.”
In the pause that follows there are a million things I want to say, but I can sense he’s not done yet, so I ask the most obvious question first. “Why won’t she accept it?”
“It’s complicated,” he tugs at his hair again. “I told you about how I changed – how I want different things?” I nod my confirmation. “That’s when I left. Clare is part of the me I don’t want to be anymore.”
The casual mention of her name is my undoing and my knees buckle beneath me.
“I need to sit down,” I say, practically sprinting from the kitchen. Leo is beside me in an instant, his strong hands holding me up, but I shove him away.
“No,” I say, my voice cracking with the strain. I perch on the edge of the sofa and he retreats to a respectful distance, but his blue eyes watch over me in concern. “Your wife… Clare,” the name is bitter on my tongue, “is she by any chance a doctor too?”
His eyes widen. “Yes. How do you…”
I give a harsh bark of hysterical laughter. “Lucky guess.”
“Sarah?”
“I went to the hospital after our last trip to Serenity to try to do some digging. There’s a Doctor Russell on the third floor.”
A pained expression pulls at his face. “That’s her. She’s in radiology.”
I close my eyes. “Of course she is.” Because why wouldn’t she be? A successful, beautiful, talented woman who is the perfect match for a brilliant surgeon.
“Sarah, please. Don’t…”
“So that’s why your sister threw such a fit when you mentioned marriage! Of course you can’t marry me – you already have a wife!”
“Sarah,” he tries again, but I’m on a rollercoaster and can’t stop myself.
“You know what I don’t understand?” I sob. “Why someone who has the perfect life – a brilliant career, more money than he can possibly hope to spend, a flashy car and a beautiful, successful wife on his arm, would give it all up to slum it in college with a mediocre girl who hasn’t even got a job!”
This time his arms close around me in a vice-grip and he ignores my attempts to push him away.
“I’m not letting you go,” he growls, impassioned, as I lash out at him. “Stop it, Sarah! You are beautiful and perfect, and everything I want and need in this world. You inspire me every single day to be better and you are so much more than you give yourself credit for.” The words fall over me leaving a searing heat in their wake, but still, I fight. “Don’t fight me, please,” Leo’s voice is broken, too – desperate, lost and beautiful. “Don’t fight me,” he repeats, holding me even tighter and his scent assaults me, the hard contours of his chest smothering my face. And now the tidal wave of emotion crests, swelling and rising until it breaks across the fragile threads of my heart and streams down my cheeks in an unending flow.
Leo lifts me in his arms and lays me across his chest on the sofa, holding me so tightly that I couldn’t lift my head even if I had the strength to try. I sob until my body is heaving - dry, retching gasps. Leo’s shirt is soaked, my face a blubbering mess, but I don’t care. I wouldn’t care if the world around us imploded - in fact, it would be a blessed relief.
When I finally struggle to a gulping stop, I am too exhausted to even raise my head. I curl into his chest, my arms clutched tightly around myself. The silence between us grows but Leo doesn’t let me go.
“I’m not in love with her, Sarah.” He sounds almost like he’s talking to himself, as if he doesn’t believe I would listen. “You are the only thing I care about.” Galvanised by my lack of response, he continues, “I should have told you. I know I should have told you, but I didn’t expect any of this. In the beginning I figured you had no right to know and by the time I realised how serious I was about you, I was afraid you’d leave me. I have no right to expect you to understand, but I’ve never betrayed you. In my heart, I’m divorced.”
“But you’re not divorced.” I draw on all of my strength to push myself up, shuffling backward until I’m sitting cross-legged, facing him. I pull one of the sofa cushions against my chest, cradling it against me like a shield.
“Not for lack of trying,” he replies. He sounds as exhausted as I feel.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time – since you found out about me working at the hospital - but I didn’t know how. Then you got so busy and I convinced myself it wasn’t the right time. In truth, I was just shit scared, so I vowed I’d tell you the second your thesis was done and not a moment later.”
“I don’t even know how I’m supposed to react,” I admit. “You’re married. Oh God, you’re married!” The revelation hits me anew and I smother my face in my hands, taking deep gasping breaths, trying not to break down again.
Leo waits for me to compose myself, his hands stroking my back as if he is comforting a child.
Eventually I force myself to continue.
“When did you last speak to her?”
“Yesterday.” I do a double-take and he hastens to explain. “She calls me every couple of days. Often I don’t even take her calls, but I can only ignore her for so long before she becomes persistent.”
“She must think there’s a chance that you’ll get back together or she wouldn’t bother, surely?”
“She thinks I’m going to g
o back to the way I was before. To the person I was before.”
“Have you ever considered that she might be right?”
“No,” he shakes his head vehemently, “she’s not.”
“How can you be so sure, Leo? You woke up one day and threw your life away on a whim. Who’s to say in a few more weeks or months that you won’t decide to go back to it?”
“I won’t. I know it’s hard for you to believe but I didn’t just decide to live a different life, I changed, Sarah, deep down in my core. I’m not the same person I was.” He sounds so certain, so assured, it’s hard not to believe him. “What’s more important,” he adds, doubt creeping back into his voice, “is whether you believe that or not. Whether you’ll stay.”
“I don’t know,” I rub my face. My eyes are burning and my cheeks are hot. “You’re asking me to take one hell of a risk. If you… if you decided differently, I don’t know if I’d recover.”
“I’m asking you to trust me, to trust how I feel about you,” he corrects when I give him an arch look.
I gaze up at him. The truth is, I do trust how he feels about me. I know that Leo is in love with me, just as I know that I feel the same. If he’s telling the truth – if it really is over between him and his wife, isn’t it the same thing as if he was legally divorced. No, a tiny voice whispers inside of me, it’s not.
“I can’t be with you if you’re married,” I say. “Whether you’re separated or not doesn’t matter. I won’t be the other woman.”
“You don’t have to be. I hired an attorney this morning. Clare can’t keep me in this marriage against my will.” He gazes down at me, a fierce look in his eyes. “Can I stay?” he asks gently, unsure what my response will be.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You should speak to Ellen.” The suggestion is so unexpected that I sit straight up, baulking at the very thought.
“There are things she can tell you that I can’t,” he offers gently. “If it’s the truth you want Ellen will give it to you. Just don’t judge me too harshly when you hear it.”
The thought of speaking to Ellen is daunting, but he’s right. It’s the only way I’ll know for sure whether Leo’s marriage is over. Ellen will tell me the truth.