by Lazeema Haq
“Oh it’s Arthur now, is it?”
“Yes, I’m calling him by his name. Last time I checked that was how people referred to each other.”
“Did you enjoy flirting and kissing Arthur?”
“He kissed my hand!” she pointed out furiously. “He was grateful that I agreed to put in a good word for him, and went a little overboard expressing his feelings. Something you do a lot of too, in case you didn’t realise.”
Even if things had been innocent on her part, he couldn’t forget how intimate they had looked during their interaction. Besides, he knew his father well and it burned him up that Vesper was defending the bastard. “You meet him once and suddenly you’re an expert on him?”
“Did I say that?”
“You didn’t have to. You’re taking his side!”
“There’s no point in talking to you when you’re being a stubborn ass.” She started walking past him and he grabbed her elbow. “Let me go!”
“Why? So you can run to my dad?”
“Fuck you! You’re acting like I cheated on you!”
“I know how much you love sob stories and Arthur is great with them. If I wasn’t here, you would have probably fucked him already.”
She slapped him across the face.
His cheek stung with the force of her hand, but what really hurt were the tears on her face. It took a lot for her to break down, especially in public, and right now she looked absolutely devastated. As she rushed back inside, he called after her and realised for the first time there was a small crowd scattered around the terrace. His friends were there as well, which wasn’t surprising, feigning disinterest even as they watched him hungrily. In his rage he’d failed to notice them and had inadvertently given them what they enjoyed the most – a good show. Fuck.
He stormed back into the restaurant to find Vesper only to catch sight of Arthur standing by the bar, a drink in his hand, pretending to be concerned. For a minute Tristan considered charging over and beating the asshole to a bloody pulp, but then Arthur pointed towards the staircase. Remembering Vesper, Tristan sped over. The door slammed behind him. He looked down from the 39th floor and caught a glimpse of her looking up at him from down below. “Vesper, wait!” She didn’t. Instead she started running and he followed suit, catching up with her a few floors down. He grabbed her from behind, picking her up, and she kicked him, screaming at him to let go. “Vesper, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!”
Her feet struck his shins, even his groin, and he doubled over with pain. When she tried to make a run for it again, he grabbed her by the waist and she punched him. For someone tiny Vesper packed a hell of a punch, but ultimately he was bigger, stronger, and with a little effort and quick thinking he had her pinned against the wall.
“Let me go, you asshole!” She struggled against him, tears streaking down her face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing himself against her after each time she tried to push him away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He cradled her face, desperately dropping kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. She didn’t relent, instead getting more violent towards him.
“Fuck you! You don’t get to call me a whore. Ever!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I fucked up.”
“I don’t care. Just let me go!”
He wouldn’t, couldn’t. He didn’t. Instead he closed his lips over hers, desperate to make her understand, kissing her. She didn’t return the kiss at first, shoving his chest to push him away, but eventually her hands wrapped around the back of his head and her fingers dug into his skull. With a fierceness that matched his own she kissed him back, biting his tongue so hard he flinched with pain. He realised she was trying to hurt him, to punish him for what he did. He didn’t care, he welcomed it. He deserved it.
Despite the pressure with which she bit his bottom lip, cutting and making him bleed as a result, he didn’t ease his grip. He didn’t let go. Instead he picked her up in his arms and she curved her legs around his waist for support. Kissing the arch of her neck, he hiked up her dress and yanked her panties down. At the same time she lowered his pants and boxers, reaching for his cock and working him with her fingers. He wanted to take his time, tell her how sorry he was again and again and how much he loved her, but she clamped her hand over his mouth when he started to speak. She wasn’t interested in what he had to say.
He penetrated her, surprised to find her wet and ready for him. Her body clung to his with equal ferocity and it was reassuring to know she wasn’t lost to him. She was here, she was still his. She loved him as much as he loved her and there was no way in hell he was going to lose her. “Vesper,” he murmured, pulling his mouth away. “Look at me.” He was desperate to see the emotions in her eyes when they were connected like this, their deep pools always reflecting the love she felt even though she couldn’t say the words. Except this time she didn’t. Keeping her eyes closed, she moaned and arched against him, tightening her grip around his shoulders.
He thrust into her, silently pleading with her to meet his gaze, but she refused and he grew frustrated and dissatisfied. Even when he came inside her and his body shook with orgasm, he was filled with an hollow emptiness at the distance between them. There was nothing intimate about this. They were just two strangers fucking; he was disgusted at himself for putting them in this situation.
As soon as he lowered her to the floor, she pushed him away, pulled up her panties and started fixing her dress. He composed his own clothing; throughout it all, her gaze never met his. “Vesper,” he said, his voice filled with helplessness when she started walking away. “Please. Can we talk?” he pleaded, reaching for her hand.
“I can’t, okay? Not right now.”
“At least let me take you home.”
She didn’t refuse but every part of him felt sick with nervousness.
After several beats of silence, she finally replied. “Fine.”
He exhaled a sigh of relief, only now realising he’d been holding his breath.
“But I want to be alone tonight,” she added.
“Okay. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No, I don’t want you in my apartment at all.”
Her walls were back up, she was lost to him, and the horrible truth finally sunk in. Once again Arthur had managed to rip away someone Tristan loved from his life.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tristan took the long route back to her apartment, reaching for her hand seconds into the ride and gripping it tightly throughout. Vesper didn’t acknowledge the gesture or his constant gaze upon her. She refused to look at him because doing so would mean confronting the fact he really didn’t trust her, and she just didn’t have the strength to cope with that information tonight. Anger and pain seared through her once again as she remembered the hurtful words he’d blurted out. How could he possibly think she was flirting with his father, that she would betray him so horribly? After everything she and Tristan had worked through, all the intimate things she’d revealed to him, the fact he was so quick to believe the worst of her broke her heart. Lily’s words echoed in her mind once again, but she gave herself a mental shake to shrug them off, refusing to let them poison her any further.
The only reason she’d kissed him in the stairwell was to remind herself the real Tristan was still in there. When he had picked her up, however, and she’d gazed into him, all she could see was the suspicious, insecure, angry man from earlier, the one Lily had warned her about. Worse yet, she couldn’t stop wondering if he was fucking her at that moment to prove she was his possession and not Arthur’s, and the thought sickened her so much she simply shut down.
Tristan pulled the car into the parking lot of her apartment building. She’d hoped he would drop her off and leave, but he obviously had o
ther plans in mind as he parked the car. She slid out, he followed suit.
The elevator ride was silent, tense. As soon as they reached her floor she sped to the apartment and was in the midst of unlocking the door when Tristan encircled her in his arms from behind, holding her with a gentleness that made her heart ache. Fuck. Why couldn’t he always be this sweet? Why did he have to let his temper get the better of him?
“I know you want to be alone tonight. I’ll leave in a sec.”
The sadness in his voice broke her heart and she found herself yearning for him. Leaning back against his chest, she closed her eyes. He tightened his grip around her, nuzzling the back of her head, and the subtle scent of his cologne filled her senses. Just for a moment, she wanted to pretend everything was fine between them, that tonight hadn’t really happened.
“I love you.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“And I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to go but–”
“Look at me, Vesper.”
As much as she longed to turn around, she was afraid. What if that horrible furious part of him resurfaced? She couldn’t bear that again. “No.”
“I know I fucked up today but can’t we just put this behind us?”
“How can you not trust me, Tristan? What did I ever do to make you think I would fuck around on you?”
“Nothing, you haven’t done anything! It’s not you, it’s him I don’t trust.”
Finally she faced him. “No, you don’t get to shift the blame on Arthur. This has nothing to do with him.”
“Are you kidding me? Don’t be so gullible. You have no idea how messed up he is.” His jaw clenched with frustration. “See, he’s already gotten us arguing!”
“Because you let him get to you. You let him come between us.” Her lips trembled. “He would never have been able to put doubts in your head about me if you really trusted me.”
“Okay, fine. This is my fault. I accept that.” He glared at her, his eyes gleaming with hostility. “But you knew I was fucked up when it came to Arthur. He’s messed me up so badly I can’t think straight around him.”
“And you think that excuses your behaviour, Tristan?”
“Maybe it doesn’t but that’s just how things are. I can’t change that.”
“Yes, you can,” she insisted, cradling his face. “Most of the time you’re amazing but when it comes to Arthur you become this completely different person. You’re irrational, angry, jealous, you… you scared me tonight.”
“Yeah well, I’m not perfect.”
She had no idea how to get through to him when he was acting this defensive. “I’m not asking for perfection.”
“Aren’t you? As long as I’m nice, you’ll stick around. Anything else is too difficult to handle, right?” he fired back. “Except you knew coming into this relationship I was fucked up. I’ve never lied about that.”
“That doesn’t mean you get a free pass on being an asshole!”
“There’s shit about you that pisses me off too.”
“Like what?” she yelled back.
“Like the fact you’re so fucking hung up on money. I can’t go where I want to go, do the things I want to because you get all weirded about who pays for what. Or that you hate every single one of my friends. Or that no matter how many times I tell you I fucking love you, you never say it back.”
His words sent her mind reeling, leaving her speechless.
“But do I ever bug you about that stuff? Do I ever make you feel like you need to change? No, because I love you! I want to be with you. None of that shit matters to me as long as we’re together.”
She was silent, unsure of what to say or even feel.
“You’re not perfect. Neither am I,” he continued. “And if you’re sticking around hoping that’ll change, it won’t.” His voice grew heavy, quiet, his expression pained as he looked away from her. “I would hate for you to waste your time on me.”
“What are you saying?”
He finally met her gaze again, his eyes revealing a coldness which hadn’t been there before. “Maybe we should just take a break or something.”
She stilled, panic forming in the pit of her stomach.
“You need time to figure out what you want.”
Before she could say anything, he turned around and started walking away.
“Tristan?”
He didn’t look back.
*****
At first Vesper told herself what happened in the hallway wasn’t a big deal, it was just another silly argument, but then she remembered this was the first time Tristan had suggested breaking up, that it used to be her who pulled that move when they first got involved. Being at the receiving end of that declaration now made her realise how intensely painful it was. She felt hopeless, miserable, drowning in fear and dread without Tristan to anchor her back to safety. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. She glanced at her phone; it had only been a few minutes since he left. He would be back soon, probably within the hour, and they would both apologize for acting stupid and move on.
Half an hour later she stepped inside the shower, phone sitting on the counter, still waiting for him to call. He didn’t. An hour later when there was still no contact, the truth of what really happened began to sink in. He really wasn’t coming back. Distraught, her eyes filled up with tears and she started crying.
In the past she would have been able to move on easily, or her pride would have prevented her from reaching out to him but things were different now. She knew what it felt like to be loved, cherished, to be with someone who filled her world with colours after a lifetime of dark despair. She couldn’t go back to that dreary existence, not when she knew how much hope the world had to offer with Tristan by her side. Without him she felt torn, empty. Why did they even have to argue about this? As long as they were together, nothing else mattered.
Picking up her cell, she dialled his number. He didn’t pick up.
After the third call, she finally left a message. “I’m sorry, Tristan,” she wept quietly. “I’m sorry about the fight, the things I said. I don’t want to hurt you, I never want to do that. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were too fucked up to be with me. I just… I’m such a mess, and maybe because I’ve always known I need to be better so I projected that on you? I don’t know…. The last thing I want is to make you think you’re not good enough because you are. You’re the best thing in my life. You’re the reason I get up with a smile in the morning, because of you I feel like I can do anything I want. You fill me with hope, Tristan, and you make me so happy. That’s never happened to me. I’ve never felt about anyone else what I feel for you. Call me, please? I just want to talk to you.”
An hour later she heard a knock on the door. Jumping out of bed, she rushed to answer it and found Tristan waiting for her on the other side, his eyes red, hair a mess, still wearing the same suit from earlier. She wanted to jump into his arms, hold him, cling to him so he would never leave again, but she simply waited with bated breath for him to say something. Anything.
“Promise me you’ll stay away from Arthur.”
A small part of her cringed. Really, Arthur? That was the first thing Tristan mentioned? But she quickly silenced the voice, telling herself to snap out of it. “I will. He’s never coming between us.”
Tristan pulled her close, crushing her against his chest so tightly she could barely breathe.
They made love, frantic and rushed and desperate, their eyes locked on each other. Not too long after that he fell asleep but she couldn’t do the same, laying wide awake next to him. In the dead of night her doubts resurfaced, growing louder and more insistent there was something deeply broken between them if Tristan couldn’t trust her, that their problems couldn’t be resolved by simply keeping her distance from Arthur. Sud
denly Tristan stirred, getting up to go the bathroom, and she closed her eyes, feigning sleep. When he returned to bed several minutes later he curled up against her and gathered her close, his lips pressing a soft kiss on her forehead so as not to wake her. She was overcome by emotion, her heart aching at how tender he could be, and for now it was enough to drown out the dissenting voices. Everything was going to work out, things would go back to normal soon. Nothing mattered, nothing, as long as they were together.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two months later
Standing in the middle of the aisle, Vesper stared up at all the pregnancy test kits in front of her. They all promised varying degrees of accuracy, leaving her unsure of which one to choose. After several minutes she finally decided on two, a cheaper brand and another more expensive, and headed to the counter. As she waited in line, her thoughts returned to the messiness of her current situation.
A while back Tristan had been frustrated with her for working as much as she did, leaving her with barely any time for him. As a result, she reduced some of her hours at the restaurant. At first it hadn’t seemed like a big deal but reduced hours meant less cash flow and she had mistakenly delayed buying a new package of birth control pills. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It hadn’t even occurred to her the reason she was feeling sick and nauseous lately was due to a possible pregnancy until she spotted a billboard ad for maternity clothing, and then she wanted to kick herself for not keeping better track of her cycle.
Later she was entering the apartment when her cell rang. It was Tristan. “Hey.”
“What did the doctor say?”
Fuck. She had lied to him about having a doctor’s appointment today after he’d been on her case about getting herself checked out, but she didn’t want to waste her money on a doctor’s appointment if there was nothing to worry about. “Nothing, really. Made me do a couple of tests.”
“That’s it?”
“He’ll know more when my results come in.”
“And when will that be?”