Wicked Game

by Michelle Betham

  Noah looks at me, and his expression is weary. He’s tired. The worry of his father, us, and now this … part of me feels guilty, but I can’t keep it from him. I can’t not tell him.

  “Where?” he asks, his eyes searching my face.

  “The harbour.”

  He remains silent, but his eyes never leave mine. “Did anything happen?”

  I shake my head, drop my gaze, and I feel guilty for something I never did.

  Because it was everything I wanted?

  “A chance meeting, huh? You, and Joe Millar?”

  I look up, and his expression feels slightly accusatory. “You think I planned this? We planned this? If that was the case, why the hell would I tell you?”

  “I don’t know, Kari. I don’t know why he won’t leave us alone, won’t leave you alone, and you fucked him once, remember?”

  “You were there, Noah.”

  His eyes bore into mine. “And then you fucked him again. When I wasn’t.”

  I stare at him, and once more I feel my heart – and my world – continue to fall apart around me. “You said we could control it,” I whisper. “You said that, but we couldn’t, could we? We couldn’t control it, and we didn’t even think that could happen, that we could completely lose control of a situation, that we’d be torn apart by something like that. We made a mistake, Noah, one I’m not sure we can rectify now.”

  He turns away from me, drags a hand back through his hair, and I can see his shoulders tense up, hear him sigh, and I just feel numb.

  “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Kari.”

  He turns back to face me, and the look in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. It snatches the breath from my body and yet, it’s accompanied by a sense of relief I can’t even come close to explaining.

  “I can’t keep hoping this is the end, that he’s finally gone for good, because he never will be. Will he? Not if we carry on like this, because this isn’t working.”

  I don’t know what to say. We caused this, we did this, we killed our marriage. We’re both to blame, even though our reasons are different.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and the pain in my heart is suffocating, I can’t breathe it hurts so much. “I never wanted this to happen, Kari.”

  I shake my head, and I think we both knew this was inevitable, but hearing the words – feeling the end come hurtling towards me, like this, it’s overwhelming. Noah was the love of my life, my soul-mate – a man who cheated on me. His actions led us to this, but I can’t blame him for everything. He might have brought Joe to our door, but I was the one who let him in. We’re both to blame.

  “I’m sorry too, Noah.”

  We look at each other, and the pain in my chest is almost unbearable, it’s like my heart is physically breaking. I thought we were forever, I wanted us to be forever, we shouldn’t be here.

  “You need to go to him, Kari.”

  I frown, and I shake my head again, I don’t want to hear him say that. Why is he saying that?

  “He won the fight, but he hasn’t won the battle. Not yet.”

  I’m confused, I don’t know what he’s talking about, it makes no sense. “Nobody won, Noah. We all lost. All of us. It’s a mess we can’t fix …”

  “Maybe we can. If you go to him. Fuck him out of your system, and then come back to me.”

  I stare at him, my breath catching in my throat, does he even know what he’s saying?

  “No … Jesus, no! For Christ’s sake, Noah …?”

  “It’s the only way, Kari.”

  I narrow my eyes, watch his expression remain stoic, he’s serious. “No …”

  He comes over to me, takes my hand in his and he squeezes it tight; he leans in to me and he kisses me, and I fall back against the wall, my head’s spinning.

  “Fuck him out of your system, Kari. Give him what he wants, take what you need, and then come back to me.”

  “I can’t …” I whisper, and tears are streaming down my face now, I can barely see him my vision is so clouded. “You don’t know what you’re saying …”

  “I know exactly what I’m saying.”

  He gently wipes my tears away, leans in to kiss my cheek, and I cling onto his T-shirt. I scrunch the material between my fingers and I clutch it tight, I can’t bear to let him go.

  “You think about him, don’t you?” he murmurs, his breath warm on my skin, and I nod.

  No more lies. No more secrets.

  “Then fuck him out of your system. Please, baby, just do this. For us …”

  I push him away, I can’t listen to this. “Jesus, Noah, this is the kind of shit that got us into this mess in the first place, do you even know what you’re telling me to do? Do you understand, what you’re telling me to do? You’re giving me permission to sleep with another man.”

  “I brought him into our lives, Kari. Now I want him gone, and if this is the only way to make sure that happens …”

  “It’s … it’s not right. It’s crazy, it’s fucking wrong. It’s wrong …”

  “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Then stop telling me to have an affair! Stop giving me permission, stop doing that. Let’s fight harder …”

  “We can’t. Kari, we’ve tried.”

  “You’re just giving up?”

  “I think we’ve both already done that. Don’t you? We just couldn’t bring ourselves to say the words. But now – now, maybe, we actually can fix this.”

  I turn away from him, grasp the edge of the dressing table, this isn’t happening. I drop my head and close my eyes and I try to breathe, but every breath I take hurts.

  “Give him what he wants. Take what you need. And then come back to me.”

  I spin around, I look at him, and I want him to stop talking, stop saying what he keeps repeating, I can’t listen to it anymore.

  “Do you love me, Kari?”

  “I never stopped.”

  “Then fuck him out of your system. That’s all you need to do.”

  “No,” I cry, shaking my head, I still can’t believe we’ve come to this. “Noah, I can’t …”

  “Then look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want him. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want him to touch you, kiss you; you don’t want to touch him. Tell me that, and mean it, and we’re okay.”

  More tears stream down my face, and as I look at him we know – we both know. “I can’t, Noah … I can’t …”

  “Do you want him, Kari?”

  I nod, because it’s true. I want Joe Millar, but I was willing to walk away from those feelings because they’re dangerous. They’re wrong. And now my husband’s pushing me towards them? Towards a man I don’t trust? A man I want in the worst way.

  “Then go to him.”

  I sink to the floor, drop my head into my hands, and I try to believe this is just some crazy dream. A nightmare brought on by the state of our marriage; by the things we’ve done.

  “Is this because you still feel guilty?”

  “No.”

  “Then, why? I mean …?”

  “Don’t think the thought of him touching you won’t kill me, because it will. Knowing what he’s going to do, how it might make you feel, that fucking hurts, Kari, but I am willing to put myself through that – through all of that, if it means we can get through this.”

  He sits down next to me, and I reach for his hand, his fingers curling around mine. “What if it backfires? What if this stupid, crazy plan doesn’t work …? I can’t believe I’m even talking about it. I can’t believe we’re even considering this … Noah, this isn’t right.”

  He looks into my eyes, letting a few beats pass before he says anything. “I know.”

  “Then why even suggest it?”

  He lowers his head, his hand still holding onto mine. “Don’t fall in love with him, Kari.”

  His words slam into me, I have no idea what made him say that.

  “I wish I didn’t feel anything for him, I really do, I wish I f
elt nothing, but … love doesn’t even come into it. Whatever I feel for Joe, it has nothing to do with love.”

  “What if he falls in love with you?”

  I grip his hand tighter, close my eyes and drop my head. Joe told me he was falling in love with me, but I don’t think he means it. I think he’s just letting all of this get to him, it’s making us feel things that aren’t really there. We’re too messed up to think clearly.

  “It’s a risk. Feelings might develop, Kari, you can’t pretend they won’t.”

  I open my eyes and look down at our joined hands. And then I watch as he pulls his free, stares out ahead of him, and I feel another kick to my solar plexus.

  “Go to him.”

  He doesn’t look at me when he says that, and then he pulls himself to his feet and walks out. Just like that. He leaves me alone, and I’m too numb to do anything.

  He wants me to go to Joe.

  He wants me to sleep with Joe because he thinks it could save us.

  He’s telling me to have an affair for the sake of our marriage, and that isn’t right, I love him.

  I love my husband.

  But I want Joe Millar.

  I want Joe Millar …

  Twenty-One

  Noah’s home now. Back in the UK, he has a business to run. The restaurant needs him, and his dad’s okay now, he’s fine, so, Noah’s gone home. I have a business to run, too, but I can’t face going home just yet. I can’t be that close to Noah, everything’s too messed up right now.

  “I can look after things here, Kari, that’s not a problem. I just wish you’d tell me what’s going on, that’s all.”

  I feel bad, lying to Jenna again. I’ve already told her too many lies, I didn’t want to add any more, but it’s the way things have to be. And she isn’t the only one we’re keeping in the dark. We’ve continued to lie to Noah’s family. They still know nothing of the trouble our marriage is in. They know nothing of the mess we’ve made. The mistakes. The betrayal. And we’ll hide it from them – from everybody – for as long as we can. There’s no need for anyone to know anything yet. So, we’ll keep telling those lies, because nobody else could possibly understand what we’re doing here. But the biggest lie of all? That’s the one we’re telling ourselves – that we think any of this could help us. It can’t.

  “I just needed some time alone, Jen. You know – you know what Noah and I have put ourselves through, we lost control of a situation and … we just need some time apart, that’s all.”

  “That’s all? I thought you guys were working through all this? I thought you were going to take a holiday, try and fix things, not make it all worse. Come on, Kari. What’s really going on?”

  “Nothing. We just – we realised it wasn’t working the way things were. Taking some time out, apart, might help, you know?”

  “Might?”

  I don’t respond to that.

  “And why are you still over there? Why not come back home? If you really need some time apart you could come stay with me and Leo for a while.”

  “You live over the road, Jen.”

  “Time and space, huh?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  I hear her sigh heavily, and I know she’s frustrated with me. With us – me and Noah. But I really can’t tell her any more. I can’t. She wouldn’t understand. What she already knows, she’s still getting her head around that, so telling her this – no. I can’t.

  “And I’m staying in Norway because I like it here.”

  Because I feel closer to Noah, here. Because I need to feel like he’s still around, that a part of him is still connected to me, should I choose to act upon his demand – that I sleep with Joe Millar; fuck him out of my system. Because, so far, I’ve made no attempt to contact him.

  “I’ve rented this gorgeous little white wooden house in the old part of Stavanger …”

  “Do Noah’s family know you’re still over there?”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “Doesn’t Astrid live in Stavanger?”

  “Her and Nils are spending a few months in Bergen, to help her mum out with Henrik … Jenna, I’m okay.”

  “Are you?”

  “I’m fine. And I can still work from here, can’t I? I’ve got my laptop, I can pick up the slack on some of the admin for you guys.”

  “That’d be a help, I can’t lie. Look, Kari …”

  “Just, make sure he’s all right, Jen. Please? Keep an eye on him.”

  Another sigh down the line, but a less frustrated one this time. “Okay. But I’m gonna keep calling you, don’t think I’m leaving you alone.”

  I’d rather she didn’t call too often, but if I tell her to leave me alone she’ll only grow suspicious. I know my friend. And I know she can already tell I’m not being completely honest with her, but she’s choosing not to push it, this time. How long that’s going to last, I don’t know.

  “I’d better go,” she says, and I find myself breathing a sigh of relief. “I’ll talk to you soon. You take care, and sort yourself out, for Christ’s sake. The pair of you.”

  She ends the call and I throw down the phone, fall back onto the bed and drag my hands through my hair. It’s my turn to let out a frustrated sigh as I stare up at the ceiling, and then, as I’ve done every morning since Noah left me, I think about Joe. I close my eyes and imagine he’s here, his fingers stroking my skin, his lips brushing the side of my neck, and I drop my hand. I touch myself, because thinking about him makes me need to do that. I throw back my head and groan quietly as I slip my fingers inside myself and pretend it’s him. It’s Joe. I touch myself, and I cry out his name and immediately feel guilty. But I still do this, every morning, in the vain hope that thinking about him, like this, is enough. It isn’t.

  Slipping out of bed I pull on a shirt to cover my nakedness. One of Noah’s shirts. I kept it back, I need something of him here, I need to feel him next to me, he’s my husband. I love him. I don’t love Joe, I just want him like the worst kind of drug. And that’s why I’m trying to go cold turkey. But I know it won’t work, because the temptation is still right here, I’m still too close, because I’m assuming Joe’s still in Norway. Which means I really shouldn’t be.

  Looking out of the small upstairs bedroom window I stare down at the cobbled street below, the old-fashioned lamppost on the corner casting its shadow across the road. It’s so beautiful and tranquil here, I don’t really want to leave. But I should. There are so many more places I could go where Joe Millar won’t be, I should choose one. And go there.

  Reaching for my phone I check to see if there are any messages. There aren’t. But I shouldn’t expect any contact from Noah, he made it clear that he only wants to see me when this is done. When I’m finally rid of Joe. And I can’t blame him for that, but I still can’t get the thought out of my head that it’s his fault all of this happened, that it spiralled into something it need never have been, or am I just trying to convince myself that’s the case to rid myself of any guilt I’m going to feel, if I weaken? If I try to contact Joe? If I sleep with Joe …?

  Closing my eyes, I turn away from the window and head downstairs. I’ll make some coffee, eat some breakfast; do some work. I’ll start looking for somewhere else to go, some place Joe Millar isn’t …

  *

  Am I stalking her? That’s not how I’d like it to come across, but, yeah. I guess I am. Because I need to keep her in my sights. I need to know where she is, and I know she’s in Stavanger now. I know that Noah has gone back home, what I don’t know is why. But the fact she’s still here and he’s back in the UK tells me something. They’re not together. She’s alone. And I’m in Stavanger, too, because I need to be where she is.

  As each day passes, I want Kari Ostberg more.

  I’m closer than ever to getting her. To having the one thing that’s going to make everything I’ve been through worthwhile. All the pain. All the pretending. All the shit that should never have happened, she’s going to ease all of that
, she’ll make it better.

  She’s my goal.

  My prize.

  One I never thought I wanted to win …

  *

  It’s a beautiful day as I walk along Solastranden beach. The sun’s warming the back of my neck, it’s peaceful; the solitude is welcoming, and I feel strangely calm, considering the turmoil going on in my head.

  Shielding my eyes from the sun I look out ahead of me, into the distance. I’m trying to clear my head, that’s why I came here, but I can’t. It’s too full of him. What we did.

  What I still want?

  It happened here, in Stavanger. The night Joe first touched me, and I lost control of my life. It happened here, and those memories, they’re stronger than ever, that’s why I need to leave now. Staying here wasn’t a wise decision.

  I should have gone back home with Noah.

  I should never have agreed to this crazy, reckless plan.

  There are a lot of things I should never have done …

  Turning around, I start to walk back along the almost deserted beach. There’s a slight breeze blowing but it’s a warm one, and I tip my head back slightly and let the sun hit my face; I breathe in the sea air. I let the peace and the solitude wrap itself around me and I forget that I came here for a reason. I just wanted to remember, one last time, before I head to Germany.

  I’m going to spend a few days in Frankfurt. I have a friend over there who’s more than happy for me to stay with her for a while, we haven’t seen each other in years. She teaches English in one of the city’s International Schools, and I can’t remember the last time we spoke at any great length, it’s been nothing more than snatched social media messages for far too long now. I’m quite looking forward to spending some time with her during her summer break. It’s everything I need to take my mind off Joe. Everything I need to forget him.

  Because I can forget him.

  I can.

  I just need to try harder.

  Sitting down amongst the dunes I pull out my phone and text Ellen, just to let her know I’ll be booking my flight soon and I’ll update her with more details when I’ve finalised that. But once that’s done, I keep hold of my phone. And instead of trawling sites for the best priced flights to Frankfurt, I type in his name. It’s almost like someone else is working my fingers and I can’t control what they’re writing, and as I stare at the screen a string of information and images connected to Joe Millar appear. Most of the links are to do with Millar Readman, his company, but there are also links to his social media, and for a second or two my finger hovers over the link to his personal Facebook Page, but I don’t click on it. I’m not going there, not starting that, I’m moving away from him now. But I can’t stop myself from clicking on the various images of him. Scores and scores of them, from years ago and recent times, I scan them all. Even as a younger man he had that edge, that air about him that, even in photographs, seems to draw you in. He was beautiful, when he was younger, and age hasn’t changed that. The lines on his face now only serve to accentuate how attractive he really is, with a smile that hits my heart like a punch to the chest. I hate what I feel for this man; hate that I can’t control it. I hate that I’m weak, that I’ve let him do this to me. I hate that I still want him.