Wicked Game

by Michelle Betham

  “How far did it go, Kari? You, and Joe?”

  I trail my fork through the remainder of the food left on my plate. “Far enough.”

  Jenna frowns. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

  “What do you actually want to know, Jen?”

  I’m being defensive again, it’s like my default switch at the minute. Someone speaks to me, and I snap back at them. I’m just not in a good place right now.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you, I’m just tired. It’s been one of those days.”

  “I know. It’s fine. Do you want more wine?”

  “Just give me the bottle.” I throw her a slight smile and she laughs as she hands me what’s left of the wine. “And I don’t need the glass.”

  “I’ll go get another bottle. I’m sure there’s some Cava in the fridge. Noah had some left over from the restaurant …”

  She stops talking, and I look at her. “It’s okay to mention him, Jen. It’s okay to talk about him, he’s your friend, and he doesn’t have to stop being that just because we’re not together anymore.”

  “It just feels … wrong. You and Noah, you belong together.”

  “Well, evidently, we don’t.”

  She sits back down, and she looks more defeated than I feel. “What made him do it, Kari? What made him want someone else when you guys were so happy?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t answer that.”

  “Have you asked him?”

  I shake my head. “I’m scared to. Because something must’ve been wrong. Something obviously wasn’t right, I thought we were happy.”

  The doorbell ringing cuts that conversation dead, and I don’t know whether I’m relieved, or angry that I finally had a chance to get this all off my chest only to be interrupted.

  “I’ll go see who it is,” Jenna sighs, and as she heads out into the hall I cross my legs up underneath myself and stare at the TV. I don’t even know what we’ve been watching, I guess my mind was on other things.

  “Hey.”

  My head spins around, it’s Noah.

  “Where’s Jen?”

  “She’s gone out. Just for a bit.”

  “Did you tell her to go?”

  “No, Kari, I didn’t. It was her decision to leave us alone. I just needed to see you.”

  “What about the restaurant?”

  He sits down on the chair Jenna vacated just a minute or so earlier. “It’s a Wednesday evening. We’re not fully booked, Jack can deal with the amount of covers we have tonight. This is more important. We’re more important.”

  I look at him, and again all I feel is empty. “You shouldn’t let this affect the restaurant.”

  “It isn’t affecting the restaurant, Kari, did you not hear what I just said?”

  I let a beat or two go by before I say anything else. I don’t want to say anything at all, but I know he’s right. We do have to talk. “What do you want to know, exactly?”

  “How long before you looked him up? How long after I left?”

  “A few days. And he found me. I had no intention of looking for him. I was about to leave for Germany, but then … then he found me.”

  Noah’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t question that. And I don’t elaborate on the details, because I don’t completely understand them myself. Joe Millar is a complicated but powerful man, that’s all I know for sure.

  “How many times?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  “I’m sorry …?”

  “How many times did he fuck you?”

  “You don’t need to know …”

  “How many times, Kari?”

  “I don’t know! Jesus, Noah, what is this? This isn’t talking …”

  “Do you have feelings for him?”

  “Noah, please … I already told you I felt something for him …”

  “What? What did – do you feel for him, Kari?”

  I feel sick. None of this should be happening, it’s not right. “I don’t know.”

  And that’s the truth. That’s all I can tell him, because I don’t know what I feel for Joe. I don’t know what it is – what it was.

  Noah drops his head, clasps his hands together, he’s wringing them so tight it’s making me nervous. “I knew it was a risk …”

  He mutters the words to himself, he doesn’t direct anything at me, he just keeps wringing his hands, keeps his head down, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where this is going, what good it’s doing.

  “Do you love him?”

  He slowly raises his gaze, and when I look at him that gut-wrenching sadness returns with a vengeance. “I … No. I don’t – I don’t love him.” I don’t. I can’t, I still love Noah. But sitting here, with the man I once thought I’d grow old with, the man I thought I would love forever, it’s breaking my heart.

  He drops his head again, drags his hands back and forth through his hair. “What did we do?”

  We did too much.

  We pushed things too far.

  We killed us.

  “I still love you, Kari. I love you, so much …”

  “I love you, too.” I’m not sure I meant to say the words out loud. I don’t think I did, but it’s true. We do still love each other, yet, we’re here, in this dark and lonely place. We’ve never been so far apart, never felt so alone.

  “Then let’s fight harder,” he says, and he looks at me with an expression full of so much hope, it once more tears at my already shattered soul.

  “I can’t, Noah,” I whisper.

  I can’t. Or I don’t want to? I love him, but I don’t think I can be with him anymore. I don’t think it would be good for either of us. I don’t think we can be fixed.

  We stay silent for a good few beats, our eyes locked, and the pain I feel is very, very real. I can’t get past what he did; what I’ve done. It’s always going to be there now, this thing between us that will never go away, never be forgotten. It’ll never let us go. Never allow us to be free from those memories.

  “When he fucked you, Kari, were you alone?”

  I don’t want him to ask these questions, I don’t think it’s helping. “Noah, don’t …”

  “Were you alone?”

  I drop my gaze, close my eyes; I breathe in deep and exhale slowly. “Sometimes.”

  “Jesus …”

  I look up as he stands up, starts pacing the floor, his hand once more raking back and forth through his hair.

  “Who was she, Noah?”

  He stops pacing. He looks at me, and he frowns. “You said you didn’t want to know who she was?”

  “I didn’t want to know a lot of things, but suddenly my choices have become more limited. Who was she?”

  He leans back against the wall, turning his head to look out of the window, over the road to our home. What used to be our home, I don’t live there anymore. I’ve rented a first-floor apartment a few streets away with sea views and a small balcony that looks out over the beach. How long I stay there, I haven’t worked that out yet. I don’t know anything for sure anymore.

  “She was no one, Kari.”

  “I don’t believe you. I don’t think you put your marriage in jeopardy for no one, I think she was more than that.”

  He turns his head to look at me, but I can’t read his expression. I can’t see anything in his eyes, and I swallow hard. “She was no one, Kari,” he repeats, his voice verging on monotone. Robotic, almost.

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “I don’t think this is helping …”

  “Nothing’s going to help, Noah.”

  He keeps his eyes locked on mine, but he lets a few beats pass before he speaks. “I met her in Albie’s. When I was over in Norway, a few months back.”

  Without me. I was here, alone, missing him, with no idea that he was about to put our entire marriage at risk.

  “I hadn’t caught up with him in a while, hadn’t been to his restaurant since he’d
got his new business partner, and seeing as I was in Bergen for a few days …”

  He trails off, drops his gaze, rubs the back of his neck, and I can see his shoulders stiffen.

  “She was Albie’s new business partner, huh?”

  He keeps his head down for a second or two longer before he raises it. Before his eyes once more lock on mine. He nods, and I take another deep breath, even though it hurts, to breathe.

  “We all had dinner, stayed back after closing, shared a few bottles of wine …”

  I break the gaze, turn my head away, I don’t know how much more I want to hear. What we’ve put ourselves through, it’s crazy and sad and I can’t believe this is what we’ve done to each other.

  “I was drunk, Kari. So was she.”

  I throw my head back and laugh, is he seriously using that excuse?

  “It was one, stupid mistake.”

  “So why make another one, Noah? What you did – what you got us to do … If she was nothing more than one, stupid mistake why do all of that? Why put us through all of that?”

  “I couldn’t live with the guilt.”

  “I’d rather you’d tried, rather you’d tortured yourself just a little while longer. I’d rather you’d just told me what you’d done instead of …”

  It’s my turn to trail off. My turn to feel guilt flood my veins.

  “You brought him into our lives, Noah.”

  “I’m so sorry, Kari.”

  I get up, go over to him, and I want to reach out and hold him, I want that so bad it physically hurts. But if I do that … I can’t, do that.

  “So am I,” I whisper. “Sorry that that one stupid mistake had to escalate. Had to turn into this, because one stupid mistake needn’t have ended us. But this – all of this … that has.”

  “No, Kari …”

  This isn’t going to work. None of it is going to work. Me, being here, it can’t carry on. I have to go, I have to get away from here, I have to start again, and I don’t want to. I want my old life back, but that’s gone now. Nothing can ever be the same again, and wishing for the past, all that’s doing is dragging me down. We could pretend, we could try and forget what happened, but I don’t think either of us will be able to live with the things we did. I know I can’t.

  “We’d blame each other, Noah. Throw everything back in each other’s faces at the first sign of an argument. We won’t ever be free of what happened, it will eventually tear us apart, and I don’t think I can do this a second time.”

  He throws back his head, and pain rips through my heart, I don’t want this to be happening, I don’t. And then he sinks to his haunches, drops his head, and I crouch down in front of him. I ignore those voices in my head telling me to leave him alone, and I take his hands in mine. I squeeze them tight, I rest my forehead against his and we cry, for everything we’ve thrown away. Everything we could’ve been.

  We say goodbye.

  It’s over.

  Time to walk away.

  Time to start again … a whole new life?

  Or one I’d already begun …?

  Twenty-Six

  Five Months Later …

  It doesn’t feel like five months ago, when my life finally fell apart. When I lost my husband, walked away from a life I’d loved but couldn’t live anymore. It doesn’t feel like time moved on that quickly, but it has. Losing Noah was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through, and there are still days when I wake up and wonder if we did the right thing. Maybe we should’ve fought harder, tried harder, but deep down we both knew it could never have worked.

  The final divorce papers came through a couple of weeks ago. A quick, clean severing of a marriage I’d thought was forever, and despite the sadness, I looked upon that day as the day I finally gave myself permission to let go. To move forward. It’s been long enough now. I have to move on, I have no choice.

  There’s always a choice, remember?

  No. Not this time …

  Tucking my passport back into my bag I hurry through baggage reclaim, wheeling my carry-on case behind me. I’m tired and hungry and I just want to be home now, but I still have the drive back to contend with.

  Finally exiting the airport terminal, I take a second to breathe in some fresh air after hours of sitting on a plane, but I’d needed that short break. And it was nice, to spend some time with Jenna. The divorce hit her hard as well, she feels like she’s losing me, but that isn’t the case. Yes, I had to move away. I had to leave the business behind, I couldn’t stay there. It was too close. I’m weak, I can’t be where Noah is, even now – especially now – I’m not strong enough to cope with that. But Jen’s still my best friend, that will never change, if anything I need her more than I’ve ever done before. There’s just a little more distance between us now, that’s all.

  I’m back in Stavanger. Back in that beautiful little white-board house with the hanging baskets and the colourful pots outside the front door, and that may seem like a strange choice, me, choosing to settle in the country where my husband – ex-husband – was brought up. Where his family still live, although, Astrid and Nils have relocated to Bergen now, to be closer to Henrik and Nora. They’re not here, in Stavanger, anymore. I am, because I love this country. I love this place. I feel safe here. I’m learning the language and I’m making new friends, thanks to my job at a gorgeous little café on the waterfront. I’m throwing myself into something different, because I think that’s what I need.

  Pulling my coat around me and wrapping my scarf tighter around my neck, I look up at the sky. It’s a beautiful clear blue, there’s barely a cloud up there, but it’s cold now. We’re heading towards Christmas, and I feel a tiny pang of sadness hit me as I realise it’ll be my first Christmas alone. Without Noah. Without Jenna and Leo, even though they invited me to come over and stay with them for the holidays, but I can’t do that. I can’t go, because Noah will be there. And I guess I’m still not at the stage where being just friends is something I can deal with right now. It’s still too soon. I have friends here in Norway I can spend time with, I won’t be completely alone. A different kind of Christmas, that’s all it’s going to be.

  Fishing in my pocket for my car keys, I try to remember which section of the car park I’d left the car in, so my head’s down as I start walking away from the terminal building. And as I walk, I’m also trying to remember exactly what it is I need to buy – food wise – on the way home. My fridge needs restocking, I know that much. I definitely need the basics – almond milk, bread and cheese; something quick and easy for dinner tonight, I’m not really in the mood to cook anything too elaborate. It kind of gets that way when you’re cooking for one. I’m running through that shopping list in my head as I walk, wheeling my case behind me, my head still down, when I hear it. Feel it. The moment time stands still; a voice that interrupts my concentration. A different accent, that distinctive tone – his laugh, loud and deep, there’s no mistaking who it is.

  I stand still, glance over my shoulder, back towards the terminal building, and the second I see him I know I should carry on walking. I left him behind, and I was fine.

  I was?

  Really?

  I made the right choice. I’m moving on, making a new life for myself.

  In a place I knew he still might be?

  Gripping the handle of my carry-on case that little bit tighter, I start walking again. I don’t want him to see me, that isn’t a good idea. But it’s like I’m not in control of my actions; it’s like history’s repeating itself all over again, where this man is concerned – the power he has over me, even now, it hasn’t gone away.

  Fate …

  Do I believe in fate?

  Do I …?

  I stop, turn around, and he’s still outside the terminal building. He has luggage with him, as do the people he appears to be with – two men and a woman. And it doesn’t look like it’s just carry-on luggage, either, there’s too much of it for that.

  What does it matter?

>   He’s nothing to me now.

  He was nothing to me then …

  He’s wearing a long dark coat, a navy-blue scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, and the beard is back. He’s smiling as he talks, his arms gesticulating wildly around him in that familiar way of his as those with him start laughing at whatever it is he’s telling them. Joe Millar. Enigmatic. Charismatic. Deeply dangerous. Every reason why I should forget this, and walk away, and while the bigger part of me wants to do that, there’s another part of me that won’t let me. The part that’s keeping my feet rooted firmly to the spot.

  I drop my gaze and stare down at the ground, I think it might be starting to snow. The concrete is fast becoming dotted with wet, white flakes, snow that seems to have come from out of nowhere. The sky was clear just a few minutes ago, there was no hint of the weather turning this quickly, so, I should really start driving home as soon as possible, just in case this snow turns heavier. But before I leave, I take one more look in Joe’s direction.

  My first mistake.

  At the very moment I look over, he catches sight of me. And he doesn’t know if it’s me, not straightaway, but he doesn’t shift his gaze. I don’t shift mine. I can’t, not now. And I watch as he says something to the group of people he’s with. Watch as they head inside the building, but he stays where he is. I don’t move either. I don’t know if I want to, but I should go. For a million different reasons, I should go.

  And one reason why I shouldn’t.

  Fate …

  Do I really believe in it?

  I shake my head, I don’t want this. I can’t see him, I can’t go back there, but I can’t look away. And he knows, now. He knows, it’s me.

  Walk away.

  I can do this.

  I can’t …

  What’s stopping me?

  I know what’s stopping me.

  Me. I’m stopping me …

  My second mistake.

  He starts walking towards me, and I panic. I don’t know what to do, do I walk away? Or walk towards him? By the time I’ve gone over every dilemma in my head, it’s too late. He’s here, in front of me, the smell of his cologne filling the air, his dark blue eyes staring at me. And every memory of him I’ve tried to push to the back of my mind floods forward.