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Pregnant.
My husband, holding her in his arms, her fingers clinging onto his jacket. She’d looked upset. Scared. She should be.
My eyes spring open and I stare at the door. I glance at the security monitor. I look down at my left hand, at the wedding band there on my third finger. A symbol of those vows Michael and I made to each other.
To have and to hold.
For better, for worse.
In sickness and in health.
Till death do us part…
They mean something, those vows. We said them, and we meant them. All of them.
Didn’t we, Michael…?
Chapter 2 (#u008f4f48-874c-51e9-a5b8-4601400b2caf)
I can’t get those images out of my head. His concerned expression. His finger tucked under her chin as she looked up into his eyes. I couldn’t sleep, I spent the night lying awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything I’m losing. My husband. My life. My mind…
I need to see him. Michael. I need to see him. I need to confront him once and for all; I need to do that, even though Karl – the private investigator – told me to do nothing until he’s got more information. It’s what I’m paying him for after all, isn’t it? To gather more information. To watch my husband, track his movements, because I can’t do that anymore. He told me to wait, until he has more proof. Do I need more proof? Weren’t those pictures enough?
I push open the revolving doors of the hotel I know Michael’s staying in and stride into the lobby. Why did he never go to that friend he claimed he was going to stay with? Was there ever a friend? Or was that just another lie? After all, it’s easier to bring her here, isn’t it? Easier to carry out that deception and betrayal in a place full of people who don’t know you. Who won’t judge you. How many times has he lied to my face?
How many times have I lied to his?
Despite the fact it’s only just gone 8 a.m., the reception area is busy. There seems to be a large group of people trying to check out so I hang back a little, sit down in the foyer, my gaze shifting between the front desk and the door. I have no idea if they’ll tell me Michael’s room number, but I’m his wife. I’ll make up some kind of emergency, I can lie just as well as he can. Probably even better.
My phone vibrating momentarily distracts me, and I pull it from my pocket. It’s Liam.
I glance quickly outside, and then I realize Karl is probably parked up somewhere, watching the hotel. Has he noticed me come in here? He should have done, if he’s doing his job properly. And he won’t be happy that I’ve done this, that I’ve come here, but rather than confront me himself, has he called Liam? Is he too scared to tackle the woman he can see I’ve become? Would he rather Liam come and handle this? Handle me? Is that who I am now? Something to be ‘handled’?
I ignore the call and slide the phone back into my pocket, but within seconds it vibrates again, so this time I turn it off and throw it into my bag. I don’t need the distraction. And then I hear it – his voice. Michael’s voice. Deep. Bold. Perfect diction. It carries well, my husband’s voice.
He’s at the front desk, talking to the receptionist, smiling at her the way he smiles at every woman he comes into contact with. And she’s just like all the others, sucked in by his handsome face and easy charm. And I’m tired of it, the way he flirts with them, attracting these women like some modern-day pied piper.
I get up, make my way over to him, and as he turns his head his smile evaporates.
‘What are you doing here, Ellie?’
He speaks to me like I mean nothing to him. It stings, further ripping that hole in my heart that he’s already put there.
‘I need to talk to you.’
He turns away, signs something the receptionist slides over to him, and he looks at her as he hands it back. He throws her that smile, again, but this time she doesn’t return it. She quickly glances in my direction. I’m making her uncomfortable.
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he says, slipping his newspaper into his bag before sliding it up onto his shoulder. ‘I think you should go.’
‘I’m not going anywhere, Michael. I’m quite happy to say all I have to say right here, if that’s what you’d prefer.’
The way he looks at me, it makes me feel sad and angry. Tired. Defeated. But I can’t let those feelings win out. I need the truth. I need to know how to end this.
He sighs heavily. A frustrated sigh. ‘Come to my room.’
He turns and heads towards the lifts, and I follow him, neither of us saying anything. The silence between us is almost foreboding, and I feel my heart start to pick up a faster rhythm as we approach his room. She’s obviously not with him. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been here.
He closes the door behind him, throws his bag down on the bed. He stares at me, and again I feel sadness and anger merge, I still love him so much. That’s why I’ve been driven to this, because I love him. He’s my husband … my husband.
‘What do you want, Ellie?’
I tilt my head to one side, and look at him. Right at him. I hold his gaze and he narrows his eyes, he’s confused. Good. I’m the one in control now, and I need to make sure it stays that way.
‘I want you, Michael.’
He narrows his eyes a little more, and then he breaks the stare; he laughs, turns his head away from me, runs a hand along the back of his neck. ‘Jesus Christ…’
I walk over to him, pull his hand away from his neck and I force his head around to look at me. ‘There’s nothing funny about this. I’m your wife, and that’s something you seem to be forgetting…’
His fingers grasp my wrist, so tight they dig into my skin, but I don’t even flinch.
‘You haven’t been my wife for a long time now, Ellie.’
‘And whose fault is that?’
‘I didn’t drive you to this…’
‘You helped.’
His eyes lock on mine, it’s like he’s staring into my very soul. Trying to find the woman he married. The woman he loved – no. He still loves me. Whatever he’s done, we can fix it. We can move on. We can get past this, I know we can. I wasn’t sure before, but being this close to him … I’m not willing to let him go.
I reach out with my free hand, lightly touch his mouth with my fingertips and he doesn’t stop me. He keeps his eyes on mine, and I know he feels it too. That connection, that bond between us that can’t be broken.
‘Do you still love me, Michael?’
‘Ellie, please…’
‘Do you still love me?’
‘Of course I still love you, but…’
‘Ssh.’ I shake my head, press my fingers against his mouth to silence him. ‘You still love me. I still love you. We can save this, Michael. We can save us…’
He grasps my wrist a little tighter, but still the pain means nothing. I feel nothing. ‘Ellie, you’re not well…’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You need to talk to someone. You need to go back to the counsellor…’
I wrench my arm free and step back from him. ‘All I ever wanted was to talk to you. My husband. What happened that night … we vowed we’d stick together, remember? You promised me that, you said…’
‘And I’ll never break that promise, but right now – right now, I can’t do this. You need help, Ellie.’
I walk back over to him, run my fingertips lightly over his jacket collar. ‘I don’t need help.’ I pull him gently towards me, and he doesn’t protest, doesn’t make any attempt to stop me. Because he’s weak? I think we might all be a little guilty of that. I rest my mouth against his, smiling slightly as I feel his erection nudge my thigh. ‘I just need my husband back.’
He slides a hand around on to the small of my back, lowers it to my bottom, cupping it gently as he kisses me; as he pushes me back against the wall.
Weak.
Weak.
Weak…
‘You want me because I’m not the woman you married,’ I breathe as his hand presses against my breast. ‘That’s what’s making you hard, right?’
He looks at me for a second, his eyes burning into mine, and then he steps back. It’s like he’s suddenly been yanked from a trance; like he can’t quite believe what he’s doing, and it breaks my heart. It fills me with anger. Two very different emotions clashing, fighting against each other.
‘You need to go, Ellie. Now.’
The anger’s winning. Sadness is just a waste of time, it’s sucking up the energy I need to fight this battle.
‘Because I’m not Ava?’
He takes another step back, rakes a hand through his hair as he stares at me again. ‘I’m not doing this, okay? I want you to go.’
I walk towards him. I hold his gaze, I need to stay strong. Focused. He needs to know I’m not just going to roll over and give up without fighting this.
‘What does she do to you, Michael, to make you keep running to her?’
‘You need to go.’
‘Is it the prospect of a younger body, hmm? A body that isn’t damaged, like mine? A body that isn’t scarred? Does she fuck you in ways you never dreamt of…?’
He grabs hold of my wrist again, his eyes blazing with an anger I haven’t seen in him before, but he doesn’t scare me. I don’t think anything scares me anymore. I think I passed that point a long time ago.
‘You need to leave, right now.’
What nerve have I touched? What button did I press?
He opens the door and lets go of me. He’s giving me the chance to leave without a scene – which I have every intention of doing, but this isn’t over. This is so far from over.
I reach out, cup his cheek, move my mouth so very close to his. ‘You caused this, Michael. You did this, with your reckless behaviour.’
‘I did a lot of things I’m not proud of, Ellie. Remember?’
We stare at each other for a few loaded beats, and then I step back from him. I turn and walk away. As I head towards the lift I feel that anger rising, bubbling away inside of me, threatening to explode. I need to get out of here now, I need to go to work, do something normal. If I knew what normal was anymore.
‘Ellie?’
I stop walking, and look up to see Liam standing there in reception, his hands in his pockets, his face serious. Concerned? He might be. I’m not sure, I can’t really read his expression.
‘I need to get to work…’
He grabs my hand as I pass him, swinging me around to face him. ‘What’ve you done?’
I don’t know, what I’ve done. But that anger’s filling me now, flooding my veins. I’m angry with myself, with Michael. Liam. I’m so fucking angry…
I look up into his eyes, and he gets it, he feels that anger coursing through me, burning my gut, it’s relentless. I need to channel it, rid myself of it before I go anywhere or do anything, and he knows that. Liam won’t turn me down. Liam is the weakest of them all, I know that now.
I kiss him, and he responds in a heartbeat, he always does. His fingers wind in my hair, his body hard against mine, but we can’t stay here. People are watching, we’re in too public a place…
He takes my hand and we walk briskly towards the toilets, we can’t wait. I don’t want to wait, I need him now. He’s my medicine, my fix – and this is urgent. Michael may have rejected me, but Liam would never do that.
Michael. My husband. Rejected me…
I lean back against the wall as Liam quickly checks inside, then he takes my hand again, drags me into a cubicle, kicking the door shut as he throws me back against the side of the stall. And for a beat or two we just look at each other. He smiles at me and my heart starts racing; he’s a beautiful man, Dr Liam Kennedy. But that momentary second of calm quickly dissipates. I’m here for a reason. I need to vent, I need to release that anger, let it seem like I’m making Michael pay for his deceit. His betrayal. By fucking his best friend? By taking part in my own deceit? My own betrayal? It’s so messed up, so confusing. So wrong. But we’re all in so deep now, I can’t see a way out.
I reach down to unzip him, I take him in my hand, feel his hardness grow and I ache for this release now, I need him. This man. This.
He rests a hand on my hip, swings me around, then yanks my jeans down. He nudges my legs apart with his knee, and he’s inside me before I have a chance to draw breath, his fingers sliding between mine up against the wall. He thrusts into me with an almost violent force, and I buck back just as hard, I grip him tight, I want to hurt him. That’s why he’s here, a vehicle for me to take my anger out on in the only twisted way I know how.
He lets go of my hand, reaches down, and he touches me. It’s all I can do to stop myself from crying out. And he senses that, pushes my head around slightly so my mouth catches his; so my cries seep into him.
‘Harder,’ I whisper. I need him to go deeper, it makes me feel safe. Protected. But I also need to feel pain. To know that I’m still alive and not just sleepwalking my way through the nightmare that my life has become.
He takes hold of my hand again, grips my fingers tight as he pulls out of me. Then he slams back into me with a force that pushes the breath from my body, but the pain it causes is beautiful.
Your best friend wants me, Michael.
He wants me…
It’s crazy, brutal sex. Hard and fast. Wrong. Sordid. Dirty. Sex.
He makes me come with his fingers, his body buried deep within mine as I tense up. And as my release ends, his begins. I feel him explode inside me, feel him flood me with his toxic power, and I fall back against him, his arm circling my waist, holding me. For a second we stay there, in silence, my head resting against his shoulder, his breath hot on my neck as his breathing slows down.
His fingers remain curled around mine. He’s still inside me, and for a second or two I allow calm to spread through me. I breathe in deeply and squeeze his hand before I ready myself to let go of this, to head back to reality. I have a job to do.
I needed him. He temporarily fixed me, but I’ll break again. I always do. But I know he’ll be there. To fix me…
Chapter 3 (#u008f4f48-874c-51e9-a5b8-4601400b2caf)
I don’t want Michael to know that I called Ernie. And I asked Ernie not to tell Michael I’d been in touch; asked if we could meet away from the university. I don’t want my husband to know I’ve talked to him. And Ernie’s going to ask why, of course he is. As far as I’m aware Michael hasn’t told any of his colleagues that we’re not even living in the same house anymore, that we’re barely talking. Or maybe he has, I don’t know. I’m about to find out.
I park the car and head inside the pub – one I chose because it’s a little way out of Durham. A country pub, in the true sense of the word. Cosy seating, a real fire, beams on the ceiling; it’s quaint. I’ve been here before, once, with Liam, so I’m vaguely familiar with its layout, and I scan the room as I look for Ernie. Professor Ernie Waterford, a man who isn’t just Michael’s work colleague, he’s also his friend. Our friend. He was Michael’s lecturer before he became his mentor, and he’s always been there, on the periphery of our lives. I just have no idea how much Michael’s confided in him over the past year or so, if at all. Maybe he hasn’t needed to. He’s had her, hasn’t he?
He’s sitting at a table in the corner, by the fire, which isn’t lit today because we’re heading into summer. I make my way over to him and as I approach, he stands up, holds out his arms and hugs me. The usual, familiar bear hug I always receive from Ernie.
‘Ellie, my darling, how are you?’
