Page 166 of Easy
‘Definenot recently,’ I demand, pressing my hands on the table to stop me from pummelling him. ‘Last month. Last week? Yesterday?’ I yell.
My grip on my temper feels non-existent. My head swims, and my heart aches. I suddenly understand what the word turmoil means. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—would he? Not like this? Yet the pair have a history, and history is apt to repeat itself.
Dan’s eyes slide to the darkened window, and the suggestion of light from the streetlamp beyond.
‘Last year,’ he murmurs quietly. ‘In a very weak moment that I regret.’ His head turns back to me then. ‘But that was the last time.’
Unfolding his legs, he rubs a hand against his smooth cheek.
‘She was in the house on Wednesday. Uninvited,’ he adds quickly. ‘The day I came to your office.’ My heart sinks to the soles of my feet, precisely where his eyes had descended to. ‘Nothing happened,’ he repeats. ‘But it shook me up. I wanted to hurt her. I was cold and indifferent.’ His eyes rise to mine, pain shining there. ‘It seemed to have the wrong effect.’
‘But you didn’t fuck her?’
‘No. Not for the lack of trying. Hers, not mine.’
‘But you wanted to fuck her.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘I wanted to fuck her up,’ he replies, staring at his hands.
And that isn’t an answer, at least, not one with any satisfaction for either of us.
My knees suddenly give way as I sink forward, my hands against the table’s surface the only thing stopping my collapse.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
DAN
I stare at her bowed head, powerless. Is it strange that I can’t even bring myself to be angry with Belle? Not yet anyway, though it would undoubtedly come. I blame myself; how could I have been so stupid? This was exactly the sort of thing she’s capable of. I know her well enough, have known her long enough, yet I’d still managed to let her fuck up my life.
And not for the first time.
As she speaks, my attention is turned inward. Elsewhere. Cursing myself and wondering how I could make Louise believe me. She would leave me now, and there was nothing—fuck all—I could do about it. Because dominance doesn’t extend to kidnap.
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘I wasn’t,’ I admit, immediately regretting the response as Louise levels me with another evil glare.A look that I deserve. It’s the kind of look I enjoy treating as a transgression. That point, I suddenly realise, would never come now. I rub a hand through my hair, feeling wretched.
‘I’m sorry. I was too busy sitting here being shit scared. I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry, for every—’
She cuts me off again.
‘Do you want to know what I think?’ Of course, I do. And I want her to recite the alphabet in every language of the world—for her to talk forever. For her to stay and forget that this is the end. But I don’t voice those thoughts, and she doesn’t wait for my answer, anyway.
‘I think she’s a fucking cunt, and naturally, someone who’s used to getting their own way. She’s like a small, spoilt child in need of a good slap.’ Her mouth firms with distaste, her hand open in the air. ‘And you, well, you’re just the man for the job, aren’t you?’ Her tone is uncomplimentary, but no less than I deserve. ‘I expect you’ve always been that for her.’
I don’t reply. It doesn’t seem needed as she stands. I didn’t say how I longed to wrap my hands around Belle’s throat. And not in a good way. I didn’t ask what I could do to prove my fidelity.
‘But don’t flatter yourself. You’re just a toy she’s discarded.’ Her expression is more sneer than smile as she stands above me, indignation swirling about her like a cloak. ‘She doesn’t want you back, not really. She just doesn’t want anyone else playing with you. I know—at least, I can guess—I’m not the first woman since she left. But maybe I’m the first to hang around. To be invited to stay.’
Her arms fell to her sides as I stand, reaching out for her. Fists balled, she snatches them away.
‘Don’t touch me, just... don’t.’
LOUISE
I leave the room and the front door open, more due to a lack of thought than any notion of a return. The evening is warm—not warm like home could be, but I welcome the pleasant breeze on my skin.God knows I could do with cooling down.When I’d begun this thing with Dan, it had been late spring. On the verge of summer now, I’d felt myself bloom along with it. Thanks to Dan, I’d been learning how to be comfortable in my own skin. Comfortable with its welts, bites, and bruises—the badge of honour I wear but not for him.
Autumn was next on the calendar; could I bear for our relationship to grow brittle and brown along with it? Or would I end it now? Our lives parting at this spot?
