Читать книгу The Wife – Part Three: In Sickness and In Health - ML Roberts - Страница 7

I don’t know why we’re here. I don’t want to be here. I didn’t want this party, neither did Michael, not really. He’s just trying to get things back to normal. Trying to get us back to normal. I think he’s wasting his time.

Four months ago, something devastating happened.

I lost our baby.

Four months ago, I was also told I would never have another one.

Four months ago, our lives, our whole fucking world, it changed. Forever. And I can’t deal with it.

‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Ellie?’

I look at my husband. Renowned English Literature lecturer. Handsome. Popular. Everyone loves Professor Michael Travers, including those who have no right to.

I drain my glass of whisky, my eyes never leaving his. ‘I’m not even close.’

‘Jesus Christ …’

‘Denial is your way of dealing with things, Michael. Drink is mine.’

‘I’m not talking to you in this state.’

‘You don’t talk to me in any state, do you? You don’t even touch me … when was the last time we had sex? Hmm? When was the last time you made me feel anything?’

He moves a little closer, his eyes blazing, his voice so low it’s almost a hiss. I’m pushing him. Fine. That’s good. He needs pushing. ‘I’m not doing this here, Ellie. Pull yourself together, for goodness’ sake.’ He leans in even closer, his mouth almost touching my ear as he speaks. ‘Let’s just move on, okay?’

He backs off, turns around and walks away, back to the party. Our anniversary party. Fourteen years we’ve been married. Fourteen wonderful, happy years. Ellie and Michael – the perfect couple. Even tragedy couldn’t tear us apart, at least, that’s what everyone thinks, thanks to Michael’s desperate need to paper over the cracks of a marriage that’s breaking. Cracks that are growing bigger by the day.

I pour myself another drink, swallow the whisky down in one; I can feel it burn my throat, settle in my belly. But it’s going down like water as I’m feeling no effects, I’m not even remotely drunk. I wanted the edge taken off. This hasn’t even clipped it.

‘Hey.’

Liam’s hand lightly brushes the small of my back as he joins me at the counter in the kitchen. I look up at him. ‘Hey.’

He grabs a beer from the fridge and leans back against it, looking out ahead of him. ‘It was nice of Ed and Claire, to organize this party.’

‘Yes. It was.’

I drop my gaze, stare down into my empty glass.

‘Not in the party mood though, huh?’

I throw him a small smile. ‘People just want me and Michael to get back to the way we were.’ I shrug. ‘They want us to be happy.’

‘Are you? Happy?’

I hold his gaze, he knows the answer to that. He doesn’t have to ask that question. ‘Are you?’

He comes over to me. He returns his hand to the small of my back, and leans in so close to me I feel his breath on my neck. ‘I could be happier.’

I watch him walk away. Dr Liam Kennedy. Tall, handsome, my husband’s best friend. My best friend.

Grabbing what’s left of the bottle of whisky, I slip outside into Ed and Claire’s garden. It’s quieter out here, bar one or two smokers over on the terrace. I just need some air, to escape the pretence for a few minutes.

Sitting down on the edge of the decking, I wrap my fingers tight around the neck of the bottle, but I resist taking another drink. Now the fresh air’s hit me my head’s spinning slightly. Maybe Michael’s right. Maybe I have had enough. For now.

I throw back my head and breathe in deeply – once, twice, each time exhaling slowly. I try to do this sometimes, these breathing exercises, to try and control the panic that often builds up inside of me. Because of what happened that night. But those exercises don’t always work. That night affected me too much, damaged me too much. The bruises may have healed, but the emotional pain is still raw. Every time I close my eyes I can still feel the punches and the kicks, I can still see her face …

I pull myself to my feet and head back inside. Michael’s talking to a group of his friends from the squash club, but he glances over – a glance so brief I almost miss it. He’s making sure I’m okay, that’s all. He needs me to be okay.

‘Ellie, come and tell us all about the new spa you’re planning to open.’

Claire’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I look at her, forcing a smile onto my face. Talking about work is always a welcome distraction, so I start to tell my friends about my new business venture, losing myself in talk of facials and massages as I try to pretend everything is normal. It’s only when I glance up and see Liam watching me from across the room, when he smiles at me and I feel something burn up inside of me, that I know nothing’s normal. I don’t think it ever will be again.

I leave my friends chatting happily about the prospect of a free spa day that I have just mentioned, and I go back into the kitchen. A small glass of wine isn’t going to hurt. My head feels clearer now I’ve come back indoors.

Sipping my wine, I stand against the archway that separates the kitchen from the family area of Claire and Ed’s spacious open-plan living space. Perfect for parties. Even those I don’t want to be a part of. I used to love parties. I loved being around people, but now I find their pity and their questions too much. And yet, being alone scares me. I don’t like my own company for too long. I’ve never felt vulnerable before, but I do now. And I hate that feeling.

I look around; I’m searching for Michael but I can’t see him anywhere. Maybe he’s gone outside, I don’t know. I’m not even sure I care. I’m so tense tonight, I’m finding it harder than usual to keep this charade going. So, when Liam’s eyes meet mine once more from across the room, I allow myself a smile – a smile he returns. I know Liam well. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known Michael, but Michael doesn’t know that. We never told him that we knew each other before. That we’d slept together before, a long time ago. Liam didn’t think it was important that Michael knew, he didn’t think it mattered. But now that Liam is suddenly such a big part of my life, in a way I never expected he would be – does it matter?

I look away and take another sip of wine. For some reason there’s a knot of excitement unravelling in my stomach now. One that seems to unravel much faster as I catch sight of Liam laughing at something Ed’s said. And then he turns his head and his eyes meet mine again. Another smile. But his eyes are saying something else now. And I get the message.

I drag a hand through my hair, make my way back into the room. I start a conversation with Katie, Ed and Claire’s neighbour. Something about a holiday she’s just returned from, but I don’t know where. I’m only half listening.

He’s moved closer now. I can smell his cologne, I know it’s him. Glancing outside, I catch sight of Michael on the terrace, deep in conversation with some of his university colleagues.

For a few more minutes I give Katie my full attention. It was Thailand, the holiday she’s just returned from. And I listen as she tells me of the food she tried, the full moon party she attended, the stunning hotel she and her partner stayed in. I listen, but all the time I’m aware of Liam almost touching me. His hip gently nudges mine, his hand accidently brushes my bottom as he slides past me and I feel my heart start to race as I look back outside, at Michael. A man who doesn’t touch me that way anymore. A man who doesn’t want me, like that, anymore.

We’ve been joined by another of Claire’s neighbours now, so I excuse myself from the conversation, back away a little, deliberately knocking into Liam, hard enough for him to get what’s happening here. He drops his hand and it catches mine, just briefly, but long enough for him to gently squeeze my fingers before he quickly pulls his hand away. He knows what’s happening. Liam knew what I needed before. He knows again now. We both do.

He resumes his conversation with Ed, but I know he’s watching me as I leave the room and make my way upstairs. It’s much quieter here. There are three bathrooms in Ed and Claire’s house so it’s not like there’s hordes of people hanging around up on the landing.

Leaning back against the wall beside the main bathroom door I take a second to think about what I’m doing here. What am I doing here? Is this nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to the way Michael’s making me feel tonight? Am I drunk? Not thinking straight? It might be all three, but right now I don’t care, I’m just tired of feeling empty and alone. I need something that actually makes me feel like I exist.

I hear him bounding up the stairs. I know it’s him, and I smile. He’s keeping a safe distance between us, just in case anyone else is around … He pushes open the bedroom doors, looking inside each one of them to check that no one is there. I think we’re alone, but glance through the corridors once again to make sure. Just one more room to check. The bathroom.

He edges past me, drops his hand and slips it into mine as he nudges open the bathroom door, checks to make sure it’s empty. And without looking at me he pulls me inside, kicks the door shut behind him, slamming me back against the tiled wall before I have a chance to take another breath. And it hurts. The pain is real, but it’s what I need, I need to feel something. Because for months I’ve felt numb, a continuous dull ache. But right now, I feel everything.

My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest, banging against my ribs as I look at him – right into his steel-grey eyes. I want him. I want this. And he knows that.

The corner of his mouth edges up into a smirk and I gasp quietly as he slides both hands up under my dress, his fingers trailing so lightly over my skin they’re barely touching it. I can’t breathe, but I like the feeling, and as he grabs hold of my underwear, ripping it off in one rough yank, the sound of the flimsy material tearing echoes around the empty bathroom. I feel dizzy, excited, sick with nerves. This is wrong, I know it’s wrong. My husband is downstairs, right now; he’s just a flight of stairs away but it’s because of him I’m doing this. He won’t touch me. Won’t talk to me. It’s his fault, he drove me here. Doesn’t he understand? I need this.

Liam presses a hand against the side of my neck, gently pushing my head back, just a touch. I groan quietly as his lips graze the base of my throat; as his fingers stroke my skin, dig into my thigh. My skin feels like it’s on fire, I’m burning up. I want all of this and so much more, I don’t want him to stop.

He cups my bottom, lifts me up and I wrap my legs around him. I want to see him as he pushes inside me but, as his mouth touches mine, my eyes start to close. He’s kissing me, gently at first. A once-familiar kiss. Back then it was okay, for him to do this, to kiss me. To fuck me. Now it’s dangerous. Now it’s wrong, but he’s making me feel again, with every fibre of my being. I need Liam to be the one I take my frustration out on, to be the person I use to vent my pain and anger, I need him. And I want him. God help me …

His fingers intertwine with mine up against the wall as the kiss becomes harder, deeper, more urgent. It’s overwhelming, the intensity. It’s wrapping itself around us, engulfing us, and I open my eyes again. I want to look at him, as he fucks me.

I grip his hands tighter. I can feel him inside me, his eyes burning into mine as his thrusts become harder. They’re verging on violent, but I crave this beautiful pain that is telling me I’m alive. Telling me I don’t always have to live in that new, sad, dark world, not all the time. I can escape, when I need to. So, when he suddenly stops, when he pulls out of me, an overwhelming feeling of emptiness washes over me. It’s unexpectedly brutal, and for a second I forget to breathe.

But before I can get that breath out he’s swung me around so I’m facing the wall. He grabs hold of me, pulls me back against him and I cry out as he slams back into me, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pushes deep, angles my body in a way that enables me to feel every inch of him. But I need to look at him, I want to see him in a way that I can no longer see my husband. I need to see him do this. I need to realize what’s happening, and I buck back against him, pushing him out of me so I can turn around. He gets it now, he knows. We’re not done yet.

His mouth twists up into a slight smile, and I close my eyes as he kisses me again; a slow, deep kiss that grows in intensity as he lifts me up into his arms. He’s back inside me in a heartbeat, my fingers winding in his hair, his breath hot against my neck, and the one thing I’m not feeling is guilty. I’m filled with so much anger and fear, there’s no room for guilt. Here, in this room, with this man, I’m the woman I want to be again. And that’s all I care about.

I drop my head, and bury my face in his shoulder. I grip his hands so tight I must be hurting him, and I can already feel that inevitable climax coming, spreading through my body like a beautiful wildfire. My skin’s still burning, and I want to scream so loud, let all that frustration out, but I can’t, not here – so I bite down on my lip as my body jolts and shakes in his arms. I can barely breathe, my heart’s beating so fast and so loud it’s all I can hear. I don’t even know if he’s come too, all I’m aware of is what’s happening inside of me, when he’s inside of me. Dr Liam Kennedy was my drug of choice once before. He’s become that again.

Unwrapping my legs from his hips, I let my feet hit the floor before I push him away. It’s just a gentle nudge, but I want to look at him now we’re done. I want to see his face, to know he understands what this is. And then I reach out and clutch him by his shirt to pull him back towards me, his hands slamming up against the wall by my head as our mouths crash together in a deep, almost animalistic kiss. I scrunch his shirt up tighter in my fist, and I bite his lip. I want to drown in whatever this is. I’ve tasted escape now. I want more.

‘Are we really doing this?’ I whisper.

He doesn’t answer my question. He just kisses me again, a kiss so hard it pushes my head right back. And then he pulls away, throws me another slight smile, and he walks out of the room. I hear him head back down to the party. Back to my husband, his best friend. A man we’ve both been lying to, for a very long time …