by L M Allen
“How long were you a honeytrap?” I breathe when he lets me. He pauses, his hands in my hair.
“Ten years, or so.”
“And how many...?”
Will inhales sharply. “Baby...” He shakes his head.
“How many?” I don’t know why I’m asking this now. Put it down to the hormones. And curiosity. I want to know how he got so bloody good. “I want to know.”
“Why?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Will’s eyebrows pull together, and he sucks his bottom lip through his teeth.
“A lot, Eva.”
“Like... fifty?” I swallow hard. Fifty. Fifty women who know what it’s like to be with him.
“No. Not like fifty.” Huh.
“So... less?” My eyes widen. “More? A hundred?” He shakes his head and drops his gaze briefly.
“It doesn’t matter, Eva.” His voice has descended a few octaves again; his thumb traces my cheekbone. I step back, suddenly furious that he won’t ever give me a straight answer. Will’s eyes travel over my face. My unblinking eyes. My clenched teeth. My set jaw. And I see it when he decides he’ll have to tell me. There’s something about his eyes. “Around six hundred and twenty.”
A blast of laughter shoots from my belly. Until I realise he’s being serious. He means it.
“Six hundred and twenty!” I screech. Oh, holy fuck. Six hundred and twenty married women. “But...how many of them did you...?” Will’s expression is pained, and I gasp. “All of them?” I whisper. He nods once, not meeting my eyes, and I feel sick. My breathing is as shaky as my hands.
Why did I ask? Why did he tell me! Why does my entire fucking family have to be here now?
“Hey, girls!” I force a smile as they run in my direction.
“Muma, Mae swaid there’s ice cweam at the pool. Can we get some?”
Thank you, Summer!
“Great idea. Come on.” I hold out both hands, and they are immediately snatched up by two little monkeys.
I’m practically running for the door. And it’s nothing to do with keeping up with the girls. Six. Hundred. And twenty. Fuck!
I breathe a little easier the further we are from the villa, but I can’t get the image out of my head. His hands on someone else. On the blonde. His lips. His tongue. His body. His breath in her ear.
I bite my lip hard when tears well up in my eyes, and lower my sunglasses from my head onto my face.
“This way!” Mae calls out, and she and Summer dash off ahead. Six hundred and twenty. Making me just one of many. The latest in a very long line.
When I catch up with the girls, Summer is ordering herself an ice cream sundae, and Mae is fidgeting, her hair swishing as she swings from side to side.
“What would you like, sweet pea?” I ask her, my fingers lightly raking her hair.
“Chocwat, pease,” she says quietly. I nod, and she peeks up at me. “You go ahead and order.” Mae stares at me blankly. I glance at the attendant, to let him know to give us a sec, and he’s frozen, looking just as blank. I’m about to ask when Mae says, “I’m not allowed.”
“Sorry?”
“She means she’s not allowed to talk to the staff,” the attendant says. “That’s Will Hunter’s daughter, right?”
“Well, yes... but...”
“But I just spwoke to you.” Summer frowns, her bottom lip verging on pouty. The attendant looks confused.
“Are you her new nanny?” he asks me, his eyes flicking between my girls.
“Excuse me?”
“Because they should have told you...he doesn’t let her interact with any of the staff or guests. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Mae, do you want ice cream?” I try to keep my voice calm. Not to growl. She nods. “Then go ahead and order yourself an ice cream.” That’s absurd! She’s terrified. “Chocolate sundae?” She nods, her eyes wide. “So, tell the man that, and he’ll get it for you.”
“Look, lady, I think you should stick to the rules, or we’re both gonna get fired.”
“Go ahead, Mae. Tell him what you’d like.” I smile and nod encouragingly.
“Chocwat sundae, pease.” It’s so quiet he couldn’t have heard her, but he must know by now what she would like. I just wanted her to say it.
“Great. With sauce? And a flake?” I ask enthusiastically.
“Yes, pease.”
“And a lemonade,” Summer pipes up. “Pease.” I glance at Mae, my eyebrows raised in question.
“And a lemonade, pease.” Now she’s getting it!
“Mr Hunter...” the man splutters, tripping over his own words.
“Tad. I see you’ve met my wife and daughters.” Will is right behind us. I inch forward but glance over my shoulder.
“I did try to tell her, sir... I said... your wife?”
“Daddy, why cwan’t we speak to anywon?” Summer asks, her little hands on her hips.
“Yeah, Daddy. Why not?” I bite, spinning around. Will’s eyes flick to mine briefly with a frown, and then he crouches between the girls.
“You can speak to whomever you like. As long as there’s an adult with you. It’s an outdated version of reality. That doesn’t apply anymore.”
“What?” Summer says, her nose wrinkled.
“It’s not a rule anymore. It’s how things used to be.” He stands and addresses the attendant. “I’ll let the staff know.” The guy nods mutely back at him.
“So, two ice cream sundaes and two lemonades please, Tad,” I reiterate. “As soon as you’re ready.” I smile sweetly when his tormented eyes meet mine. Will’s hand slides over my belly, and I push it away. I really don’t want him to touch me. Not right now.
“Grab a table, girls. I’ll bring them over.”
“Eva,” Will says as a soft sigh.
“Me? I’m surprised you remember my name. Six hundred and twenty is a lot to remember.” I don’t know what I expected. I don’t know why I’m so upset. I don’t know why I fucking asked!
I snatch up the ice creams as soon as they touch the counter, and make a dash for the girls.
Will joins us after a minute, with the lemonades and a virgin mango daiquiri. He sits in the only empty chair, beside mine.
“So, what do you think, Summer? Do you like our hotel in Mexico?” Will asks as he settles himself comfortably, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table.
“Yep. It’s good. I fink it would be better with a water-side though.” She shrugs and shovels more ice cream into her mouth.
“A waterslide, eh? And where would that go?”
“In the pool, silly.”
“Anything else you’d add?” I can feel it every time his eyes flick in my direction.
“A pway-gwound.”
“A playground? Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. What about you, Mae?”
“I’d love a waterslide!” she enthuses.
“Eva? What—?”
“Hey, Will,” a woman in a bikini coos. A bikini is a very loose interpretation of the tiny scraps of material she has plastered to her perfectly toned, perfectly tanned body. “I was hoping I’d bump into you again.”
“Maybe a few less guests? You ready, girls? We’ll take the ice cream with us. I’ll bring your drinks.”
“Hello,” Will says. “Excuse us. We should be at a family thing.”
“Family? Is this your—”
“My wife.”
“Hewow. I’m Summer.” Summer introduces herself to the gaping woman. “That’s my sister, Mae.” The woman’s eyes flick from face to face. “Are yow my Daddy’s fwend?” The woman stutters, trying to find words. I suppose it’s hard to explain a fuck buddy to a four-year-old.
“No, angel. She’s a guest here. It was good to see you. Excuse us.” He takes a lemonade from my grasp and then my hand. The girls rush off ahead, and the woman recovers her ability to speak.
“You should know we slept together the last time I was here,” she sneers with a satisfied smirk.
“
Yeah? Don’t get too excited. You’re probably number six hundred and twenty-one. You must be so proud. Or was she included in that first figure?” I look up at Will expectantly, but he only gazes back at me. I turn and walk after the girls, leaving Will to reminisce with what’s her face.
Chapter 19
When I get back to the villa, thirty seconds after the girls, it’s full of sunlight and laughter. I’d love to go and shut myself away in the bedroom, curl up in a ball, and feel sorry for myself. But I can’t. The villa is chock-a-block with our family, here for a good time. They don’t need my drama. I asked, after all.
And then I realise the total gets bigger. Or worse. It must... I only asked about how many women he’d trapped. How many marks. I didn’t mention casual hookups. Oh crap! My stomach turns over, sloshing the contents in violent waves.
Okay, Eva. You have one minute. One minute to feel as sad as you like, and then you stand up, brush yourself off, and go out there and smile like a woman on her honeymoon.
So, I walk in slow, long strides to the bathroom. Carefully lock the door. And sink down to the floor. And I get it. It’s not just jealousy. This feeling is... inadequacy. And I hate it.
I’m jealous of every touch that wasn’t mine. Every kiss that didn’t find my lips. And I’m scared. I’m scared that he’s had so many women. So many bodies. Experienced so much. And I’m just me. Fat and pregnant. Painfully inexperienced, with all of three men I ever slept with, including Will. I’m scared I’m not enough to keep him. To keep him interested.
I’ll only get fatter. My body will be permanently altered after. I’ll be up to my eyes in vomit and nappies in a few months, looking like death warmed up, with purple circles around my sleep-deprived eyes. And he’ll be...out there...being him. Just as beautiful as he is now. And all those women...
When the tears in my eyes threaten a storm of self-pity, I know my time is up. I rise to my feet, wash my face, and plaster on a smile. Time to Adams up, soldier.
Will is waiting in the bedroom. He whips around to face me when the bathroom door clicks closed.
“You back already?” I greet him. And I walk straight past him, and head for the beach and the party that sounds like it’s in full swing.
Will grabs hold of my arm as I’m about to make the door. “Will you just talk to me, please?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Eva...” His hand goes to his hair, his fist closing around a chunk and pulling so hard I can see the roots straining. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I shouldn’t have asked.” I smile brighter, yank my arm free, and march right into the party with a ridiculous grin on my face. This is just like work. Smile, energy, laugh and be happy. Or at least look it. You got this.
As soon as I’ve tucked the girls up in bed later that night, and our guests have dispersed, I turn around and walk out onto the sand, my sandals sinking a little. I stop and kick them off, leaving them where they fall. I need some space. Just for a few minutes. No one will even notice I’m gone. I direct my feet along the shore.
“Oh!” I gasp when Will steps out in front of me, and I bump into his chest. I take a couple of steps back.
“We need to talk.”
“We really don’t. I know more than enough.”
“You’ll have to talk to me eventually...”
“Don’t count on it.” His eyebrow rises. And my head tilts, accepting his challenge. If he thinks it’s that easy to make me comply, he’s dead fucking wrong.
“Please?”
“No.”
“Eva...”
“No! I need some space, Will. Please, just leave me alone.”
“For Christ’s sake, Eva! It was just sex!” he hisses. “Just sex. It didn’t—”
“You say it didn’t mean anything, and you’ll regret it,” I snarl.
“You’re the one who was fucking married! Married, Eva! So, what if I fucked a thousand women? I didn’t marry any of them!” My heart stutters, and my breath has turned to short little huhs.
Ouch.
“You’ve probably had way more sex than me, just with the same person. Your ex-husband. I’d rather be in your line than mine. The only one of many, rather than the second of two.”
I’m starting to get used to that crushed feeling, so it really shouldn’t hurt this much to watch him stalk away. But it does. I gasp for a full breath as Will stalks back towards the villa.
“Wow. That’s what your daddy thinks, huh?” I tell my bump, my hand circling over my top. “Well, now we know, I guess.” And I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I shouldn’t be surprised sex means that little to him. I mean, look at his job. So why does it hurt so much?
I sit on the damp sand and pull up my knees, crossing my forearms over the top, with my chin on my arm. I keep my attention on the waves, crashing and lapping just a few inches from my feet.
My eyes are stinging and heavy with exhaustion, but I don’t want to sleep in the same bed as Will, and I don’t know which rooms are occupied. I don’t fancy finding out much either. I’m bound to walk in on something I’d rather not see, so I negotiate myself to standing and make my way to the road. I’ll check if there’s another room available anywhere. I’ll grab my phone before I go.
“Hello.” The receptionist greets me brightly.
“Hi. Can you tell me if there are any other rooms or villas available, please?”
“Err...” Her dark eyes scan a computer screen, and she taps something. “Is there a problem with your room, ma’am?”
“No. No problem with the room.” She looks up at me; the question is in her eyes, but she doesn’t ask it.
“Okay... I only have an executive villa available for two nights.”
“Great. Thank you.”
“Can I take your name?”
“Eva Adams.”
“And you’re already a guest here, Ms Adams?”
“Yes.”
“No problem. I’ll link the files. Do you have luggage?”
“No, I’ll pay for it myself. Thank you. And no luggage.” I slide my card out of my phone case and place it on the counter. She takes it, pressing her lips together. She’s so desperate to ask. Or for me to tell her. It’s almost painful.
“I’ll have Jeffrey take you down on the cart. It’s a long walk.”
“Thanks.”
When Jeffrey leaves me at my new accommodation, right in the bottom corner of the resort, I’m exhausted. Physically and mentally. It took too much energy to pretend today. And I don’t think I have the capacity for any further pain. I just want to be happy. I strip off and fall into bed, more than ready to sleep, but my brain won’t slow down. I can’t quite reach that pause button. So, I do what I always do. I get up again and reach for my phone. I need to do some work.
My email inbox is bursting at the seams! Hell, I’m regretting more and more of my decisions lately. But there’s nothing for it but to dive on in. So, I start at the bottom and work my way up.
I forward almost everything to someone else to deal with, since it needs attention sooner rather than later, and I’m whizzing through the list at lightning speed. Until I come to an email from an anonymous sender. It has a link. I’m not stupid enough to click a link in an email from someone I don’t know, but when I scroll down, there’s a picture of Will and the blonde. The caption underneath it reads:
Wouldn’t you like to know what really happened?
I’m frozen, staring at Will on the screen, until I hit delete.
***
I don’t know how many times my depraved arse dragged that file out of the junk bin and zoomed in, but I think I’m finished throwing up. And I know I’ll never get the image out of my head. Will and the blonde. The look on her face. The look on his.
I know it’s just sex to him. That he thought I was sleeping with Gary when he did this, but...I rub at the ache in my chest, wishing it away, and it only intensifies.
Another email comes in from the same
sender. I click it fast before I can delete it.
Now you know what kind of man Hunter really is.
Does it matter? my brain whispers. We weren’t together then. He thought I was sleeping with Gary. Because someone made him think that. How? Is that what this is?
I enlarge it again and look for the details. Something that proves this isn’t him. But every detail is there. Right under my nose, in front of me on the screen. Things that would be nearly impossible to fake, unless you’d seen him naked. The smattering of freckles on his left shoulder blade. The dimples at the base of his spine. His clothes. The room, even down to the sheets on the bed. There’s no evidence that it’s photoshopped. Everything looks perfectly normal. Exactly as it should. Or shouldn’t.
Even the bed that he fucked her in. And if she is pregnant, there’s every chance it could be Will’s.
Davey lied to me. Will lied to me. And I wanted to believe it. Even after seeing them together with my own eyes.
Maybe Will lied to Davey too, or maybe this was all Davey’s idea? His idea of protecting me? Maybe he forced Will to leave her and marry me. Maybe he already knew, somehow, that I was pregnant. Or maybe he just thought I couldn’t live without him. Who knows why? Why anyone does what they do?
I don’t know. I don’t know! I have no idea what’s true anymore. Only that I should never have married that man.
A WhatsApp message makes my phone scuttle across the table. I tap on the unknown number. It’s a scanned picture, an ultrasound captioned:
He knows it’s his. He wanted her to have an abortion.
And my empty stomach heaves. My hands are shaking as another message lights up the screen.
You can do better.
My heart splits in two as I realise, with earth-shattering clarity, that I don’t want to do better. I love him. That man. The man who made me feel like this. The man that betrayed me. And I also know I should stop. And how impossible that will be.
I really need to leave. I need to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do now. All over again. I snatch up the phone and message my mum. I need Summer to stay here this week. In the meantime. She’s safe with my mum and Davey. She’s better off with them right now anyway. I feel like I might crumble at any second.
