by Billy London
“Stella…” he said. The warning in his voice should have stopped her, but she carried on.
“What are you waiting for?” she yelled. “Go on and enjoy your fancy wife-free life in your brand new home. Go on!”
He closed the door and crossed the room to slam the suitcase lid closed. “Stop shouting. You’ll wake the boys.”
“You don’t give a shit about them. All you’re thinking about is yourself. So I will keep on shouting!”
In the corridor, she heard the shuffle of feet, followed by Will’s plaintive voice. “Muma, why are you shouting? Are you and Daddy fighting?”
An unearthly wail left her throat and she collapsed onto the carpet. Niels sent her a pained look, and then went to the door. In moments, Will was balanced in his arms and his father whispered words of comfort to him. Words he couldn’t possibly share with her.
I’m breaking… she thought desperately.
“Muma’s not feeling too well. Let’s get you back to bed.”
How he lied! Dear God. She pulled the half-full suitcase from the bed and kicked it down the stairs, where it clattered loudly against each and every banister. Niels and both boys rushed out of the bedroom. They looked at the case, and then at Stella.
Wild-haired and wild-eyed, she announced, “Your father’s leaving. Say goodbye to him and he can get on with the rest of his life.”
Will and Danny stared at her, then up at Niels, and burst into tears. Stella walked back into her bedroom and closed it behind her, resting her back against the solid oak. She heard Danny scream, “You can’t go! You just came back!”
“Daddy, please don’t leave,” Will begged, his voice breaking from the onslaught of tears. Stella pressed her ear to the door, trying to make out what their father said in response.
“Listen, both of you.” He raised his voice over their questions and their tears. “Come on, back to bed. I am staying right here until you fall asleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”
Their voices quieted and the door clicked closed. Stella slowly dragged herself to her feet and padded to the bathroom. Her reflection shocked her. “I look like I’m having an episode,” she murmured, reaching over to pick up her toothbrush. In minutes, her hair tamed under a silk scarf, teeth clean and face even cleaner, she pulled on pyjamas, the same ones Niels found so offensive the last time he fucked her for two hours.
Covering her mouth with her hand, she sat on the bed and gave into tears that had threatened to take over her whole body the minute Niels had said her name. Drawing her knees to her chest, she let the sobs take over. She had no idea how long she cried for, or when she fell asleep. The next thing she knew, Niels covered her with the duvet.
“Don’t touch me,” she croaked. He crouched by the side of the bed and lifted the knot of her scarf from her eye.
“They’re asleep.”
“And you came in here to tell me that why?”
His eyes were red, she noticed. Good! I hope this is cutting you the fuck up inside!
“Because you don’t want them hurt any more than I do.”
“Funny way of showing it. Breaking their mother’s heart.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do that. I’m not enjoying this.”
“Then why do it at all?”
He sighed, leaning forward to press his mouth to her cheek. “It’ll be worse if I don’t.” He kissed her again and straightened. “I promised the boys. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“No, you won’t,” she whispered. He hesitated and she shook her head. “If you do this… Don’t hang around. Go. You go. Everything goes with you.” Stella jerked at her wedding and engagement rings, but they steadfastly remained on her fingers.
“Higher power telling you to leave them be. It’s not important.”
Cold slithered its way through her veins. “It is. First stage of the Niels Strøm exit plan, where I erase every single bit of you from my life. Now get out.”
“I will always be in your life, Stella. Past, present, and future.”
She sat up, ripped the bedside lamp from the table and threw it at him. It clipped his cheek and smashed against the wall. He stared at her in shock.
“I’ll say it again, for the deaf one at the back of the room. Out.”
He took a dangerous step towards her, but Danny saved him—or her. He jumped up and down outside the door, crying out, “What’s going on?”
With an inscrutable expression on his face, Niels turned from her and collected Danny in his arms. “Muma’s redecorating. Back to bed.”
Left alone in her room, Stella stared sightlessly at the ceiling. She vowed to throw out the bed and replace it the next day. The eradication of Niels Strøm from her life would begin in earnest.
He started it. She’d finish it.
***
Stillness reigned in the house. At six thirty in the morning, Stella expected nothing less. She hadn’t slept. Why would she? Her marriage was over. Her husband was leaving her.
Last year, she’d cleaned out their house. Spring cleaning. For a day, she hung out her wedding dress, a long confection of the purest white Italian lace. In a time when everyone else had been obsessed with satin and flounces, the lace stood out as vintage, to the point of old-fashioned. Now everyone wore lace. So, to take advantage, she took a few pictures of the dress and put it up on an auction site at a reasonable price and watched as women bid outrageous sums for it. After all, she’d worn it once, not spilled even a tear onto it and it had been hand-stitched by a then-relatively unknown Selene Reyce. The included cathedral-length train whacked the price up even more.
Niels came home and asked her what she was doing.
“Selling my dress.”
“Your wedding dress?” he asked, his eyebrows arched into a frown of such disapproval, she nearly started laughing.
“Yes, that old thing. It’s just taking up space. Look. It’s up to a grand.”
“Take it off that site, right now.”
Stella took her gaze from the increased bid to her husband’s face. “What?”
“You sell that dress, what does that say about our marriage? Disposable. Unimportant. A memory you have no use for. That it means nothing to you. So little you’re willing to give it to a stranger. For money, no less.”
His passion threw her off balance. Of course she loved the dress and every single memory that went with the most perfect of days in her whole life. But it was just a dress. “Well, no… All I’m doing is…”
“Don’t sell it.”
“Niels, I—”
“You sell it and I won’t forgive you.”
His cheeks were flushed with anger and before she could reply, he stormed from the bedroom. Stella immediately removed the dress from the website and packed it away once more.
She found her husband sitting in the office, tapping irritable fingers against the table. Moving his hand out of the way, she eased herself onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m not selling it, so stop sulking.”
“I’ve never sulked in my life,” he muttered, before pressing his mouth to her shoulder. “You in that dress… Reminds me of everything we started out with. And how much more we have together. Don’t. All right?”
“I won’t.”
Knowing he could break his promises so easily, made it easier for her to open her laptop and reload the dress. An hour later, the boys stirred for breakfast and school. Niels didn’t disturb her, only prepared them for the day and packed them into the car. Stella walked around the house with a pad of paper and pen, noting everything he needed to take with him. Clothes, shoes, skiing equipment, that gratuitous fifty-inch flat screen TV, speakers, his fucking filing cabinet… That horrible reclining chair.
The door closed and she stiffened.
Niels leaned on the doorway and tapped his key against the wall. “Shall we try this talking thing again?”
“No need.”
His deep breath drew nothing more than irritation from
her. “I really think we need to.”
She flicked him a look over her shoulder. “Whatever it is… I don’t care.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
The tone in his voice made her look up. “I’m not going to be your wife any more. Means I can do what I want. You don’t have any rights to my truth. My faithfulness. Nothing. It’s not your concern any more. What I do and who I do it with.”
His face flickered with anger, and it stoked a flame of satisfaction in her. “Oh really. That upsets you? Me getting on with my life. With someone who won’t make a pretence with me for years on end? Like I said. Not your concern anymore.”
“Will you listen, you stubborn woman!”
“To what? What do you want to say? What could you possibly say that will even start to undo what you’ve done to me?”
“You don’t feel you can trust me anymore?” he suggested, bitterness sharpening his voice. “Welcome to my world. If you don’t want to talk, fine. I can’t force you to listen. But know I have tried. You want to live in your own land, where you rule, and everyone else is your obedient subject. Forgive me if I want to relocate.”
“No,” she retorted. “I don’t forgive you. I will never forgive you for this. Why are you still here? If I’m so terrible, why haven’t you gone?”
He breathed out, the sound harsh and loud in the room. “I promised the boys I’d be here.”
“That’s it?”
“What more would there be?” he asked bluntly. “I’ll be upstairs packing.”
As soon as he left the room, she collapsed into the nearest chair and struggled to regulate her breathing. She kept expecting any minute to wake up, with Niels beside her, asking her why she kept tossing and turning, keeping him from his precious sleep.
“This is really happening,” she whispered. Who could she call for help? She couldn’t cope with this. Her mother would be horrified. Friends could only offer sympathy, but she had an idea a few of them would be quite pleased. Stella had been undeniably smug about her perfect husband, perfect twins, and her perfect job. She wouldn’t be able to stand the falsity. No, she had to deal with this the way she dealt with everything in her life. Alone.
By the end of the week, her first as a separated woman, the dress would be sold for over four thousand pounds and packaged to a starry-eyed girl in Lancaster, who had no idea of the cruelties marriage would expose her to.
The money of the sale went straight into the pocket of her solicitor.
The Divorce
Chapter Two
One Year Married
“We haven’t even furnished the place properly yet,” Stella protested. Alwine Strøm, Niels’ mother, would be descending on them in mere minutes. Barely married a year, she and Niels were still trying to find their feet as a couple. Her feelings crossed between the surreal and fear, always blanketed by the intensity of her love for her husband.
What-ifs worried away at her in unguarded moments. If he didn’t contact her during the day. If he didn’t even attempt to grope her when he fell into bed after a day at work. If they didn’t have plans for their weekend that didn’t revolve around the house, redecoration, and furniture shops. She worried that maybe they should have just lived together; much to her mother’s disgust. Maybe the wedding had been overwhelming and they had spent an obscene amount of money entertaining and hosting all two hundred guests. The come-down from the day itself had only been marginally assuaged by the honeymoon in Bora Bora, organised by Niels to the letter. They hadn’t done much in their two weeks in the sun. Slept. Made love. A lot. And swam like mer-people. If only they could have stayed there. Shunned reality. Because the moment they returned, all anyone wanted to know was whether she was pregnant and why it was taking so long.
For her mother-in-law to come for a long weekend, on top of the pressure Stella felt to reproduce to her entire family’s timetable, was unnecessary.
“There’s a bed for her, a working shower, she’ll be happy.” Niels assured her, kissing her on the head to reach past her for the coffee press. “You worry too much.”
“I just don’t want her to think I’m neglecting you.”
He sent her an amused glance. “How do you define neglect?”
Ooh, flirting! Good distraction, she thought, a smile curving her lips. “I don’t know... You look a little too well rested for a recently married man.”
Laughing, he caught her by the waist and pulled her in between his thighs as he perched on the lone breakfast stool they’d inherited from Niels’ old home. The other had broken in transport. “Mrs Strøm,” he said gently, and she melted.
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m happy. Because you’re my wife. And when I wake up and see you still beside me, it makes me even happier. Hence the well-rested look. Now, if you want to exhaust me...” His palms roved over her bottom, squeezing both globes with intent.
“No,” she said firmly, lifting his hands from her arse and stepping away.
“What do you want in return?”
Stella nearly knocked over the coffee pot. “Really? What do I want in exchange for that?”
He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “Anything you want.”
“Don’t think you can afford it,” she warned, quickly moving out of his reach. Niels got to his feet and trapped her between his body and the kitchen counter.
The one thing Stella never worried about was their connection. Strong as it had ever been since the day they met. She couldn’t ever imagine a day when she wouldn’t want him. Underneath her. On top of her. Behind her. Testing her limits, pushing her boundaries, making her scream and cry and beg.
“I want every part of you,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent tremors through her body. Lifting a hand, he traced his thumb from her jaw line, to her collarbone, over the rise of her breast to flick over her nipple. “Every single inch. When you let me—and you will let me—you’ll only ask yourself why you didn’t let me earlier...”
His hand delved underneath her T-shirt, a firebrand touch across her heated skin. “Some things,” she murmured, leaning away from his mouth, “are worth waiting for. You’ve got a long way to convince me.”
The smirk on his face acknowledged her challenge, and with slow, deliberate movements, he unzipped her jeans, not taking his eyes from hers for a second. She couldn’t catch her breath as he knelt in front of her and gave the denim a firm tug. He brushed the tip of his nose over her belly, pressing his lips to her flesh.
“Let me know if this is working,” he suggested, a devilish grin lifting his features.
“Ooh...” she gasped, his tongue flicking against her.
“Open for me,” he ordered and despite the restriction of her jeans, she parted her thighs further as commanded. Her mind drifted blissfully free of any concerns. Shudders upon shudders overtook her, with each brush of his tongue, the nudge of his lip against her clit, the feathered touch just below his mouth.
The doorbell rang. A cold bucket of water in a single sound. “She’s early!” Stella gasped. Niels groaned, resting his head against her stomach briefly. He got to his feet and righted her clothing.
“You answer the door and I’ll clean up.”
“Good idea.” Straightening her clothing, Stella forced a smile to her face and opened the door to her mother-in-law.
“Hello!” Stella beamed.
“Good morning, Stella.” Alwine sounded quiet and grave. She always sounded quiet and grave. Before the wedding, Alwine visited Stella in her hotel room.
“Niels said I could come and say hello.”
“Of course. Is he okay? He hasn’t run off, has he?” Stella asked, instantly worried.
“No, not at all. I just wanted to ask you something.”
Stella thought it really wasn’t the time to make requests of a bride, but hey. New mother-in-law. “Sure.”
“Can you... Just, please, look after my son.”
Stella raised an eyebrow. Love, he has all-day access to my vagina. I’
m more than looking after him. “Going to promise that in front of a priest.”
“Just promise me.”
“I promise, Mrs. Strøm.”
“Better to call me Alwine. You’ll be Mrs. Strøm from now on.”
If anything warned her to be careful around her mother-in-law, it centred on those words.
“Can I take your bag, Alwine?” Stella offered, leaning forward to reach for the suitcase.
“No, no. I can manage.” The older woman picked up her case and crossed the threshold, taking a cursory look at the house. “I suppose it’s a work in progress.” She sent Stella a soft smile. “Something for you and Niels to work on together.”
“That’s the idea. Shall I show you to your room?”
“Where’s Niels?”
Sigh. “Just cleaning up. Come upstairs, then I can make you a hot drink.”
Stella winced at the creak of every step and tried not to focus on the plaster still drying on the walls. Niels had a specific vision for the house. One she shared entirely. And even though he’d told his mother that they were renovating, Alwine decided a brief holiday was in order, since her eldest son had been too busy to pay a visit.
“How’s Mr. Strøm?” Stella asked as they reached the corridor.
“He’s fine. He’s gone to stay with Niels’ sister for a few days, while I’m here. I did tell him he could come with me, but...” She shrugged. With an understanding nod, Stella opened the bedroom door and set Alwine’s suitcase inside. Stella had made the effort to lay out brand new bed linen, wedding linen, and clean towels, also bought as wedding gifts. Niels had bought a large bouquet of flowers and set up a tea service in the room for Alwine as well. Just like a bloody bed and breakfast, Stella thought distastefully.
