“I will always, always regret this,” he says, “but it felt like I was up against it. Either my own problems or yours. It’s like your mate Paul told me when he took me to one side when he was out in Melbourne and we all met up. He said he’d been there, trying to love someone when there was just too much against it… that I should let go.”
“Oh my god, what does Paul know?” I growl. “What does that fucker even know about anything?”
“He knew a lot actually. He told me about you and Adam. How you’d go running the moment you knew Adam was single again. How you’d come over here to escape his wedding and all that. Paul told me everything. Mate to mate.”
I tip my head back, disgusted… another reason to hate Paul added to the list.
That’s why Cole reacted so badly when we saw Adam at the cinema – he knew the backstory before I even told him about it.
“You knew he’d got married at Oulton Hall.”
“And I saw your reaction,” Cole tells me coldly. “And how you tried to mask your feelings.”
“You set me up to fall,” I scream.
“You fell all on your own,” he says. “You did leave Australia, the moment you knew he was separating from Susan, didn’t you?”
I bow my head. It’s true.
“But I thought everything changed in January, I thought it was a new chapter.”
“Then tell me you don’t still love him, Chlo. Tell me. Tell me you will still love me in ten or fifteen years, like you’ve loved him, since you were a little girl probably. Tell me your love for me is just as strong as your love for him. TELL ME!”
I have nothing to say. I will never, ever love anyone like I love Adam.
Ever.
He’s the sweetest man I’ve ever known and the most beautiful soul.
I love him.
I really, really love Adam.
I live for him. I live for moments with him. Moments that make the expansive years of loving him worthwhile.
“Paul told me he’d loved Lily almost as long as you’ve loved Adam and he said that his mistakes were ultimately always going to ruin everything. That he knew the best he could hope for was to love her from afar. That no amount of forgiveness, no amount of time could ever erase the mistakes he’d made and that it was doomed and he knew it would kill him but he loved her anyway because it was better to know than to not. It was better to try and fail than to never know. Well, that’s what I thought I could outrun… that I could evade all that shit hanging in the background between us… but I couldn’t. We couldn’t. There’s too much standing in our way. Too much distance. Too many women. Too much Adam.”
I don’t understand his logic… that my love for one man means it’s okay for him to possibly wreck the lives of dozens of women, some of whom might have had feelings for Cole, might have ended up pregnant by him or worse, might have ended up unemployed if they couldn’t hack working alongside him anymore. To fuck the people beneath him… abuse his authority.
“You don’t know about Paul,” I tell Cole. “His dad is an abusive alcoholic. He thinks he deserves nothing in life. He’s his own self-fulfilling prophecy. But you? You’ve had everything. Your parents paid for you to come to London where you knew you could start a whole new life and find a whole new scene to sink your cock into. You’ve had everything on a plate your whole life, the perfect mum and dad, the perfect life. The role models most of the rest of us would kill for. Devoted to one another. And you? What’s your excuse for being the way you are, hmm? You’re just selfish, Cole. You want your cake and to eat it. That’s all you want.”
“I love you,” he growls. “And if you don’t believe that, I can’t do anything to convince you otherwise. I love you. I might not always have said it or shown it, but I know now that I do love you and that you were the one I was always waiting for. I screwed up, big style. I messed up. But I love you. And if you ask me, I will move there and be with you. You can track my phone, hell… I’ll even let you create a duplicate so you can see who I’m messaging, what I’m doing. But damn it, Chlo you know the truth. You know that it’s a very delicate balance to make things work. It has to be the right time, the right place. The right person. I know how you throw yourself into work, more than I ever have or ever will. We’ve barely spoken since January because you use your work to avoid reality. You find solace in your work and I understand that. But this isn’t just my fault, Chloe. If we’re gonna learn anything from this, it’s that it’s not just my fault.”
My chest feels tight. My prefrontal cortex aches. I’m exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally.
“Today was my last day in the job. I quit. I sold my car. I’m giving up this house. I’m packing everything. I was going to buy a plane ticket next week and come.”
There’s silence, then there’s crying.
“No, Chloe,” he cries, sounding so weak.
There’s more crying, much more, unending actually.
He cries for ages and ages and ages.
Cold tears fall down my cheeks.
I feel nothing but numb agony.
When he quietens, I whisper, “I found out something recently, about my mother. That’s why I’ve been quiet. She fucked one of my friends when he was fifteen. Then they had a relationship when he got older. It’s on and off as far as I know. It explains why he’s odd and never around… why he distanced himself. Theo, Paul and Adam were all sworn to secrecy to protect this person. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it and I decided I had to leave Leeds and I was going to come and surprise you. I hadn’t fully decided yet… but I wanted to surprise you.”
“I’ll buy you the ticket,” he says, “just come. I’ll buy it. Just come, Chloe. We’ll figure everything out. I swear to god I won’t ever do anything like this ever again. Please. Come and be with me. I love you. Let me take care of you. Please. I’m begging you. Please. I need you.”
He covers his face with his hands, in agony, crying uncontrollably. I see the man finally unfurl, the desperation in his tone of voice, the pure, white pain of coming so close… only to fail.
“If I come, I won’t stop loving Adam,” I tell him. “I’ll always love him. He doesn’t want me. He still loves Susan. He might never get over it. But can you live with it? Knowing a piece of me is always going to be attached to him, just a little bit?”
He blinks fast, trying to come to terms with my brutally honest confession. I know he will always struggle with my past… it’s taking too long for him to decide he can live with it.
“We need time to think things through,” he argues, “for a few days. Let it all sink in.”
“And what if I said I want to fuck him goodbye, what would you say to that?”
He opens his mouth to speak, then realises he doesn’t have any case to argue. “I’d have to respect you on that, I guess. And pray you come back to me.”
We stare at one another through the tiny screens of our phones. We’ve reached something, not an accord, just a place where all the lies have been spilt and there’s nothing left to admit.
The filth inside us is out there now, for each of us to see.
“I have to visit the rents today,” he says, “but I’m going to be thinking about you the whole time. And I want you to take some time to think about things. Whatever you decide, I will go along with. Whatever it is, I will accept. I promise.”
“Okay.”
“Sleep tight, angel,” he says.
“Bye, Cole.”
Chapter Twenty-One
My phone ringing wakes me the next day, the shrill sound making my brain throb with unending spasms, like someone scratching their nails down a chalkboard and a thousand cringes rippling through your brain, then your body, and back to the brain again.
“Alright, alright.” I don’t even check to see who it is. My eyes won’t open yet. They’re encrusted from crying, from sleep… from the make-up I didn’t take off last night. “Hello?”
“Oh, hey. I’ve been calling for the past ten min
utes. I’m outside.”
“Oh my god, Adam.”
He laughs loudly. “I’ve woken you up.”
“I’m a mess.”
“Sorry, but I woke up… and I was… I had this impulse, and here I am.”
“What the hell time is it?”
“Midday,” he says, chuckling.
“Oh shit, and I didn’t even drink that much… or at least, I thought I didn’t.”
“I’ll go someplace and come back, if you like.”
“No, no, wait there.”
I hang up on him and check myself in the mirror as I’m grabbing my dressing gown.
Shitting hell… what a mess.
I chase down the stairs and see his shadow behind the door.
“I’m opening it but don’t look. I’m going to shoot back up the stairs and shower, okay? Don’t look. It’s not pretty.”
“Okay, Chloe,” he says, trying not to laugh.
I unbolt the door and chase away, hear the door creak open behind me and him whisper, “Is it safe?”
“Get in, you nutjob. Don’t let the cold in.”
He’s still laughing as he closes the door and locks it again.
I head straight for the bathroom and grab a breath of air.
“Want some coffee?” he yells.
“Tea, please. Get what you want, okay? Help yourself,” I yell back down.
“THANK YOU!”
I set the shower running first of all and stick a toothbrush in my mouth as I sit on the toilet.
God, I feel like crap.
It’s more than a hangover. It’s something else. Something way worse. Like a… nervous thing. Like my nerves have been frayed to their core, and I’m tingling all over, exposed… no protection. I’m split through. There’s no healing this now.
I stand under the spray and let it pelt my frail nerves, thundering across my skin, shaking me back to life a little. It’s heaven-sent when I put my face under the rain and wash the gunk out of my eyes, feeling washed clean of everything that went down last night – that sick feeling inside me more about Cole than the alcohol.
What he did… how he spoke last night… who he is.
How he cried.
How fucking torn I feel now.
I shampoo my hair twice just to give me extra time in the shower. It’s a dream. I leave the conditioner in and stand back from the spray as I exfoliate and scrub my body, all over. I grab the special wash for my face and use the neutral soap for my intimates, grabbing the showerhead and getting everything super clean. I’m fairly well groomed already because I had a quick shave all over last night, just in case. I mean, I didn’t know…
Adam turned up, looking hot… he had a smile in his eyes. Maybe it was just the surprise party he was looking forward to, maybe it was more.
What’s more, he’s back this morning. What does it mean? Anything or nothing? Or is it technically the afternoon now?
I’ve shed my shell that I developed overnight, washed away the crust and the funk, now I’m tingling all over, my nerves forced to heal themselves – the water resetting me.
I leave the bathroom and hear him pottering around the kitchen, whistling. He sounds happy.
I enter my bedroom, switch on the radio and start blow-drying my hair, which may take a while. I run some tonic through it as I’m working the heat along the lengths, trying to keep it natural but silky. It has a natural wave I try to maintain but sometimes it just ends up frizzy.
However, when my hair works out okay and I’m standing in the mirror seeing waves, I’m pretty certain today might be a good day – the hair worked out, so maybe everything else will?
I chuckle to myself as I release my towel and finish off with a bit of a blast of heat from the dryer around my body, eradicating any rogue droplets of water the towel didn’t get.
I pull on some black panties and a matching bra. Then I grab some thick socks and jeans, a t-shirt and a jumper. It’s my classic Saturday outfit for winter and there was a smattering of snow overnight. I know because it’s gathered in the corners of my glazed bathroom window.
I finish with a light covering of tinted moisturiser on my cheeks, a lick of mascara and a slick of clear lip gloss on my lips. I feel so much better already.
Downstairs he’s scrolling through his phone, perched on the edge of a tall bar stool against the counter, a mug hugged into his chest, his coat and boots still on.
“Good morning… afternoon,” I announce.
He looks up and grins. “Wow, you look lovely. Thought I’d be taking you to hospital or something, the way you were talking.”
I scream the house down with laughter. “Water is this really amazing thing, you know? Gets rid of the most hideous sins known to man.”
I grab the cup of tea he made me and sink half of it almost in one. I see he found the teapot and when I lift it, I discover it’s still full of tea. I refill my cup and see he’s still scrolling.
“Sorry, I’m just checking my overnight reach,” he says, “and my new followers. It can get a bit addictive, this thing.”
I’ve drunk almost two cups of tea, danced around the room hunting for something to eat and made toast before he looks up again, pocketing his phone.
“What about a drive?” he asks, eyes glinting. “I need to run her out and it’s a gorgeous day. Cold, but gorgeous.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know, pick somewhere. Where do you fancy?”
“Somewhere in the country?”
“Harewood House? They have a thing on at the minute, I think. Some sort of exhibition of some kind. I saw an advertisement as I was passing on the motorway.”
“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.” A beautiful stately home. A lovely country gentleman. “It’s not too snowy? For the she-beast, I mean? She won’t break down.”
“Solid as anything, that thing,” he tells me, sounding certain.
I have a quick tidy around, put the empty cups and the pot on the drainer for washing later. I dump my birthday cake in the bin and wipe away the crumbs and the spills, making sure we won’t be infested with rats when we get back – if indeed it is a ‘we’ that gets back later.
Pulling my boots on in the hall, he stands by the staircase watching me, hands in his pockets.
“What?” I ask, more than self-conscious.
“Did you and Cole speak?”
“Only until about three a.m., I think. Then I cried for a few hours, necking the last of my wine.”
“No wonder you were still asleep, then.”
“I’m a woman, Adam. Bit of a cry, bit of a sleep, right as rain again… or I’m getting there, at least.”
I’m still tying up my walking boots when his voice changes, lowering, “What happened, then?”
I sigh dramatically. “Where would I even start?”
“I don’t know.”
I take a seat on the last step of the stairs so I can do my laces properly and get them tight.
“He wants me to think things over. Wants me to still go there and live with him. Or he would come here if I asked. He basically can’t remember how many women he’s been with since he and I met, he lost count, and he blames it on the fact our circumstances were casual, as he puts it. Meanwhile I slept with three other guys in the same time and he knew about each one and why it happened. But the strange thing is, you know, while we were out in Australia, I was really faithful and it turns out, he really wasn’t. Yet he cried straight for about an hour last night, non-stop crying down the phone.”
When I don’t get any response from Adam, I look up to see what his face looks like. He’s hiding behind his scarf and the high collar of his woollen coat.
“Say something,” I murmur.
He jerks himself out of some sort of suspended state and blurts, “Does he love you?”
“He says so.”
“Maybe you have to give it a shot, then. A proper go.”
I go back to tackling the laces and get one boot done, then move onto the other
. “You’re not saying what you really think.”
“I’m not here to sway you,” he retorts.
“But you have some thoughts.”
“I do, yeah… I probably do.”
I laugh at him. “You probably do.”
He hides his grin behind his coat collars. “Maybe.”
“Come on, let’s go.” I grab my bag and my phone, checking my messages.
Nothing since last night.
He’s giving me space to breathe.
I lock up and find Adam waiting by the car, door open ready for me to hop in. He shuts me inside the car and then rounds to his side, jumping in.
“Shit, it’s cold,” I complain.
“Wait a few minutes and she’ll be pumping out heat,” he reassures.
He starts the engine and sure enough, in no time at all the car’s warm and we’re heading out of the city towards the ring roads, travelling south.
As we purr along, I decide this is a lovely car. Low to the ground but a real car, nonetheless. A little bit scrappy around the edges, not a tank like the Volvo I just got rid of, but nice… a little racer. A nippy little girl, like a whippet, bounding along happily.
We’re on the motorway when he says, “Do you want to know what I think, then?”
“Go on.”
“This is purely my blokey perspective, by the way. And maybe a little of Theo’s too; we have a similar sort of outlook.”
“Go on, then.”
“Well, when you’re in love with someone, you don’t see anyone else. It’s slightly different for men and women, though. A woman will tie herself down once she knows the guy is serious. Until then, she’s a slave to her urges, her animal instincts telling her she needs a mate… the urge to reproduce always there, even if you don’t realise it. It’s like in the wild, you see… she can toy with a load of suitors for a bit… but when she picks that one, she sticks with him. Only after he’s proven himself, though.”
“I’m following.”
“But for a bloke, he’s got all these women. It’s natural to want to spread it about. To sow your seed. To provide what women want… babies… pleasure. Whatever. It’s like, I don’t know, a man can get hard and can get off on the physical side of it, but doesn’t have to be invested emotionally like a woman, who’s maybe sizing up a partner on his ability to be a father, to be a partner, to protect her and their babies. Sometimes, a bloke doesn’t even care if the woman is hot… just as long as he can, you know… do the deed.”
Bad Girl Page 19
