No Matter What

by Michelle Betham

  She looked up for a second before zipping the bag shut, pushing past him again as she went back out into the bedroom.

  “I’m getting out of here, Michael. I need to get away, I need to think.”

  He grabbed her arm as she tried to leave, kicking the door shut. “You’re not thinking straight, India ...”

  She looked at him. “Too fucking right I’m not thinking straight! I’ve just found out my husband’s been having me followed for Christ knows how long and that’s not something I can just forget about.”

  “We need to work this out. We need to talk about it.”

  “No! No, we don’t, Michael, because there’s nothing to talk about. It’s gone too far and I can’t see a way back, can you? How the hell do we even start to deal with this?”

  She looked at him. The man who’d once been her whole world and yet now – now she just didn’t know anymore. There was a part of her that wanted to stay, a part of her that wanted to forget everything that had happened but she couldn’t. The rational part of her knew she could never really do that, because it would never work.

  “I love you so much, Michael. I really do, and I want you to know that, but, the trust is gone. It’s gone.”

  She felt like her heart was breaking, so strong was the physical pain in her chest.

  “We can get it back,” Michael said, desperation building up inside him because he could feel her slipping away from him. “We can work this out, I know we can.”

  She shook her head, not wanting to look at him because it was killing her, but not wanting to look away either because she’d meant it when she’d said she loved him.

  “No. We can’t. I can’t trust you not to spy on me again, same as you’ll never trust me and Kenny. We could lie to ourselves and pretend that won’t be the case but there’ve been enough lies, Michael. It’s time to face the truth.”

  “You’re going to him, aren’t you? You’re going to Kenny?”

  “Jesus, Michael! Do you see what I mean? You say we can make it work and then prove within seconds the whole reason why we can’t. And no, I’m not going to Kenny.”

  She was slipping through his fingers and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the feeling; he didn’t like situations he couldn’t control and he was rapidly losing control of this one. She wasn’t going to just walk out of his life; he wasn’t going to let her. He’d worked too hard for too many years to lose her now.

  “You can’t go, India. You can’t just leave like this.”

  She picked up her bag and turned to open the door. “Watch me.”

  But, as she turned to go, grabbing the door handle, something inside him just snapped. The years of knowing she’d never been 100% his, the years of having to share her with Kenny Ross, every ounce of frustration and pain and anger, it all came bubbling to the surface, all at once, like a dormant volcano that had been too silent too long as he grabbed her arm, swinging her round, pushing her hard against the wall and she dropped her bag, her reaction one of both shock and surprise. He’d never once shown any signs of aggression towards her, not ever, but then, they’d never been in this situation before. And he’d just lost it.

  “You don’t get to walk out on me, India. You don’t get to do that, I’m not letting you do that.”

  “You’re not letting me? What the hell is wrong with you?” She tried to pull her arm from his grip but he had too tight a hold of her. “You’re hurting me. Let go of me, Michael!” She tried to pull her arm away from him again but he tightened his grip even more, his fingers digging into her wrist as he pushed her back. “Let go of me,” she said slowly. This man in front of her wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. He wasn’t the man she’d married. This was a stranger, and he was scaring her. Those once beautiful blue eyes were now cold and angry, his face hard and alien to her and she’d never felt so frightened.

  He pushed her again, slamming her head back against the wall, kissing her hard, kissing her with an intensity that frightened her. A kiss she hated. A kiss that had nothing to do with love. Nothing. And she just wanted to get away because something had happened in that room. Everything had changed in an instant and she didn’t feel safe anymore.

  “I’m not letting you walk out of my life, India. No way. You owe me. You fucking owe me.”

  “Please, Michael ...” She didn’t want to cry but the tears were threatening. Frightened, angry tears and she closed her eyes to try and shut out the nightmare that was happening to her. She wanted her husband. But he wasn’t there anymore.

  “For all the times you lied to me …” His face was so close to hers as he almost spat the words out. “… for all the times you let him touch you ... you owe me for all of that.”

  “No, Michael ... please ...” The tears were streaming down her face now as he roughly pulled down her jeans, forcing his hand between her legs and she tried to push him away, she tried to stop it from happening but he was just too strong.

  “It’s payback time, honey. Like I said. You owe me.”

  She couldn’t look at him, she didn’t want to. She felt sick as he touched her, her stomach turning over. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening, and she closed her eyes tight in the hope that when she opened them this would all have been some horrific dream, but she could still feel his breath on her face, still feel his fingers gripping her wrist.

  “Please, Michael. No! Don’t do this. I don’t want this; I don’t want you touching me like this, please, stop it!”

  But he wasn’t listening to anything anymore. She was crying and pleading with him to stop but it wasn’t even registering with him. He was out of control, and it was too late. The pain she felt as he pushed his way inside her was unbearable. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want him to do this, she didn’t want him to touch her like this anymore. She’d said no and she’d meant it, so he had no right to do this. And it took every ounce of effort and will that she had inside her but, with an inner strength she’d had to dig up out of nowhere; she lashed out, finally freeing her arm from his grip, pushing him away with a force that surprised her almost as much as it did him.

  And it was as if that push from her had knocked Michael back to reality. He quickly pulled himself together and looked at her, her beautiful face a mask of pain and hurt and fear, and the sickening realisation of what he’d just done hit him like a freight train.

  “India ... baby ... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She just stared at him. She was numb. All feeling had just been wiped away with that one terrifying, hateful act. He might be her husband, but he had no right to touch her like that. No right at all.

  “You’re sorry? You think sorry could ever possibly make what you just did right?”

  “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why I did that, I just went crazy, I just … that will never happen again, India. I promise you that, you have to believe me.”

  He tried to move towards her but she shook her head, putting her hand up to stop him. “Don’t come anywhere near me. I don’t want you anywhere near me; I don’t even want to look at you.”

  “I love you, India.” His voice was desperate, pleading, but she’d had enough.

  “No! No, you don’t. You don’t love me, you don’t do what you’ve just done to someone you love.”

  “I need you, baby. I need you in my life, just tell me what to do to make this better and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything; just don’t walk away from me. Please. Don’t walk away from me, I love you …”

  “You’ve just given up any right you ever had to love me, Michael.” Her voice was slow and steady but inside she was falling apart. “We may have been able to work things out, y’know, you were right. Before … before this … it might just have been possible. I don’t know how, it just might have been, but ... not now. Not after that. Not after what you’ve just done. No, I can’t even talk to you. I don’t even want to look at you, and I don’t want you in my life anymore. Do you hear me? It’s over. You’ve just seen to that.
”

  Michael felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach as she said the words. “You don’t mean that. You just need some time ...”

  “It’s over, Michael.”

  She picked up her bag and made for the door but he grabbed her hand, only for her to pull it away again immediately. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking dare. Every right you ever had to do that has gone. It’s finished.”

  Everything was falling apart around him as he watched every reason he’d ever had for living walk out of the door. She was his whole world, everything he did revolved around her and now she was leaving him and the pain he felt was indescribable. He’d never felt anything like it before. He’d never felt so out of control, so scared of what lay ahead. So alone.

  “Where are you going? India? Please, don’t leave like this. Don’t leave this way, baby, please.”

  She turned around and stared at him one last time, all that strength she’d dug up before slowly slipping away with each second that passed.

  “My lawyer will be in touch.”

  And then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her and he just sank to the floor, his head in his hands. Everything he’d ever loved had just walked away from him, but he knew he’d given her no other choice. He’d lost her. The fight was over. He couldn’t win this one. And there was nobody to blame but himself.

  BOOK THREE

  CHAPTER 51

  2007

  “Kenny, can you go and get Ethan? Dad’ll be here soon to take him to Michael’s.”

  Kenny didn’t move from the sofa and India threw a cushion at him.

  “Kenny! Come on!”

  He pulled her down onto the sofa with him and she laughed as he started tickling her, until it all finally ended in an inevitable kiss.

  “How do I always end up in these positions with you?” she smiled, sitting up astride him.

  “Because you can’t leave me alone.” He smiled too and she flung another cushion at him before climbing off him.

  But he’d probably never spoken a truer word. She couldn’t leave him alone. She hadn’t really wanted to. Over the past few years he’d been there for her when she’d needed him the most, and she’d needed him more than she’d needed anyone else.

  After what had happened with Michael, she’d moved to their Malibu home in the hope that being by the beach could offer her the peace and escape that she’d so badly needed, but all it had done was bring back too many memories. It had made her feel sad for what she’d lost and angry at what had happened and it hadn’t helped her get over Michael by staying there. So she’d found a new beach house of her own, closer to Kenny, although that hadn’t been intentional, it had just been coincidence.

  Her new home was right on the beach front, slightly smaller than the house she’d had with Michael but perfect for her. It was her own private place, her haven, her hideaway and she’d fallen in love with it immediately with its calming colours and its incredible views. And what better place for her son to grow up than on the beach?

  But those first few months had been hard. To just walk out of Michael’s life like that – the life she’d loved - had been something she’d had to do but it had still hurt like hell. Then there were the questions she’d had to endure. Everybody had wanted to know what had gone on, what Michael had done that was so bad it had made her want to cut him out of her life like she had, but she’d never told a soul what it was that had really happened. She’d never told anyone, not even Kenny, what it was that had finally made her make that decision to leave and never go back. For the sake of Ethan she hadn’t wanted anyone else to judge Michael. Or to punish him. She knew he’d be doing that to himself, anyway. All they’d needed to know was that he’d been unfaithful, as had she. The trust had gone therefore the relationship was over. That was the statement she’d given to the media. That was all anyone had needed to know. The truth was nobody else’s business. They could never find out what Michael had done - those few unforgivable minutes that had ended it all - because she knew that if they did, Reece would never forgive him. He’d never speak to him again and she needed him and Martha, and everyone else around her, to be in contact with Michael for the sake of Ethan. He needed to love his dad and to know that it was ok to be with him. If the truth came out that could all disappear and Ethan didn’t deserve that. Ethan needed his dad in his life. Even if she never wanted to see him again.

  Bobby had moved in with her at the beach house, along with Emma, who was now there on a permanent basis to help take care of Ethan, and India knew that without her little boy she’d have just given up. He was her lifeline, her reason for moving forward but he was also a painful reminder of his father. But Ethan had stopped her from just letting it all go, he’d made her realise that she had to pull herself together and start again, despite the fact it had hit her harder than she’d ever imagined it could. She’d never cried so much, never cried for so long. She’d lost weight because she’d just not eaten; she’d given up going out for a good few months because she hadn’t wanted to be around people. Everybody had fussed around her and worried about her but at least, to her face, they’d eventually given up asking questions after a few months. Although she knew that, behind her back, they all thought there was more to the break-up than she’d ever let on. Her refusal to have anything to do with Michael had probably fuelled that, but she wasn’t going to change her mind. She couldn’t see him. It wasn’t that she just didn’t want to because of what he’d done, although that did play a big part in it. She couldn’t see him because, if she did, she was scared she’d give in. She was scared she’d take one look at him and her heart would rule over her head and she’d just want to go back to him when she knew that was the wrong thing to do. She knew that could never happen. So she’d had to stay away. It was as clean a break as she could manage. But because of their son he was always going to be there, even if she never spoke to him or saw him. He was always going to be there.

  For the sake of their baby they had joint custody but she’d never once spoken to him to talk over arrangements. That, as with everything else to do with their split, was handled through a third party and, so far, Michael had complied with everything. The divorce hadn’t been easy but at least it had been quick, and despite everything, she’d kept the name Walsh. For some reason she just couldn’t let that go.

  Ethan was taken and picked up from Michael’s by either Reece or Martha, Bobby or Emma. She’d never once taken him herself, and Michael had never brought him back to Malibu. The ties had been cut and she was getting used to it. But even now, more than three years on, she still wasn’t over it. She still wasn’t over him. Not completely, and maybe she never would be. It was just something she was learning to deal with.

  She’d eventually thrown herself back into work and kept herself busy, slowly putting the past behind her and looking towards a new and brighter future with the only man she could really trust – her son. She’d watched her baby grow up into a well adjusted and bright little boy, who’d just accepted the strange and all-over-the-place life he’d been born into, and as long as he was happy and safe and healthy she didn’t really care about anything else.

  Despite what everyone else had thought would happen as soon as she left Michael, though, she hadn’t gone running straight to Kenny. The papers, magazines and gossip columns had predicted she would but she hadn’t. The official line they’d been given by India herself was that her marriage to Michael had ended because of an affair with Kenny so what else were they supposed to think? But that hadn’t been the case. He was her friend, however, and he had been there for her, and considering their history, it was inevitable that something was going to grow out of that, but she wasn’t sure what that was exactly. She didn’t know if she loved him. She couldn’t say that, because, in her heart, she was still in love with Michael, but Kenny was a big part of her life now, and she needed him there.

  Ethan loved him, he adored him, and Kenny in turn was fantastic with him. Her son may only be thr
ee years old but Kenny already had him his own little surf board and was determined to get him out there riding the waves at a young age. And, of course, she wanted him to play soccer too. In memory of his uncle Terry she wanted him to know the sport and to know that his uncle had been a wonderful man who would have adored him. It was always at times of extreme emotion that she missed her brother so much more, and she’d missed him like crazy these past few years.

  Despite his somewhat fractured family, though, Ethan was an amazing kid. He was being brought up by his busy actress mum, his gay Godfather and his nanny, spending most of his first few years around movie sets and modelling shoots, but he’d grown into the most beautiful little boy with more than a hint of his daddy in him, which was the painful bit for India. Every time she looked at Ethan she saw Michael. He still had that same dark hair he’d had when he’d been born, his eyes were the most incredible blue, and he had the cutest American accent, which India loved. But he looked so much like Michael it hurt. So much like the man she would never forget.

  He was a right little chatterbox too, always asking questions and always telling anyone who listened about the things he’d done and the things he wanted to do when he grew up. Even at three years old he knew what he wanted, or he thought he did. At the minute he wanted to be a rock star, which had been encouraged by Kenny and was fine with India. He could be anything he wanted to be. She just wanted him to be happy, and he was, despite his mum and dad living apart and not even speaking to one another. He was the product of a Hollywood marriage. His circumstances weren’t anything unusual.

  He always told her about his stays with his daddy when he came home from visiting Michael and she’d listen, because deep down inside she wanted to hear about his life, wanted to know what he was doing. She’d just never admit that to anyone. He’d told her all about the new house Michael had, and how his bedroom was the best thing ever, and how his daddy took him on film sets and showed him how movies were made, but he’d never mentioned any other women where Michael was concerned. And she’d never asked, he was only three years old, after all, but she knew Bobby had.