I climb into bed and the exhaustion of it all drags me under as I cry myself to sleep.
The alarm clock wakes me and I slam my hand against the off button. It’s set for seven, when we’d both usually get up together. He’s not in the bed with me and I don’t have to go to work today so I roll over and try to block out everything that’s happened.
However, I can’t rest, not now I’m awake. The pain is still there and it feels like I am carrying a lead weight between my legs.
I open the bedroom door to discover him passed out on the sofa, sprawled, his hand reaching out for the almost-empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. He drunk until he passed out, huh?
I waddle to the bathroom, deal with the mess and re-right myself, then head for the kitchen and a cup of tea.
On my way home from the hospital last night in a taxi, I just kept thinking one thing, just one thing.
It’s still whirring around my head and it’s terrible, but it’s true.
I make two cups of tea and slam one down on the coffee table next to him. He jumps out of his skin, slurring and delirious as he opens his caked-shut eyes, rubbing them furiously.
“You’ll be late for work,” I shout, and he holds his head.
I head back for the bedroom, tuck myself in and scroll through my phone for signs of life.
Something catches my eye when I open my personal emails. It’s something from Theo, sent a few days ago.
Dear Lily,
Hi. Hey. How are you doing?
I’m writing because we haven’t spoken and it doesn’t feel right. I feel awful for how we left things, or rather how I left things, because you haven’t been in touch and so I realise I must have made you feel like I didn’t want to know anymore. For that, I’m sorry.
I will always be here for you, no matter how grumpy or idiotic I get, I will come running whenever you need me, you know that. You were there for me during my madness over Susan and maybe Paul’s your madness, I don’t know. I want so much to believe you can help him, heal him… change him. But in my experience a leopard never does change its spots. I’m sorry. Perhaps it’s a lesson you’ll have to learn.
I am your truest friend and I love you.
I’m back in the UK in the summer – see you then?
T x
His words bring a sad smile to my lips and I reply with just one sentence: Love you too, see you then xx
Maybe it’s true what they say, that once you’ve shagged someone, you can never, ever be friends again. Something happens, maybe, when two people exchange fluids and it makes you vulnerable to hurt and therefore, the friendship will always be bogged down by who loves who more and the possibility of betrayal. Perhaps Paul held out on me for so long because he thought I would one day betray him. Looking at it all through his point of view, he betrayed me, after all… so why shouldn’t I also be capable of that? I fear that all that time he kept me hanging, he was only ever protecting himself.
I hear Paul jump into the shower, groaning as he does. He leaves the shower and throws up in the toilet – the one I bled our baby out into just a few hours ago. How poetic.
He enters the room looking like death and grabs some clothes, saying nothing.
He leaves the room and throws up in the bathroom once more.
Then I overhear him on the phone. “I’m not going to be able to make it in today… I’ve got a stomach bug or something… yeah, I feel as terrible as it sounds… Okay, thanks, I will, thanks…”
He gets off the phone and stumbles into the room, carrying his cup of tea.
“Where did you go last night?”
He rubs his forehead. “I went drinking with Dad. I told him he was right.”
Paul turns and looks at me, tears in his eyes.
“How was he right?”
“About it not lasting. He was right.”
I rein in my fury and bite out, “We’ve broken up, have we? News to me.”
He throws his cup across the room and it smashes into little pieces. “You got pregnant, having not told me about coming off the fucking pill! You’ve messed with my head so much doing that, you have no idea, no idea.”
I swallow hard. I have no idea? I have no idea?
“It’s my body. You were there quite happily not using condoms. You never asked this time round if I was still on the pill. You just expected I would be because I’m the dependable one, Lily the Dependable, the one always here, always waiting, always faithful and yet always shat on, every, single time. Every time.”
He shakes his head. “You should have told me.”
“It’s my body.”
“How can I look after you if you don’t tell me shit!” He stands up, flailing his arms around.
That thing I kept saying to myself in the taxi last night… I have to say it now. It has to be out or it might gnaw at me forever.
“I didn’t tell you because I thought… I thought…”
I can’t say it, I can’t.
It won’t come out.
He looks down at me and grimaces. “Because you thought it would make me stay with you, because I left you before, because I fucked you over before, because I hurt you. Yeah, you wanted a baby, I know that. But you wanted to tie me down and you thought a baby would do that.”
It hurts so much to hear him say it. It’s like hearing all your worst traits, thrown out there for all the world to see. I feel like clawing my own eyes out.
I want Paul to be my husband and the father of my kids so badly, but he did things… things he can’t undo. We’ve both known it. All along. We’ve both been burrowing underneath the truth, using sex and our careers and everything, really, to avoid the one, glaring truth…
I don’t trust him. Even if I spent a whole lifetime trying to learn how to, I wouldn’t be able to. The pain when I woke up in that hotel, alone… it will never, ever go away. The shame, disappointment, heartbreak… hurt. He broke me that day.
“You’re your own self-fulfilling prophecy,” I tell him. “You say you’re going to fuck up, and you do. That’s how you work. Because of him.”
“I know that,” he says, angrily wiping his eyes. “I told him that last night. I said goodbye to him. I cut him off. I told him I’ve lost the love of my life because of his poison, his influence… his vice. I told him it’s on him. He made me believe a woman like you would never want me and I thought that was true. I didn’t know that all the rottenness that came out of his mouth couldn’t be further from the truth. You have loved me. You’ve shown me how it can be. You’ve shown me it can be so good. You’ve shown me what I’m capable of… what I can achieve. You’ve injected a lot of good into me and I am not the man I was before. I’m different now. So different.”
My chin falls to my chest and slaver leaves me, I can’t even breathe as pain takes hold of me, so strong, so powerful, my chest empty, my heart wrecked. It’s beyond sad that we can’t make this work. We didn’t do any of it right. We’re not equipped. We’re not strong enough to bring a baby into the world together. Maybe I could have done it on my own, but if I’d had to look down at my baby and always see him, it would have been a constant reminder that someone I once loved more than myself could hurt me in such a way as to make me question myself, over and over, as if it was me who did something wrong, when it wasn’t. Paul made me feel dirty, he made me feel used, he made me feel worthless and unloved. He made me feel dead inside. No amount of anything can ever erase any of that. It happened. We can’t undo it. It’s had its effect. My trust is crippled because of it. I even nearly turned down this job, worried he’d be getting back to bad habits while I’m at work late.
“You killed the hope I had left, Paul,” I mumble, still struggling for breath, my heart dying in my chest.
“I wish I could go back in time, but I can’t. I want to beg for your forgiveness. I want us to start fresh. I want us to have a proper engagement, a proper wedding. I want us to travel and laugh, eat meals on all the different continents, buy a home together, rais
e a family eventually. I don’t want us to hate one another. I love you. I always have. I always will. If you want me to beg, I will. I don’t want to lose you. These past few weeks have opened my eyes. I’m different. I can be different.”
“Says the man who went out drinking last night as I passed our baby out of my body, all alone, with nobody here to comfort me.”
He comes towards me, fright in his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. “If you can tell me there’s just one tiny ounce inside you that can see past all this… one tiny bit, I’ll take that and work with it, I promise. Please.”
I lift my face and look right into his eyes. “Your brand of love has only ever caused me pain. If you can promise me you’ll never cause me pain again, then stay, or else, go. Leave. If you truly love me, leave. If you don’t want to hurt me anymore, go. Love shouldn’t hurt. It should only heal. If you’ve healed, I’m thankful, but it’s come at the cost of my hurt, my significant pain over the past year and a half, since the Christmas you just fucked off.”
“I didn’t. I came to see you at your parents’ house. You threw me out.”
“I had a lot to contend with then… a three-year relationship that had just ended! A whole part of my life suddenly gone. Then, there was shame. Doubt. Self-disgust. And the clear signal from you that you weren’t interested in a relationship and probably never would be.”
“Lily—”
“You should have fought for me that day, when you came to see me. You shouldn’t have left. You should’ve looked harder and seen the truth. That I’m delicate, I hurt. I come off strong but I’m vulnerable, I’m tender-hearted. I want a man to take me and love me and for none of that other bullshit to be involved. Just love. That’s all I want.”
“Yeah, so why did you ever go out with Ian? I’ll tell you something. Do you know what I was worried about? I was worried that you were only interested in me because I was a bad boy like him and that I was going to let you down just as bad. That’s why I kept walking away. I thought you were better off without me. I still believe that, but I also love you so much and can’t stand the thought of losing you. It makes me feel physically ill thinking about never cooking you breakfast again or listening to you ranting after work. I don’t want anyone else to wash my pants, you buy the best wash powder and it smells the best. I don’t want anyone in my arms ever again because nobody will ever feel as good as you. No woman out there is as good, as kind, as strong and as beautiful as you. I just want time, Lily. That’s all I want. Time… to make this right. We can do it. Say you’ll give me a chance. Say that there’s even an ounce of you that wants to get past this and we’ll try. Please… Lily, please,” he begs, starting to cry and tug at his hair.
I close my eyes and search my mind, which is screaming for me to end this, move on and never think of him ever again. My heart, however has other ideas.
“I’ll think about it; I need some rest,” I demand, because I feel like a truck ran over me backwards.
He leaves the room, nodding his head. “I’ll be out here if you need anything.”
He shuts the door and walks away. I’m starting to feel my eyes fall when I hear the vibrating of a phone. Mine’s switched to silent…
I discover his phone must have slipped out of his pocket and onto the bed while he was trying to persuade me to stay.
I look at the lock screen and there’s a new message, from someone called Kelly. It reads: Sorry to hear you’re ill today, bummer! Will miss you at work. Kel x
I try to bust my way into his phone, guessing the six-digit code. I use his date of birth, mine, but neither works. I try a few simple combinations and they don’t work. I’m told I have one more try before the phone requires a fingerprint.
I remember I once did watch him open the phone and the beginning of the code was 24. It can’t be, can it? I plug in the date we first fucked. I’m in.
I search his messages, trying to find something. Scrolling through his convo with this Kelly, it all seems professional and nothing dodgy. Perhaps she has a crush on him, but he wouldn’t let it develop into more, would he?
I don’t know.
I scroll further and further back, to messages from months and months ago. He changed his number but saved old messages to the phone memory? I get to the couple of contacts he hasn’t put in his phonebook; all I can see are their numbers, not their names.
Bad boy, what would you do to me, then?
Fuck you until you cream down my cock.
And after?
Smear it all over your face.
It’s pretty much the same sort of thing between him and these two unnamed people… and the point is, he’s kept their messages.
I feel cold inside, dead almost, and I don’t think I care anymore for him and his lies.
I don’t trust him. I might never be able to.
He comes into the room unannounced, finding me holding his phone.
He looks from me to the phone, as though he’s been busted. He has always kept that thing on him at all times and can’t be without it.
“You can leave. Send your brothers later for your stuff. I don’t want to see you ever again.”
I keep my eyes trained on my lap and he edges away, taking his phone with him.
Strangely as the door shuts behind him, I feel unburdened, I feel freed of this charade… this false romance.
He’s only ever wanted one thing from women and that’s for them to be his slag. Well, I’m much more than that. I want to be fucked and loved as much as any woman, but I also want to be respected, ultimately, and he doesn’t and never did respect me.
I’m tired of holding up weaker people all the time. I was only ever a fantasy to him, not a real person, otherwise he would have treated me so much better.
Now, it’s time for me.
Fuck you, Paul Barton.
Fuck you.
To be continued…
The Bad Series continues with
BAD ACTOR
Available NOW!
Turn the pages for a preview…
Thank You
I really hope you enjoyed this book and that you will visit Amazon or Goodreads to show it some love with a review. What I can promise you as this series progresses is that you will be hooked, shocked and surprised as we venture further into these people’s lives.
I wrote these books to be binged, to be enjoyed, to be devoured and re-read as you come to discover more and more about everyone involved.
I promise a journey you will never forget.
Sarah x
Bad Actor – A Preview
Morose. Difficult. Dark. These are just a few of the words people would use to describe me. My friends don’t call me out on it; they’ve known me too long; have got used to it, you could say. It’s only the new people I meet who reflect this mortal wound I carry, their eyes saying more than they’re brave enough to speak – that I’m difficult to be around; that it’s not normal for someone to wear this wound like a badge, that it shouldn’t be left to fester, but should be healed, in the way all humans should find peace, if they only might seek it.
I’m cursed, you see, to only ever love one woman. It’s been years now, too many to count. Nobody knows. Not a single soul. I carry this curse alone. The woman I love… she loves someone else. She always has, perhaps she always will.
I walk this world alone. I’ll die alone, probably.
I seek dark roles as an actor but even the darkest roles I bring too much darkness to, according to all the casting agents.
I’m trapped, unable to escape my moribund prison because I can’t help myself. This love… I’m endlessly enslaved by… I’m living because of it, but also dying of it.
Will I ever tell her I adore her? That to be in her presence is to feel the sun on my face. To know she’s safe is life; to hear her voice occasionally fills my veins with energy enough to keep me alive – this rollercoaster ongoing but oh so worth it for the slight detours.
I’ve felt sick with love for so
long, I know nothing else. It’s normal now.
I’ll never stop loving her.
I’ve told no-one.
I can’t.
She’s my best friend.
I’ve acted my arse off so she doesn’t know, but the truth is, everyone breaks eventually, don’t they?
The day I almost, almost lost my shit… at Adam and Susan’s wedding…
That fuck was going around, bragging to the guys he’d had her and was going to have her again if he had his way. How he talked about her… made me feel nauseous beyond imagination. I was sick with hatred. He spoke of her like she’s nothing more than a piece of meat to him, yet he doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her. And yet she loves him. I’ve always known it.
But what can I do?
Step in and tell him to shut his mouth? Incite suspicion… break the bro code?
I mean, nobody even believes in that anymore. Adam’s chosen his wife over everyone else. Tom’s chosen his career over everyone else. I’ve chosen to keep my secret from everyone else. We don’t live by that code – not anymore.
But to even give him the impression that I love her, that would be ammunition… or fuel… or worse, it might make her pull away from me.
One thing I’ve always known, anyway…
People like Paul Barton always get found out, and once he does, I’ll be ready.
I can never be her first love and I won’t be her most regretful liaison.
I want to be her last love… her true love…
The one she marries.
She needs time to realise I’m here, always have been, always will be.
How much time? I don’t know.
Will the day come when she turns to me and asks me to love her?
I don’t know. I just do not know.
Keep in Touch
Bad Friends Page 16
