Apparently, I am talking to myself.
“Argghh! Never!” I snap, my head finally popping. “Because there is nothing to tell! I saw Will on the day you flew over to London after your dad had died. I’d gone into work in the morning to see Vicky before you were due to arrive. When I left the building, I bumped into Will outside. He’d seen me go in work and waited for me to leave. He just wanted to talk to me. I thought it was the least I could do after what I’d done to him. We went to Callo’s for a coffee. We talked. I cried. He held my hand because I was sad that I’d hurt him. It was good of him after what I’d done. We left Callo’s. He hugged me goodbye outside. And then we went our separate ways and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”
Jake is staring at me, but it’s like he’s seeing through me. His pupils are wide and dilated, and I’m wondering if he just heard a word I said.
“So why didn’t you just tell me you’d seen him that day?” His voice sounds a little calmer.
I almost exhale with relief that my words are finally sinking in and this conversation is seemingly nearly over with. The downside – next I have to broach the subject of his very apparent drug use.
“Because your dad had just died and I knew it would upset and stress you out. You don’t see straight when it comes to Will, baby. I was going to tell you when things had calmed down, but then the story hit the news about your dad … what happened that night and there’s just never been a right time since.”
Because you’re using drugs again.
His face darkens. “So you just thought you’d keep lying to me instead?!”
Here we go again. He’s up and down like a goddamn yoyo, and I am so absolutely done with his crap.
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Don’t you dare, Jake, don’t you bloody dare,” I point an angry finger at him.
“What? I’ve never lied to you.”
“Um no? Sorry, just when exactly was it you told me that you’d started using drugs again?”
He stares evenly at me. “I’m not using.” He frowns. Then he rubs his nose.
“Sure you’re not. So let me get this straight.” I press my fingertips to my forehead. “It’s not okay for me to hold something back – like having a coffee with Will, to try and spare your feelings at a terrible point in your life, but it is okay for you to break promises and lie to me about using drugs. Good to know how we roll Jake,” I add sarcastically.
“I’m not using drugs.” He frowns again, and little crease forms between his brows.
I lean back against the table and fold my arms across my chest. “Please don’t insult me. I know.”
“You don’t know anything because I’m not using.”
“Don’t lie to me!” I cry, staring him down, as I straighten up. “I want to know when it started and exactly what it is you’re using?”
“I’m not–”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” I yell. “I’m not stupid!”
“Yeah like I’m not stupid about what’s been going on behind my back with you and Will.”
I laugh. I actually laugh at his audacity. “Don’t try turning this back on me because it’s not going to wash. Tell me what you’re using? If you don’t, I’m walking out that door and I’m never coming back.” I ensure to keep my voice steady to let him know I mean it.
He lets out a light sigh. Stepping back, he leans up against the wall and pushes his hands through his hair.
“Just a bit of coke,” he says evenly, shrugging.
Even though I knew, it still pains me to hear. And I feel a corner of my heart chip away.
“Oh no, Jake,” I shake my head despairing. “What were you thinking?”
“I’ve got it under control.”
“You know for smart successful guy – you are a complete bloody idiot at times!”
“Tru…”
“No, Jake, seriously this isn’t right. Where are they?” My eyes are scanning the room.
“What?”
“The drugs, Jake! Where are they?”
“There isn’t any here.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
I start moving around the room, tossing cushions, pulling drawers out, searching the room like a woman possessed.
Where would an addict keep their drugs? Think, Tru. Think.
Then I remember him being in the bathroom this morning, and it clicks with something I saw in a film once.
I rush into the bedroom and head straight toward the ensuite bathroom. Jake is fast on his feet behind me, and that’s when I know I’m heading to the right place.
I beat him there, and pull the lid off the cistern. And there it is, sitting on top of a pipe.
A small bag of white powder.
Cocaine, I’m guessing.
Picking it up, holding it between my fingers, I turn to him.
His face is ashen.
My whole body is shaking with anger and fear. Fear mostly.
I hold the bag of cocaine up in front of me. “How long?”
He looks down, away from me.