He laughs, low and sarcastically. “How the hell am I going to do that?”
I wilt when I realize he can’t, and it’s mighty unreasonable for me to expect him to. “I was so looking forward to tonight.” I instantly regret letting my thoughts speak. This isn’t his fault. I shouldn’t be making him feel guilty.
“I know, Annie. I know. She mentioned you ran into each other.”
“Outside my apartment,” I confirm. “She was picking your suit up from the dry cleaners.” I motion down his gray three-piece with my wineglass. “Looks nice, by the way.”
He smiles mildly. “You look beautiful, and I can’t even fucking touch you.” His eyes burn into mine, so much hunger clouding them. “I need to see you later. Tell me I can see you later.”
“How?” I ask. “You’re with your wife.” I don’t mean to sound resentful, but the truth of it is, I am.
“I’ll find a way,” he promises.
“Now’s not the time to become careless, Jack,” I warn. “Richard knows, and if we’re not careful, your wife will soon figure it out, too.”
“I need to see you,” he grates, daring me to deny him with his hard stare. “Just answer your phone when I call.” He breaks away, slapping a smile on his face.
“There you are!” Stephanie croons, slipping her arm through Jack’s when she joins us. “Talking boring work?”
“As always,” Jack confirms, looking down at her glass. It’s empty again.
“Well, enough of that.” She turns her full body into him and places her lips on his cheek. I vomit in my own mouth, my stomach churning terribly. “You need to show your wife a good time.”
My phone chimes in my hand, and I rip my eyes away from the unbearable sight of another woman all over the man I love. “Excuse me,” I murmur, heading back into the gallery as I read Lizzy’s text. I’m going to get so drunk.
I find Colin, thank him and make my excuses, not prepared to allow his evident disappointment make me feel too guilty. He holds on to me, tempting me with more fizz, but I stand firm, not letting him succeed in persuading me to stay a bit longer. Nothing would convince me to.
I head to the toilet to freshen up my lipstick, and as I enter the ladies’ the first thing I see is myself in the mirror. I look as terrible as I feel. Pale and traumatized. Bracing my hands on the edge of the stone vanity unit, I breathe in, trying to give myself a pep talk.
Bang!
My eyes shoot past my reflection to the row of stalls, scanning from side to side, listening carefully. What was that?
Bang!
Sounds of shuffles and whispers come from beyond the door of the far stall, and I force myself into stillness, or I try to. My heart isn’t listening to my silent demand to pipe down.
Then the hushed whispers turn into low moans. My blood freezes, the sounds working their way into my brain and cementing themselves there, making sure I’ll never forget them.
Stephanie’s moans.
Moans of ecstasy and pleasure. “Take my dress off,” she pants. “Take it off now, Jack.”
My stomach convulses and I double over, physically retching over the sink. Then the shouts start. “Oh, Jack! Yes. Take me here. Take me now.”
“Stephanie,” Jack growls.
I run out of the ladies’, the combination of heaves from my nausea and body jerks from the instant tears making me stumble and trip as I go. I feel like I could vomit. Panicked and knowing there’s no way I can go back in the ladies’, I fly into the disabled toilet and slam it shut, bracing my hands on the toilet as I try to regulate my breathing. I feel lightheaded and dizzy. I feel sick and betrayed.
A hopeless sob pours free, and I clench my head to try and crush the tormenting sound that’s looping on repeat in my head. “No,” I sob, falling apart, my body racked with ragged emotions. I have to leave. Now.
I wrench the door open and run out of the gallery, and I don’t stop until I reach the end of the road. I flag down the first taxi and dive in. I’m going to find the girls and I’m going to drink myself into oblivion. I hope it’s enough to take me away from this nightmare. I’ve never ventured there. I’ve not allowed my mind to, but when it’s screwing behind a door in front of you, it’s hard to ignore. I feel hurt. Totally devastated. And fury is burning a hole in my sensibility. I can’t stop it.
Chapter 18
Here she is!” Lizzy shouts as I wander into the champagne bar, spotting them all perched on tall stools around a bar table. Micky waves me over, pointing to a stool with a glass of wine on the table in front of it. “Good boy, Micky,” I praise him, landing on my seat with a thud.
“You okay?” he asks, giving me a once-over. I don’t know how good a job I did of fixing my face in the cab, but I’m guessing even with perfect makeup right now, my distress would still be detectable.
“I’m fine,” I say, holding up a hand to halt Lizzy when she goes to speak. She snaps her mouth shut on a pout and watches as I gulp my wine. “Just fine,” I repeat, slamming my glass down.
Nat, Micky, and Lizzy all regard me carefully for a moment. “Fine.” I breathe in and out, in and out.
“She’s fine,” Lizzy says slowly, nodding her head at me. “You sure?”
I nod back. “Just an arsehole taxi driver.”
Lizzy rolls her eyes. “So let’s get my news out of the way.” She sits up straight, and everyone else at the table looks at her. She begins to fidget. “Well,” she begins, focusing on her wineglass. “I have something to tell you all, but before I do I want to make it clear that I’ve thought long and hard about it and I’d appreciate your support.”
We all noticeably sit back on our stools, and I look to each of my friends, trying to figure out their thought processes. They look intrigued, like me.
“I’m back with Jason,” she blurts out before scooping up her drink and downing the lot, shrinking on her stool.
Realization dawns on me. “That’s who you were meeting for dinner!” I say. “Jason.” No wonder she’s been so cagey.
She shrugs. “I agreed to meet him, yes. I didn’t see the point in mentioning it because I thought I’d tell him to be on his way and that would be that. But seeing him again, seeing how guilty he feels… I love him.” She shrugs. “You can’t turn that off.”
When the atmosphere becomes unbearably awkward, I dive right in and reach across the table, taking her hand. “Do what makes you happy,” I say, wholeheartedly meaning it.
Tears of relief flood her eyes and her lips press together to the point that they’re white. She can’t speak, bless her, so she nods in return. I feel terrible for her. I saw how cut up she was when she found out about Jason’s affair, and I damned the woman who’d walked uninvited into her life. A woman like me.