“What was that?” he asks, a little dazed.
“I don’t know.” I start toward the flat to investigate, and just make it into the kitchen when Jack comes crashing through from the lounge. I skid to a stop, shocked by the sight of him. He looks manic, his eyes wild. He stares at me, his chest puffing under his jacket, his shirt hanging from his trousers, his waistcoat undone and the knot of his tie halfway down his torso. He looks a wreck, and when his focus moves and centers on something behind me, his jaw tensing to snapping point, I know he’s seen I have company.
I fear Jack might explode at any second and lash out at my guest. I can’t allow that.
I turn to Tom. “I’m sorry; I think it’s best you leave.” I take his wineglass from his hand and set it to the side, not liking the scowl he has pointed at Jack.
“Who’s this?” Tom asks, keeping his eyes on the deranged-looking man in the doorway of my kitchen. I hear Jack draw breath and wait for him to say something, but nothing comes. What can he say? That he’s the married man who’s fucking me?
“A friend,” I say, taking Tom’s arm. “I’ll see you out.” Leading him toward the kitchen door, I look at Jack, my jaw as tight as his. He moves from our path, his nostrils flaring aggressively as we pass. I can see it’s taking everything in him not to lunge at Tom and beat the shit out of him.
“I’m not sure I’m cool with leaving you alone with him,” Tom says as we reach the front door. It’s open, with splinters of wood hanging off around the lock.
I shake my head to myself. “He’s not that type,” I mumble meekly, trying to smile.
“I don’t think your front door would agree.” Tom points at the mangled wood with a frown.
I’m feeling so remorseful for putting him in this position. “I’m so sorry about this.”
“An ex?” Tom asks, eyebrow high, and I just nod, because what the hell else can I say? “I don’t think he’s over you,” he laughs. “I hope you sort it out.” His sincerity triples my remorse. Leaning down, he gives me a peck on the cheek. “Bear me in mind if you don’t, though, yeah?”
I reach up and give his arm a squeeze. “Thanks for the drinks and the chat.”
“No problem. See ya, Annie.”
I push the door closed repeatedly, but the latch won’t click into place. The damage is extensive: chunks of wood missing, some on the floor. He kicked the door in? He actually kicked the door in and steamrolled through my house like he had some right to stake a claim on me?
I march back to the kitchen and find him leaning against the wall, his head back, his breathing still heavy, his fists clenching. When he hears me enter, he pushes himself away and looks at me, a definite twist to his lip.
“Where’s Stephanie?” I ask, matching his threatening stance.
“I don’t give a fucking shit!” he bellows, knocking me back a few paces as he straightens and points at me. “I don’t care how unreasonable it sounds, you will not see other men! How the fuck could you do this to me?”
How could I do this to him? How could I do this to him? “You selfish arsehole!” I swipe the wineglass off the worktop, sending it sailing across the kitchen and crashing into the wall. The shattering of glass rings through the air, echoing forever. “Do you think I enjoyed listening to you and her earlier?”
Jack’s neck retracts on his shoulders, his eyes wide and wary. “You listened to us?”
“In the toilets at the gallery!” I scream. “You couldn’t even wait until you got home to fuck her!” I have to cover my ears to try to ease the recurring sounds in my head. I feel Jack’s hands wrap around my wrists, trying to pull my hands away. “Don’t touch me!” I fight him, disturbed and hysterical, crying uncontrollably.
“Annie, for fuck’s sake!” His attempts to calm me become more forceful as he flings me around and locks my hands behind my back, thrusting my front into the wall. He presses his body into me to hold me in place, his breathing shot like mine. “Calm down.”
His tall frame pressing me into the wall might be stopping me from escaping, but it doesn’t stop me from shaking uncontrollably, rivers of tears streaming down my cheeks. “Go,” I sob. “Just go.”
“I’m going nowhere,” he vows, moving his hold of my wrists and locking them in one of his hands. I close my eyes, looking for the darkness to match my world, but I can’t prevent the bawls of despair from ripping through me. Jack waits for my sobs to subside before he speaks, keeping me restrained. “I took her in there to calm down, Annie. She was falling all over the place, getting louder and louder, more offensive and rude.”
“I heard her moaning and you fucking growling. She was telling you to take her dress off. Did you? Did you take her fucking dress off, Jack?”
He spins me around, keeping my hands behind my back with his, pressed into the wall. The scruff on his jaw is rolling in waves of anger. “She was trying to get my clothes off. She was drunk, Annie. All I did was fight her the fuck off of me. I wasn’t growling, I was whispering because I could hear someone had come in the fucking ladies’!”
I push the back of my head into the wall, trying to escape the bullets of fury shooting from his angry eyes.
“Are you hearing me?” he roars in my face. “Are you fucking listening to what I’m telling you?”
I nod, my chin trembling, my face stinging.
“If you had been in that bathroom a few more minutes, you would have heard the row. You would have seen me storm out of there. You would have seen Stephanie slap a waitress for apparently staring at my arse.”
I gulp down my horror, unable to be relieved or grateful. “What?”
He laughs sardonically. “Oh yes, she put on an epic performance tonight.”
“You should have told me,” I whisper.
“You didn’t give me the chance.” Jack closes his eyes, his body going lax against me, and then he moves away, pulling his shirt up, turning away from me. My hand covers my mouth when I see the state of his back: red, raw, and throbbing. I’m horrified.
“Every time I look at her, Annie,” he says quietly, “I see the threat in her eyes. She knows I’ve already left her in my head.” His teeth audibly grind as he drops his shirt and turns to face me, his gray eyes opening and boring into my wide ones. “She’s not going to make this easy for me, even without knowing about you.”
I sniffle, feeling crippling guilt. He’s going through this alone—being faced with Stephanie and her manipulation every day, and I’ve buried my head in the sand.