“You stupid girl,” she says tenderly, her voice broken with emotion. “Part of me is so happy that you’ve found a man you’re so in love with, and the other part of me is full of dread for you.”
I swallow on a nod of understanding, feeling exactly the same. Micky audibly sighs and comes over, wrapping his big arms around both of us. “My brain is officially pink,” he mutters, kissing each of our heads in turn. “For fuck’s sake.”
A mild cough interrupts us, and our little crowd breaks up. “I didn’t want to interrupt,” Jack says.
“You’d better be there for her,” Micky warns harshly.
Jack doesn’t retaliate, and he doesn’t look insulted that Micky’s more or less threatening him. I hold back from telling my friends that I need to be there for him, too. “I will be,” Jack answers, not wavering at all.
“And if you break her heart, I swear I’ll kill you.”
“There’ll be no need,” Jack counters coolly, turning his calm gray eyes onto me. “If I hurt her, I’ll kill myself before you can get to me.”
I hear Micky’s small hitch of surprised breath, and I bite my lip as silence falls. There’s nothing left to be said. Lizzy nudges Micky from his staring deadlock with Jack, pulling him out of the kitchen. “I’ll call you in the morning,” Lizzy says, so obviously torn by today’s revelations.
Jack moves from their path and nods respectfully as they pass, and once the front door closes, he turns to me, his hands deep in his trouser pockets, his face grave. It’s all becoming so real now. “You okay?”
I nod, but my emotions don’t agree and I crumple once again, unable to process what just happened. Jack crosses the room in a few easy strides and pulls me in for a needed cuddle, holding me tightly, hushing me and kissing my hair. “We’ll be okay,” he says, trying to appease me. “I promise.”
I hang on to his words like they are all I have, praying that he is right while physically hanging on to him, too. I feel drained of energy already. My lack of fight doesn’t sit well. My strength is going to be tested to the limit. I can only hope it doesn’t break me.
Breathing in deeply, Jack gives me one last squeeze before cradling me in his arms and carrying me to my bedroom. He lays me on the bed, then disappears momentarily to collect all of the pillows and the duvet from the lounge. Once he’s put a pillow under my head and stripped both of us down, he crawls in, forcing me onto my side, and covers us up. The length of his body curls around mine perfectly. “Every time I leave you, it hurts, Annie. I’m climbing the walls, getting myself all worked up because I don’t know how long it will be before I can be with you again. I can’t go on like this.” He kisses the back of my head, pulling me closer.
We’re locked together.
Sheltered from the outside world. Protected from what is to come.
“No matter what happens, what she does to me or to herself,” he whispers in my ear, “I’m leaving her tomorrow.”
Chapter 23
The wretchedness that engulfs me when I open my eyes could knock me unconscious again if I allow it. Jack’s gone. I roll over and stare at the pillow where his head lay last night, the warmth of his body locked against mine still lingering. My hand slides up the sheets onto the pillow, feeling the warmth there, too, telling me it’s not been long since he left. The needy side of me hates him for slipping out without waking me. But the sensible side of me knows he did what was best. I don’t think I could have let him go. He’s telling her today.
It would be easy to hide under my bedcovers all day, but I whip them off and get out of bed. I see a note propped up against the lamp on the bedside table. I take it between two fingers and read.
Don’t go anywhere x
He doesn’t mean literally, like not to leave my apartment. He means from his life. I bring the paper to my nose and inhale, silently promising him that I won’t. Then I slide it back onto the bedside cabinet and wander through my apartment, intent on getting some coffee before I shower and get on with my day. My plan is simple: lock myself in my studio all day and lose myself in work.
After I’ve thrown on some ripped jeans, my U2 T-shirt, and flip-flops, I make my way into my office and sit at my desk. And I stare at the blank screen. Forever. I twiddle my pen for ten minutes and then doodle on some paper. I start at least ten e-mails and try to answer another twenty. I doodle some more and finally throw my pen down, wedging my elbows against my desk and letting my face fall into my hands. This isn’t going to work. I grab my laptop and case, throw a scarf around my neck, and dial Lizzy on my way out the door. She answers within two rings. “Hey,” she greets me, subdued.
“Hey,” I parrot, hitting the pavement. “How are you?” I ask, for lack of anything else to say. It’s obviously strained between us, and I hate it.
“I didn’t sleep much,” she openly admits. “Nat popped around for an hour. She was asking after you.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No. That’s not my place, Annie. And I might not like this, but I fully appreciate the sensitivity of it. Your secret is safe with me.”
I reach the main road, my eyes closing briefly, ashamed. She makes what’s between Jack and me sound sordid, and I can’t argue with that. “Thank you.”
“Where are you?”
“Heading for Starbucks.”
“Already? It’s eight on a Sunday morning.”
“I needed to get out,” I admit, not holding back. “Jack’s telling Stephanie it’s over today. I don’t know when, but I can’t sit around at home all day thinking about it.”
“I see,” she says flatly. “Is he telling her about you?”
“No.”
“So what does he plan on saying, then? She’ll want a reason.”
I look down at my feet, hating her coldness, but knowing I can’t expect anything more. She may have hugged me when I broke down last night, but that wasn’t a sign that she would go full-force into happiness for me. “There were cracks in their marriage before me, Lizzy,” I say, my voice quivering.
“Of course there were, Annie. There would have to be for Jack to look elsewhere.”
“He wasn’t looking,” I argue, not with any malice, but as firmly as I can muster.
“Whatever. My point is, many marriages have cracks, but when you take your vows, you promise for better or for worse. You forsake all others.”
I come to a stop on the street. “Is there a vow that states it’s acceptable to physically hurt each other? Do they make you promise to never scratch your husband or cuff his face?”
She doesn’t answer, and I sigh.
“Lizzy, I didn’t call you to hear this.”
“And I didn’t take your call to pump you full of reassurance,” she retorts, making me wince. It also brings more tears to my eyes. I brush at them harshly, trying not to sniff and snivel so she can hear my sadness. I’m not looking for sympathy; I’m just looking for my friend. And I don’t think she’s here anymore.