Chapter 28 #3
Ash caught him in a kiss, which Olly drank in deeply. Agnes’s chest squeezed. It was so gentle. So untouchable.
She sat up as Ash moved around the bed towards her. He hesitated as he reached her side. She reached out, taking his hand.
‘Try not to be away all day.’
His fingers were rough and warm. ‘I will try.’
He lingered there, as if unsure. Then he let her go, heading for the door.
She watched him leave, feeling an old ache in her chest. She pushed it away.
She did not need to feed it. She went to lie back down, to hide beneath the bedclothes for a little while longer, when she noticed Olly awake and wide-eyed.
‘Olly?’ She shuffled closer. He looked as if he were on the verge of tears. She reached out towards him. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
‘I cannot— I—’ Olly’s voice cracked. ‘I cannot continue like this.’
Agnes stilled. ‘Like what?’
‘Like— like this, waiting for it all to crumble.’
Anxiety wrapped around Agnes’s lungs. ‘Waiting for what to crumble? Olly—’
‘You love him.’
Agnes went still. Her heart was in her throat. ‘What?’
Olly sat up, blankets falling away. ‘Ash. Your husband. You love him.’
Agnes’s mind was swirling. ‘I do not—’
‘Of course you do!’
Agnes’s eyes were burning. ‘I don’t see why that should matter,’ she said stubbornly.
‘Why would it not matter?’ Olly shot back.
‘Because he loves you!’
Her shout echoed from the stone walls. The sound of her own voice shocked her. She brought her hand to her mouth, as if she could push the words back in.
‘He loves you,’ Agnes muttered, inhaling sharply. ‘He loves you, and you he, and whatever my feelings … they do not matter. They cannot matter.’
She stared at him, hands trembling. She could not allow herself that feeling, could not indulge it, could not speak it aloud. She needed to ensure it did not exist.
‘Why not?’ Olly asked.
‘Because—’ She turned away from him, ashamed.
‘Because I could not put that burden upon Ash. We have always agreed, always, that ours was just an arrangement, nothing else. I will not ruin that agreement by being foolish.’ She spat out the last word like a curse.
‘I care for Ash, yes,’ she continued, now unable to stop.
‘And I care for— I like you, Olly. I do. I do not want to ruin what you have. I would never be able to forgive myself.’
She finally looked around, meeting Olly’s gaze. ‘My feelings are what they are. And our reality is what it is, too. So I must simply … wait.’
‘Wait?’
Agnes forced herself to smile. ‘It will pass.’
‘Agnes …’
‘I am sorry, Olly. I really am.’
He sighed. ‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ he said.
‘I have been so scared since I found Ash again. I have been terrified that he will realise he feels more strongly for you than he thinks, and that … that you will be the obvious choice. What if he comes to his senses and sends me away? What if he leaves me again?’
‘He did not leave you before.’
‘I struggle to remember that,’ he said. ‘After everything … sometimes it still feels like he may slip away.’
The bed felt very small. Agnes’s reason urged her to leave. The rest of her – her soul, her heart – wanted her to stay. A thought struck her, as she threaded the edge of the blanket through her fingers.
‘Oliver …’
Olly gave her a look. ‘I mistrust you calling me that.’
‘Last night,’ she said slowly. ‘Did you want that? Truly? I hate to think that we … that I … forced you into something you did not want.’
Olly looked a little surprised. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘No— Agnes, this you must believe: if I do not want to do something, I do not do it.’
‘And last night?’
‘I wanted it. Very much.’
‘But … but everything you said! About Ash and me, about my … my feelings, and your fears—’
‘Are apparently incomparable to the strength of my desire,’ Olly said, with a half-smile. ‘Believe me, I am well aware of my senselessness, where that is concerned.’
‘Do you want me to stop joining you?’
‘Do you wish to stop joining us?’
Agnes was ready to say yes. She ought to say yes. But she didn’t want to. She did not want to let it go, whatever it was.
Olly noticed her silence. He shuffled closer, until their shoulders rubbed. His naked skin was warm.
‘Do you?’ he repeated.
Agnes gripped the blanket tighter. When she looked up, he was watching her.
‘No.’ It came out on a breath. ‘I do not wish to stop. I … I enjoy what we have. What all of us have. I can barely understand it, but …’
‘But you want to explore it?’
Not for the first time, Agnes was reminded how astute Olly was.
‘I do. But not if it brings you pain. I will not do anything that makes you unhappy.’
‘There we are, then,’ Olly said, leaning back against the pillows with his arms above his head.
‘What?’
‘You wish to continue. As do I. And, I can only assume, so does Ash, given how willingly he partakes.’
‘But—’
‘Agnes.’ His voice was so suddenly stern that Agnes turned to face him without thinking. Before she could speak, he’d closed the tiny gap between them and was kissing her.
It was swift and short. Yet still her head was reeling when he released her.
‘You are like him,’ he breathed. ‘Too many worries.’
Agnes couldn’t speak, lips tingling. The cocksure look slid from his face.
‘Bollocks, Agnes, I should not have— Was that too much?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘No,’ she managed, pulling the word from her chest. ‘No, just … I feel a little guilty. What about Ash?’
Olly visibly relaxed. ‘I have kissed him plenty of times. He kissed you plenty last night.’
‘Only because you told him too,’ Agnes said bitterly.
‘Only the first time,’ Olly countered, grinning.
Agnes’s mind was at odds with itself. She wanted to find the route out, the sensible option, a way to untangle it all. The triple threads of she and Ash and Olly, interwoven and braided and knotted. The ropes of her family, the chains of Francis, the taut string of her freedom.
Perhaps the tangle was good. Perhaps there was no untying it, now. And perhaps … perhaps she did not want to.