Chapter 31 Fin
Chapter 31
Fin
“What are you doing sitting in the dark like a sad ball sack?”
I squint as Matt turns the light on in my office. It’s early evening and the shutters are drawn. I thought everyone had gone for the day. “I’m thinking,” I answer with a sigh.
“I wondered what that smell was.” He sniffs. “Like burning. You ought to oil those cogs before you use them. They get rusted up without use.”
“We’re talking about my brain, not your pipes. And if you must know, I’m avoiding going home.”
“You’ve only been married two minutes.”
“Feels a lot longer today.” But that’s a lie, even if it’s hard to remember a time before Mila was in my life. Mila, my maddening, stubborn wife. The reason I can’t bring myself to go home right now. I don’t want to fight with her again—I didn’t want to fight with her three fucking days ago! And now she’s so closed off. My stomach cramps, because I feel like we might be days away from her calling this whole thing off.
I counted on her wanting to stay. Counted on her needing me a little longer, which would give me time to get her to open up. For me to woo her. Time for her to see that I fucking love her!
Need. She doesn’t need me. I accused her of needing just the idea of me, the outward persona. Because that’s my fucking fear. Not that she heard it that way, given the pile of cash on the kitchen countertop this morning, a pink Post-it Note stuck to the top, which read:
The money i owe you for Roza’s nursing home.
I appreciate your help .
Fucking appreciates my help. I was glad to give it. But the note and the money felt like a big fuck you .
Three days of her not being around. Three days of her sleeping in another room.
It could be worse, I suppose. She might have gone back to her grandmother’s flat. Then I, rather than a security team, would be sitting outside it in a van.
I just want her to be safe. Happy. I want her to fucking love me!
In the periphery of my vision, I note Matt shaking his head.
“What?” I ask wearily.
“I was just wondering if I should call a chiropractor. Slunk low in the chair like that, you won’t be able to walk when you stand. Posture is important at your age.”
But I’m not in the mood for shit talking.
“I asked what’s changed, fuckhead.”
“Everything,” I mutter. “And nothing.”
Matt folds his arms. “Well, that’s helpful. Maybe you should wait until your hair grows and then get Josie to order you some frilly shirts. Maybe some quills and a pot of ink. Some parchment and shit. Better to look the part if you’re aiming for brooding romantic poet.”
“It’s not gonna work.”
“Not surprised. I’ve heard your limericks. Your poetry would be truly shite.”
“With Mila. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“What did you do?”
“Why does it have to be something I did?” I pull myself up straight in my chair. He’s right about my back, though I won’t admit it to him.
“Because you know how women work,” he says, making an awkward gesture. “But also, you don’t know how women work.”
“And you do?”
“I’ve got sisters.”
“As have I.”
“I’ve got more than you. I’ve also got a million female cousins, and I’m still as lost as the next fella when it comes to trying to work them out. But what I will say is we’ve all seen the way you look at Mila. And the way she looks at you. You used to be the last man standing at work dinners. Lately, you piss off home before dessert.”
“You might see a little more of me now, because you were right. I can’t make her love me. And I can’t get her to accept my love.”
“Have you tried? Told her you love her?”
I shake my head. “She isn’t interested in any declaration.” Worse, she’s actively avoiding me. If she’s not with her grandmother, she’s working. And if she’s not working, she’s clearing her grandmother’s flat. So much for making this work. So much for making things easier for her.
“ Controlling ,” my arse. Can’t she see that it’s love?
Matt’s brows hit his hairline. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”
I tip back my head and stare at the ceiling. “I told you. She isn’t interested.”
“Have you tried?”
“Of course I have.” Haven’t I?
“Well, can’t say I blame her.” Matt sniffs.
“Remind me not to come to you for sympathy.”
“No, I mean from what you said about her last fella. She’s gonna find it hard to trust anyone after the way he fucked her over. Maybe even confuse caring for control. Or who knows, maybe you confused one for the other ...” His words trail off, his expression bland.
“I’m not him,” I retort. “I’d never hurt her.”
“But how does she know that after all the shite that’s written about you on the internet?”
“Everyone knows it’s bullshit.”
“Ah,” he says, holding up a pondering finger. “Is it, though? You’ve been a mad shagger as long as I’ve known you.”
“Thanks.”
“If you’re different from her ex, you need to prove it to her. All the ways he fucked her over, you have to show her you’re not like that.”
“By not sticking my dick in other women? Too easy.”
“She was jilted, arsewipe. That’s going to throw anyone’s center off balance. Meanwhile, that fame chaser is telling the world Mila’s not good enough, that you’re still that mad shaggin’ man whoor.”
“You don’t read that Little Bird bullshit, do you?”
“Well, you obviously have. So much for the ‘I don’t give a fuck what people say about me,’ ” he retorts with a dismissive wave.
“I’m just keeping an eye on it. For litigation purposes.”
“Oh, aye. That’s bound to help,” he answers heavily.
“It might. It’s just inconsequential bullshit.”
“It’s easier for people to believe the bad, though. Especially if that’s been their experience.” He pauses for a beat to study me. “Have you done anything that might make her doubt or mistrust you?”
“No, I—” I would hardly give Machiavelli a run for his money. I might’ve manipulated one or two outcomes. But that’s not what I was doing when I suggested a house-clearing company, and she almost bit off my head. She called me controlling. And maybe it seemed that way, but ...
“You’re either a really bad liar or just relationship dumb.”
“I thought you came to help.”
“This is me helping!”
I rub my hand through my hair. “Can you just fuck off elsewhere? Please?”
But Matt just folds his arms and stretches out his legs. “Take Oliver. A shrewder fucker I’ve yet to meet. Every move he makes, he’s already calculated three possible outcomes and at least that many moves ahead. But look at the mess he made of things with Evie. That eejit ended up chasing her halfway across the world, taking himself off to a jungle where he could’ve easily been bitten by a snake or sold to rebels to be ransomed back to us piece by bloody piece.”
“I wouldn’t have paid,” I mutter.
“So I say again, what might you have done to make her mistrust you?”
“Nothing.”
“Apart from the shit you pulled with Evie, giving her ‘Mila’s business card.’” He encloses the final three words of his statement in physical speech marks.
“That wasn’t underhanded. I didn’t even know if Evie would bother looking her up.”
“Sure.” His expression twists. “You would’ve made some sign to Evie, and she would’ve gone off on one of her do-good quests like a terrier down a rabbit hole. She would’ve found out what her ex had done, and Bob’s your uncle—as well as your driver—and Mila is suddenly Evie’s wedding woman.”
“ Her wedding woman. Coordinator. Whatever. Nothing to do with me. Like I said, I just gave Evie Mila’s card.”
“And a hint. And that’s all it would’ve taken.”
“Stretching, Matt.”
“Is it, though?” He pulls a superior expression. “It put her in your path. The question is now, What are you gonna do to keep her there?”
I’m still pondering the question long after he’s left my office, when I pick up my phone. And do the opposite to his advice. It might look like another case of control, of manipulation, but it’s desperation that turns me mildly Machiavellian. Or so I tell myself as I make that call.
I might lose everything. But I’ll risk it all for her.