Chapter 17 Robyn
“WHAT THE FUCK!?”
Jack and I bolt upright at the sound of the high-pitched shriek that fills my ears. Snatching the black silk sheet around my naked body, I look at my mother’s shocked expression as she stands in the doorway of her and Jack’s marital bedroom.
Shock and wide eyes stare back at me from the entrance of the bedroom as my mother stands there, stock still, her hand squeezing the handle so harshly her knuckles and fingertips have turned a stark white.
I know I should feel some kind of regret, that I should be apologetic from my actions…
but I’m not. There’s nothing either of us could say right now that wouldn’t be a lie.
It was an accident.
Lie.
We didn’t mean to.
Lie.
We’re sorry.
Also a lie.
It doesn’t mean anything.
The biggest lie of all.
Throwing the covers back, I get out of bed, wearing nothing but Jack’s oversized T-shirt—the one I’ve become addicted to wearing—and stare at her from the opposite end of the room.
“ROBYN!?” she screeches again, the resonance so loud I’m pretty sure it woke up all the animals in a ten-mile radius. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?”
“It’s a little obvious, don’t you think?” I chuckle dryly.
“Jack!” She snaps her head in his direction. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is!?”
“Well, Mom,” I answer on his behalf. “Considering you cheated first… I’d say this is exactly what you think it is.”
“HE’S MY HUSBAND, ROBYN!” Her shrill scream makes me wince, the skin on her face and neck covered in red blotchy patches of rage. “THIS IS FUCKING SICK! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH BOTH OF YOU!?”
Jack grumbles irritably as he jumps from the bed in nothing but his boxers and as he stalks towards my mother, he simultaneously grabs last night’s clothes before edging her away from the door with his chest.
He glances over his shoulder at me. “Get dressed.” I say nothing as he closes the door behind him. The sound of my mother screaming and shouting from the hallway dissipates as I’m assuming she follows him away from the bedroom.
Great, just great.
They’ve been arguing downstairs for what feels like hours, but it’s only been thirty minutes at most, and seeing how sound travels in this house I’ve heard every single word she’s said about me.
None of it good either which doesn’t surprise me, she’s never had a nice word to say about me since I was a child so I’m not shocked in the slightest.
What does take me by surprise though, is the way in which Jack is fighting for me.
Defending me and countering every nasty thing my mother says about me…
about us, and completely going to bat for me.
But it still doesn’t change the fact that regardless of whether my mother caught us or not… this is still over.
I’m still leaving.
My phone chimes in my hand and I look down at the notifications as they pop up on my screen, one telling me my ride has just pulled up at the gates. I specifically told the driver not to drive through them, and that I’ll make my way to him.
I stand up from the edge of the bed—that now has a permanent ass print etched into the memory foam mattress—and slide the strap of my bag onto my shoulder, before lifting the suitcase with my other hand.
They’re arguing so much I don’t want to draw any further attention to myself by dragging my suitcase along the floor by its wheels.
So as carefully as I can, I make my way downstairs in silence, their raised voices and my mother’s vile insults towards me only echoing louder the closer I get to the front door.
This was going to end at some point, Robyn, you know that.
But what if—
No.
Shaking those thoughts away and as cautiously as I can, I slowly twist the handle of the front door and walk out into the cold Denver air, closing it behind me.
I stand the suitcase upright and yank the extractable handle up and drag it behind me as I walk down the pathway towards the wrought iron gates I came through four days ago.
I smile at the driver as he gets out the car and waves in my direction, but the sound of the front door opening and closing behind me gives me pause.
“Robyn, wait!” Jack calls, but I choose to ignore him. This is the only way. I can’t stay here, I can’t make him choose me. I won’t. “I said stop!”
And I do.
I almost stumble over my feet at the speed in which his voice carries the order. Closing my eyes, I take the deepest of breaths to steady my heavily beating heart and open my eyes to stare up at him just as he comes to stand in front of me. Praying silently I can hold my emotions in.
“What are you doing?” The space between his eyebrows creases.
“Leaving. Isn’t it obvious?” I smirk.
“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t brush this” —he dances his hand back and forth between us— “off like it means nothing.” Stepping closer to me he cups my face in his warm hands. “St—”
Rising up on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his and cut him off half way through the word I know he’s going to ask of me. “I can’t, you know that. We both do. You… have a lot to deal with right now.” He knows I’m right, that’s why he doesn’t say anything to counter my previous statement.
I kiss him again as a final goodbye. The tip of his tongue slides along the seam of my lips and I gladly open up for him, swirling my tongue with his in a kiss far more heated than the one from last night.
Telling him in the only way I know how that I wish I could, that I do feel the same, but that right now…
it can’t happen. Jack has far too much going on, and him dealing with his marriage to my mother is more important than me leaving.
Him getting his life in order is the main priority, regardless of how we feel about each other.
The kiss is passionate, feral. Our lips saying all the things neither of us have the confidence to say right now, and when I pull back to end it, he drops his hands from my face defeatedly, standing up straight and placing his hands in the pockets of his black trousers.
“Where will you go?”
I look up at him with a soft smile. “LA. My friend lives there. I managed to book a last-minute flight while you were…” I shrug, cutting myself off. “So I guess I’ll stay with her for a few days. Then head back to London.” He nods, and I can see the conflict in his eyes as silence falls between us.
“Bye, Jack.”
“Goodbye, Robyn.”
I walk around him and continue making my way to the taxi, refusing to look back. It’s only when I get in the car and the driver pulls away from the gates, that I allow the first tear to fall.