Chapter Nine
Beth
I’m still shaking when I arrive at the house.
I don’t have long, and I can’t afford to waste time ruminating.
But even so, I find myself standing outside for a moment.
The two-up, two-down house is tucked down a side street, small and compact because we couldn’t afford to rent anything else.
I did my best with it—I planted flowers in the small front garden and asked the landlord for permission to repaint the front door and the porch.
I’m fond of it because it was my first real home, and the thought of leaving makes my stomach flip.
I can’t think about that now. I have to go because I need time on my own to think.
I don’t have my own car. I did, but it was too expensive to run two cars, and so I sold mine, and Jude and I shared his.
I do have a bicycle, but I want to take more than a backpack with me, so I’ll have to pack a case and come back for the bike at a later date.
I force myself to go through the gate, unlock the door, and go inside.
Jude’s clearly been home. I’m constantly tidying up, but he only has to be here for ten minutes and the place looks like a tip again.
He drives me mad by leaving clothes, books, plates, sunglasses, and food wrappers everywhere.
I twitch, tempted to pick up after him, then think, why should I?
The house has two bedrooms. The master bedroom overlooks the back garden, but most of Jude’s stuff is in the spare bedroom.
Because he does shift work, right from the beginning he often slept there rather than wake me when he came to bed, and that only grew worse as time went by.
Tears prick my eyes. I did try many times to encourage him to wake me, but after the first year I stopped asking, hating the rejection.
I should have made more of an effort, though, or at least initiated a conversation about how it made me feel as if we were drifting apart.
I make myself go over to the wardrobe, take out a case, and start putting my clothes in.
I can pick the rest up once I know what I’m doing, but for now I just need to get out before he comes back.
I can’t talk to him yet. I can’t face the conversation.
I know word for word how it’s going to go. So why even bother?
Halfway through, my phone buzzes. I pick it up—it’s a reply to a text I sent Kim after leaving Archer’s place. I asked her whether she could put me up for a night or two.
She’s replied, OMG what’s happened?
Me: I’ll tell you everything when I get there. Can I come now?
Kim: Of course. You need me to pick you up?
Me: No, I’ll walk, it’s okay
Kim: All right, see you in a bit. Love you x
I tuck the phone in the back of my jeans, then go into the bathroom and start throwing bottles and all my makeup and medication into a washbag.
When I’m done, I lug the case downstairs, then open it again and throw in a few bits from the living room—my slippers, my favorite gray Oodie with cat ears on the hood, and all my chargers.
I look around. I can’t see any other necessities.
The case is a little over half full. Pretty much my whole life, in one bag.
Swallowing hard, I zip it up. It’s not true, of course.
There are many items here that belong to the two of us—furniture we bought together, cushions and paintings, crockery in the kitchen, the bedding and towels.
The detritus of a relationship. I don’t need or want it, and I go out, leaving the house how I found it, and close the door behind me.
Outside, it’s clouded over, and as I start walking, pulling the case behind me, I feel the first spit of rain on my face. Yeah, that figures. Imagine my surprise.
My jacket is in the case, but I can’t be bothered to open it and get it out. It’s not cold, so I just lift my face to the sky and let the drops land on my skin.
Kim and Simon’s place is only ten minutes away along a winding country road that leads inland toward the forest, but by the time I arrive it’s raining hard and I’m completely soaked.
They live in a long, low place on a half-acre of land with a neat lawn, a perfect garden for the children she hasn’t yet had.
I knock on the door, and she opens it almost immediately, so she must have seen me approaching.
“You idiot,” she says. “Told you I should have picked you up.” Her words don’t reflect her obvious worry, and she pulls me into her arms, unmindful of my wet clothing.
I hug her, tears pricking my eyes. She’s seven years older than me, but our whole family is close. She’s been through a lot, but she’s always been there for me.
“Come on,” she says eventually, her voice husky. “Let’s get you warm and dry, and I’ll make coffee.”
“I’m so sorry to put on you like this.” I walk past her, pulling the case over the step.
“Down to the blue bedroom,” she says, and so I walk along the hallway past the living and dining area to the other end of the house and go into the bedroom with the blue bedding. Jude and I have stayed here a few times when they’ve had dinner parties.
She takes a large fluffy towel out of the bathroom and brings it in. “Get changed,” she says briskly. “Have you eaten this morning?”
“No…”
“I’ll ask Si to put some toast on.” She walks away before I can protest that I’m not hungry.
I push the door closed, take the case over to the window, lie it down, and unzip it. Slowly, I pull out a pair of yoga pants and a dry tee and change into them, my movements lethargic. All my energy seems to have gone.
When I’m done, I sit on the bed and pick up my phone.
There are no notifications. Nothing from Jude, and nothing from Archer. I’m not surprised. They’re both going to wait to contact me for different reasons.
For the first time, I let myself think about what happened last night. I broke up with my boyfriend. And I slept with Archer.
A flush creeps up my neck into my face as I remember moving toward him on the sofa and initiating contact. I can’t claim to be drunk. I knew perfectly well what I was doing. But the alcohol did loosen me up a little, I suppose, and it let loose the desires I’d kept hidden for so long.
He tried so hard to be honorable and not take advantage of me in my vulnerable state. Was I right to push past his barriers and force him to ignore his principles?
My fingers rise automatically to my lips as I remember the way he took so long to kiss me all over.
The delight he took in bringing me to orgasm.
How a switch seemed to flip and suddenly the temperature skyrocketed when he slid inside me.
The way he was gentle but oh, so passionate.
And how it felt to cuddle up to him afterwards and sleep next to him all night, safe in his arms.
There’s always love involved… even though it might not look like it for a few minutes, he said. My lips curve up beneath my fingers. I should regret it, but I don’t, not for a second. I needed it, and I loved every moment. I’m so glad we slept together, no matter what happens next.
So… what does happen next? I lower my hand, hovering my fingers over the phone.
I feel bad for what happened this morning, the way Jude turned up before Archer and I had a chance to talk about last night.
I know him well enough to be sure he’s anxious about having lost control.
I caught the end of his conversation with Jude when I walked into the room.
…if you’re going to throw it back in my face, well, screw you.
It was such an un-Archer like thing to say that it shocked me.
Jude must have dismissed his platitudes, which would no doubt have made Archer furious, because he was trying to put aside his own feelings and comfort his best friend.
On the surface of it, it all seems so simple.
Jude doesn’t want a family, and I do. Our relationship was rocky even before he declared that, and now I know, I’m convinced there’s no point in us staying together.
And I like Archer, a lot. I have more in common with him than with Jude.
Archer is also warm, supportive, steady, and loyal, and it fills me with a glow to think that he’s liked me ever since we first met.
But he’s also Jude’s best friend. He might like me, but I don’t know if he wants to blow up his friendship for me.
And even if he does, we have to think about the fact that we all work together.
It’s going to be bad enough if Jude and I break up, but if I start seeing Archer, and Jude’s angry with both of us?
It’ll make it unpleasant for everyone else, and Leon King will not be a happy bunny, because he’s the head of HR and he’s very against relationships when they cause hassle in the workplace.
My head hurts, my mouth tastes disgusting, and my stomach still feels uneasy, even though I threw up most of the contents of it. So I pocket my phone and walk barefoot through the house to the kitchen and living area.
Simon and Kim are both there, and they look up as I enter.
Simon is five-eleven, and slim, with dark-blond hair and a kind but somewhat tired face.
We’ve always gotten on well, and even though he and Kim have been through a difficult time, I like that he’s remained loyal to her, and done his best to support her.
The Lawson girls all look very similar—average height like our mum, but with our dad’s light-brown skin, dark-brown hair, and deep-brown eyes. Kim has a few more lines around the corners of her eyes, but looking at her sometimes feels like looking in a mirror.
Today, though, her hair is loose while mine is still in its bun, and she’s wearing shorts and a bright orange tee.
“Babe,” she says. “Come here.” She pulls me into her arms and gives me a big hug.
I return it with feeling, needing the comfort of my big sis. “Thank you so much for letting me stay,” I say as she pulls back.
She gives me an admonishing look. “Yeah, because I thought about saying no. Sweetie, you’re always welcome here, you know that.”