Chapter 12 Now
Now
“So where do you want to start?” I ask James, whose breathing is even now.
“That’s the only real money I’ve ever had, James.
My dad’s mother might have been an asshole who wanted nothing to do with us, but at least she had an attack of conscience on her deathbed and left her family something in her will.
We were meant to use it to finally have a family of our own. ”
He sighs again. “Please, just before I say anything, I want you to know this has all happened because I love you.”
A swell of nausea rises in me and I want to shake him. I take a moment, steady my breaths, and I’m calm enough.
“Do you understand why I might find that hard to believe?”
He nods, shoulders so slumped it’s like Atlas’s celestial sphere is on his back, sky made stone. “I understand, but it’s true. And when I explain, I hope you’ll see that.” He reaches for my hand, and I snatch it away.
“Talk.”
Raucous cheers erupt from what I assume is the living room. They come to a crescendo with rhythmic thumping undercutting the yells, beating through the house. So someone’s just lost a round of rage cage, then. Spectacularly, it sounds like.
“Should I tell them to pack it in?” James asks.
I eye the snot bubble primed to burst from his nostril and find myself physically repulsed by James for the first time since we’ve been together. “Leave them to it. Just explain yourself.”
“Okay, okay. Look…the truth is, Will found something out. He found something out, and I had to pay him whatever it took to stop him from destroying everything we have.”
The blackmail bombshell sits between us like a heavy weight. It’s a lot, and I’m not sure what to make of it. For a split second, I think about Will’s warning that day at their parents’ place. I speedily dispatch the thought as inherently irrational. But then, what else?
“Why would your own brother blackmail you?”
He shrugs. “I know you and Claire grew up close. But it’s never been like that between me and Will.”
The thought of Claire almost winds me. The force of feeling will keel me over if I linger on it for too long, so I push it aside.
What James is saying is true, and I feel momentarily guilty for the judgment, but there’s still so much pain and anger. Still so many unanswered questions.
“So was it something to do with the business, then? With you pushing Will to let you buy him out?”
James flinches. “No, it’s not that.”
My disgust is thick on my face and thick in my throat. “An affair. Is that it? Will finds out you’re cheating on me, and you use the only real money I’ve ever had to keep him quiet.”
“Jesus, Natalie. I’ve not—”
A knock at the door. Neither of us has even heard this person coming. James flashes me an alarmed look. I quickly slip out of my cocktail dress.
“What—”
“Just scoot over so you’re out of the door’s sight line,” I tell him. He does as he’s told. Nobody needs to see his puffy face and pink cheeks.
“James? Nat? You in there?”
My fingers root into my braids and jostle them.
It’s impossible to make them look truly disheveled on such short notice, but a gentle tousling should do the job.
I pull the door open a crack, shielding most of my body with it.
Waiting outside is a guy in chinos whom I recognize from the sales department of East London Chill.
The moment his eyes take me in, he goes his own shade of florid pink.
“Oh! Oh, uh…Nat. Sorry, so sorry.” He’s already turning to leave, eyes awkwardly looking anywhere but at me. He can hardly see anything, but it’s clear from where he’s standing that I’m almost naked, if not totally.
“It’s okay. What is it?”
He risks a glance, then looks away, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. “I, uh…We were just wondering if you have kitchen roll stashed away somewhere?”
“Yeah, there should be some near where Ama found the Ping-Pong balls, under the sink. They’re tucked around the side on the right.”
He nods, chin leaping up and down in rapid succession. He looks like one of those bobblehead toys you stick on a car dashboard. In ordinary times, I might have found his discomfort mildly amusing, but all the humor has bled out of me. “Of course, of course,” the man says, already making his exit.
“Is everything okay?” I call out after him.
“Yeah!” He doesn’t risk a glance over his shoulder as he makes his way to the stairs. “Just a bit of a spillage.”
I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel James suddenly behind me. “Not on the wooden floors?” he asks, voice hopeful but words lost below the thrumming music.
This is so absurd it almost does make me laugh.
But then again, James has always liked his Nice Stuff.
And not just liked it—needed it. Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like that’s why he needs me, why he chose me: the Cool Wife to make him look like the Cool Guy.
Another item for his collection of Nice Things.
I shut the door. We’re close now. Closer than we’ve been so far tonight. His stare, beneath tear-clumped lashes, is intense. One smooth sidestep, and I’m away from him again, safe.
“Pass me my dress.”
He does. As I change, he shifts from foot to foot, casting anxious looks at the door. “Really, should I go downstairs and make sure everything’s okay? We’ve only just finished decorating—” And now he’s a wilting flower under my incredulous look. “It was just a suggestion.”
He sits on the bed, offers me two raised palms in surrender or supplication. I suppose it doesn’t matter which it is. In either case, I don’t accept.
“You’re in the middle of telling me why you’ve done this to us. Why? Why do it?” My voice is a desperate plea and a dismissal, all at once. I’m the one shaking now. I’d finally found a way to live normally, be happy, and then this…I sit beside him, defeated.
He sighs, shuffles closer, and reaches out toward me. His movements are ginger, testing the waters, but when he can see I won’t lash out at him, he takes my hand.
“We’ll get to the money, I promise,” he says, rubbing his brow, jaw tightening momentarily. Then he looks me dead in the eyes. “I know I should have come to you sooner, I know I should have discussed it with you, not Will. But, Natalie, I found your letters.”
Dear George,
I suppose you were the point of no return.
With you, there were the beginnings of an escape plan, thoughts about how you might not be good for me.
I’m not sure why it was only possible to emotionally divorce from Marc and Luca once they were gone from my life, but with you, I found a way to see the light first.
That’s why how it eventually went down is so ironic.
It was a much messier divorce than either of us expected.
I was cut so deep by everything you did to me that I wanted to cut back.
I snapped, lashed out. What happened was violent and shocking.
Ultimately, you could have seen me behind bars.
It was a wreck. But my time with you left me in pieces, so I suppose that was fitting.
There was a lot you took from me, George, and I regret being too slow to notice what you were doing.
To understand that nice gestures can cover a void of meaningful affection.
But the worst thing you took from me was my sister.
Like I say, I was sloppy. And this time, she saw the monster in me, and this time, it placed an insurmountable distance between us.
Not having her around anymore is a high price to pay for not having you around. Too high. If you gave me the chance to do it all over again, I’d do everything differently with you. And then maybe I wouldn’t have to live with this unbearable regret.