Chapter 15
S carlett knocked gently on the open door, where she could see Ana?se pulling garments out from suitcases strewn across the bed.
She wasn’t big on fashion or keeping up with the latest trends, but she could recognise money and style, which Ana?se seemed to possess by the bucketful.
“Would you like some help?” Scarlett scanned the chaos in the room– makeup bags emptied over the sideboard, shoes scattered across the floor, and several coats and dresses hanging over the freestanding bath and across the velvet-upholstered chair in the corner.
“Millie would have packed my silk scarf, I’m sure of it, but I can’t find it anywhere.” Ana?se turned to look at Scarlett, who could have sworn a brief salacious smile played on her lips as she looked Scarlett up and down.
Scarlett dismissed it as Ana?se returned to the mess in front of her, where she’d also thrown dresses and blouses out of another case and onto the bed.
“Happy to put things away for you, if that would help?” Scarlett approached the other side of the bed to get a better view and picked up the most beautiful gown she’d ever laid eyes on.
Ana?se smiled, watching her.
“You like it?” She seemed pleased with Scarlett’s reaction.
Scarlett nodded, admiring the soft material.
“It’s a Christopher John Rogers piece.” Ana?se’s tone was nonchalant.
Scarlett’s confusion about who that was must have been obvious as Ana?se rolled her eyes.
“Oh, well– I suppose I can live without the scarf.” Ana?se refocused her attention to the bed. “Leonard has a Pornstar Martini ready for me downstairs, which I’m reluctant to leave waiting.”
Her Southern drawl made Scarlett smile. It reminded her of years of listening to the background noise of June’s favourite movies as a child.
She wondered if the whole situation she’d found herself in recently wasn’t becoming increasingly surreal and like something from June’s vast book collection.
“It’s no problem. I’ll sort it and if I see the scarf, I’ll leave it out for you on the dresser.”
“You’re a doll, thank you.” And with a wide smile and a dismissive wave, Ana?se left the room to join the others downstairs.
Scarlett marvelled at the disarray created by a single person, but seeing no point in wasting time thinking on the mysterious inner workings of Ana?se, she began moving between the bed and the large oak wardrobe and drawers, which she’d aired and waxed back to life the day before.
She began hanging and folding garments more expensive than her entire worldly possessions, which, granted, weren’t much.
The thought brought Jason to mind. She wondered what he was doing and what his thoughts on her recent line of work would be– namely the sorting of clothes belonging to some Southern belle probably wealthier than half the royal family combined.
It wasn’t exactly her dream job, and although wealth always impressed Jason, it left her feeling indifferent and other .
Scarlett paused in front of the mirror and held the dark green silk dress she’d admired earlier against her figure, enjoying the feel of the fabric and imagining herself wearing it whilst sipping on a Pornstar Martini.
She laughed at the idea and her reflection. When would she now have cause to wear a dress like this?
Still smiling, she hung the dress in the wardrobe, shaking her head– she didn’t even like dresses.
Usually .
As she made her way back to the bed, her phone vibrated in the back pocket of her jeans.
Not recognising the number, she tentatively answered.
“Hello?”
“It’s so good to hear your voice, darling.”
The voice on the other end of the line made Scarlett’s stomach clench, and panic flooded her senses.
She couldn’t speak.
“Scarlett, babe? Talk to me, please. I’ve missed you. This is all such an unbelievable mess. Where are you? Are you okay?”
Jason’s delayed concern irritated her, and words found her again.
“I’ve been gone for almost two weeks and you’re only now wondering how I am?”
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. My head just hasn’t been right. I’ve not been able to think straight.” His voice croaked with emotion.
Despite her annoyance, the familiarity of him filled her with a warmth that she knew she should instantly rebuff, but just for a moment she wanted to bask in its comfort.
The sense that she belonged somewhere, with someone– that she wasn’t alone in the world after all.
But the feeling was fleeting, as thoughts of Angelica quickly flooded her mind.
Young, sweet, funny, and now very pregnant Angelica.
No, she scolded herself. She didn’t belong there anymore, and he was no longer her home.
“How are Angelica and the baby?” Scarlett asked, closing her eyes and, despite her resolve, involuntary tears spilled as soon as the words left her mouth.
The silence on the phone hung heavy with pain and regret.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, Jason sighed.
“They’re fine. We had a scan last week– it’s a boy.”
My God, how far along is she?
Scarlett tried to push away thoughts of how long they’d been fucking behind her back. It would do no good.
“I see. Well, congratulations, I guess. You must all be delighted.”
“Scarlett—”
“Please don’t placate me, Jason. Was there a reason for your call?” she snapped at him.
“I just needed to hear your voice.” His voice cracked.
For fuck’s sake.
“Right, okay.” Scarlett scanned the cases behind her. “I’m actually quite busy, if I’m honest.”
“Where are you?” Jason asked.
“With my mum. She found me some work.” She waited for the penny to drop.
There was a long pause as he registered the information.
“In Scotland?” he finally asked.
“Yes.” Scarlett sighed.
She really didn’t want to be having this conversation.
“Doing what?”
“Various bits and pieces– I’m helping organise a wedding at the moment.” Scarlett winced, wondering what his reaction would be.
“That’s very random,” he said with a hint of annoyance.
“It’s actually been good… and fun.”
“Fun?” He scoffed.
“Yes, I’d forgotten what that was like. Although, you’ve always been good at finding that, haven’t you?” She grimaced, regretting letting him know how affected she was– Christ alive, of course she was bloody affected!
Regardless, Scarlett needed this to be over now.
“Don’t be like that,” Jason said, his tone clipped.
“Like what, Jason? What is it you want?” Scarlett held her head in her hand, her patience wearing thin.
“I want you– I need you here.”
She laughed, the bitter edge of it biting at the already painful tension hanging between them.
“For what? To look after the house? Your diary? Feed you? Babysit? Surely it’d be easier just to hire a PA or a cleaner– or a nanny, even.”
“You’re my wife. I need my wife.” He was being serious.
It was her turn to scoff, particularly at the sincerity in his voice. “You didn’t seem to need me when you fucked that child.”
“Don’t be so lewd, you know perfectly well she’s twenty-one.”
“Well, that’s alright then. Coming to think of it, I wasn’t much older, was I? At least you’ve stayed true to type.” Scarlett cringed as the truth of that fact hit her in the gut.
“It wasn’t– it’s not like that.” He sighed.
“Tell me then, Jason, what was it like? Was she fascinated by your titillating conversational skills, or your impressive oeuvre ? Or, let’s be frank, was it simply the size of your cock?”
“Scarlett, that is enough!” His patience with her was dwindling.
Good.
“I’m not a child, Jason. I’ll say whatever the fuck I like.”
“That language has never suited you and look, it was wrong. I was wrong, and if I could go back and change things, I would, in an instant.” He took a deep inhale of breath to keep his calm, but she could tell she was riling him.
“But you can’t, can you?” Scarlett’s voice held a slight quiver.
“No, I can’t– but I wish I could.”
Another pause.
Finally, Scarlett spoke. “This is a ridiculous conversation to be having. I need to get on.”
“Scarlett—”
“I genuinely hope everything goes well with the pregnancy and I wish you both luck, and at some point, I guess we’ll talk about solicitors and stuff.”
“We’re not getting a divorce—”
“I’ll also text you my address. I’d appreciate it if you could send me my personal things and clothes,” she continued, ignoring his interruption.
“Scarlett, let me be very clear. We are not getting a divorce. I want you to come home.” He was using his serious businesslike tone with her. He often used it whenever something she said, did, or wanted disappointed him. Which was often.
Fuck you, Jason! Fuck you very, very much.
Scarlett closed her eyes again, hugging herself, doubling over– her heart and stomach physically hurt. “I need to go, Jason. Goodbye.”
She ended the call and wanted to weep from the deceit and humiliation of it all. The raw emotions felt violent and relentless, coursing through her body, stopping abruptly at her chest.
But despite the pain, the only release was a couple of renegade tears, which she quickly brushed away with the back of her hand.
Taking a deep breath, she stood, straightening her clothes and wiping away the remaining dampness from her face.
It was done.
It was over, whether Jason wanted it to be or not, and she would not sit around mourning a sham marriage– which is exactly what it was.
How many others had there been?
All those delayed trips.
The overtly sentimental behaviour when he returned home, most likely guilty displays of affection.
She felt sick.
Had it all really been a complete lie?
“No more,” she told herself with a firmness that came from a place she didn’t know existed within her, but she liked it.
Grabbing a couple of dresses, she walked to the wardrobe and got back to what she was doing, albeit with a little less enthusiasm than before.
Scarlett didn’t need him. She had a new, purposeful life with new people, even if it was temporary, and there was no room for all this unhappiness and melancholy.
Life had to move on and there was no space for Jason in it anymore.