Chapter Four
"THERE." HE PULLS BACK, and I can only blink because it's my first time to see the gleam of amusement in his eyes. "That stopped you from crying, didn't you?"
Is he saying...is he saying he just wanted me to think he's going to kiss me? As a tear-stopper technique?
I force myself to laugh, but stop when the sound comes out as pathetic and...well, let's just say it doesn't make me sound any less like the loser I'm starting to feel I am.
"What do you want to drink?"
I start to shake my head.
"I'll decide for you then," he says easily. "Sit down while I make you a drink."
I'm about to shake my head again when he adds softly, "It's not a request, Nicole."
That shouldn't have worked.
But it does.
And I somehow find myself sitting down dazedly on the couch of his suite, which I'm now starting to appreciate as I look around.
It's...big.
That's all I can think at first, and then my brain catches up to itself and tells me that big isn't the word, enormous is the word, the suite I paid for could fit inside this living room and have room left over for a second living room.
Black and white, too, in a way that makes me think of London because I've only ever seen rooms like this in the kind of British movies Sandy refused to watch with me.
And there's a—
Wait.
Is that a lap pool on the balcony?
A lap pool. On a balcony. In a hotel.
And a grand piano in the corner that's making my fingers itch even though I haven't sat at one in I don't know how long.
And a staircase, of all things.
A hotel suite that has its own staircase. Who needs a staircase in a hotel? What's even up there? Another floor? A second living room? Why would anyone need a hotel suite this big when they're not even living here?
"Here you go."
I already know what he's brought me before I even turn to look at him.
Tea.
Mint tea, to be exact, with these tiny blue petals floating on the surface.
I lean closer because I want to make sure I'm seeing it right, and yup.
Blue petals.
Is this normal? Am I just not posh enough to know that it’s normal to have real flowers in tea these days?
Am I supposed to drink around them? Or chew them?
I just have so many questions while staring at those pretty tiny small blue petals, and.
..I’m thankful for that. Anything that gets my mind off. ..shapes? I’m thankful for it, and..oh.
I'm not quite sure what to do when my husband’s boss sits next to me on the couch instead of taking either armchair on the side. All this time I thought Londoners were big on personal space, but maybe they've changed?
"Take a sip, Nicole."
How bossy of him, I can’t help thinking even as I mumble my thanks and reach for one of the pretty porcelain cups. I’m just too tired to argue over anything right now, and honestly, it’s not like I’ve ever been the confrontational—oh!
The tea is surprisingly good.
Like, for real, it’s really, really good.
The heat, the scent, the minty, ice-like taste that soothes and refreshes. This is exactly what I didn't realize I needed, and it does have me wondering...
I steal a look at him over the rim of my cup—
Oops.
—only to find out that he's been watching me all this time, and my cheeks turn red at being caught like a peeping tom.
"I'm s-sorry—"
"You're starting to sound more British than I do," he murmurs, "with how often you apologize."
"I'm—" Wait. Am I about to say sorry again?
His eyes do more of that gleaming, and my cheeks turn redder.
"A penny for your thoughts?"
I can't remember the last time I've heard someone say that, but it suits him somehow. I mean, I've never really looked at Mr. Everford—I've never really looked at any other man since I married Sandy.
But now that I am looking at him, I realize how he has this Old World air about him. Like he's a Regency lord reluctantly joining us in the modern world because he's noble enough to accept the duty of teaching etiquette to ill-mannered 21st century individuals like me.
And yet at the same time...
Gulp.
There's a ruthlessness about him, too, and it's how he's gazing at me now. Assessing me like a blue-blooded killer, and now he's just lazily considering on whether I'm to be his prey or pet, and I...I have no idea where that thought come from.
Is this because I'm in shock?
"Is your silence your way of telling me to mind my own business?"
My eyes widen. "I—no, it's not—I'm not—"
"I was joking."
Oh.
Right.
I smile weakly even though a part of me isn't convinced. "I'm..." I almost find myself apologizing yet again but catch myself in time. "...just thinking things through."
His eyes are gleaming again. Like he knew I was about to say 'I'm sorry'.
"I understand."
His sober tone catches me off guard. We're practically strangers, and yet he's been so incredibly—
"You caught your husband in bed with another woman, and neither of them has expressed any kind of remorse. That's indeed a lot to process. It's hard to decide whether they're in the wrong, isn't it?"
—sarcastic. And mean. And...honest.
"I'm in shock, okay?"
"But also stupid?"
What is this guy's deal? Why is he nice one moment and then not nice the next?
"You look angry," he comments.
"I’m upset,” I sputter, “because you just said I was stupid—”
"Deny it then."
"I deny it!" I don’t think I’ve ever said something so fast.
"With actions, not words."
All I can do is stare at him while asking myself the same question. Because I'm seriously clueless. What is this guy's problem—
Riiiiing.
"Starting with that."
I don't even remember I still have my bag slung over my shoulder until it starts vibrating, and when I take it out—
"Don't answer it."
It's Sandy calling.
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because he deserves to lose a night's sleep—"
I put my phone back in my bag.
"—over this." He's smiling as he finishes, having seen what I've done.
"I'm not as stupid as you think."
"We'll see."
I have no energy to talk. I just...I just feel tired all of a sudden. I get to my feet, intending to thank him and book a room of my own so I can just sleep. But the moment I stand up, the whole world sways—
And just like that I'm back in his arms again, and this time I don't even have the energy to feel embarrassed. I'm just so tired I can't even pretend I'm okay.
I just start crying until my head starts hurting, and I'm still crying as I feel him lay me down on a bed, and all I can hope is that this isn't his bed because I really can't do anything but cry now.
"Rest, Nicole. It's been a long day."
He wipes my tears, and my eyes slowly close.
How confusing this man is.
I still don't understand what his deal is but right now all I want to do is sleep.
And so I do.
I'm not sure how long I sleep.
All I know is that when I wake up, it's to the sound of my phone buzzing nonstop inside my bag, now on the bedside table. I reach for it while my head pounds like I have a hangover. Not that I ever had one, but I'm sure this is how it feels.
I finally get my phone out, and my mind doesn't seem to be working right. I don't understand why there are so many missed calls and texts, and so I open just one in random—
You little tart! You'll burn in hell for this!
Why is my mother-in-law so furious?
I open another message, this time from...him.
You'll hear from my lawyer soon.
And masochist that I am, I do see an email from his lawyer, and boy does this lawyer work fast because staring back at me is Sandy’s petition for divorce...on the grounds of infidelity.
As in my infidelity, not his.