Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Fifteen years later
I angled my head in a different direction to see if this made the sight in front of me any easier to comprehend. Nope. There were still too many legs peeking out from under the covers of the bed, too many bodies writhing about beneath the duvet, accompanied by the distinct grunting, gasping sound that Jonathan made when he was getting really close to climaxing.
It was difficult to know what to do. My awkward British sensibilities made me want to back out of the room, close the door quietly, and pretend I’d never seen this. I wanted to make a strong cup of tea and have a sit down. Maybe even eat a whole packet of bourbon biscuits and have a little cry.
But the honey badger part of my brain was having none of it, was rising from slumber, acutely and furiously awakened. And she was most definitely not going to let this apocalyptic transgression slide.
“For the love of God, Jonathan, why did you have to turn out to be such a total and utter bastard?” I said. Loudly. I was proud that my voice didn’t waver or wobble. I was rationality personified, even if my intestines were looping the loop and sickening bile was rising in my throat as my love life crashed spectacularly down around me.
All writhing and grunting stopped. A corner of the duvet was lifted and his face came into view, all flushed skin, panting obscenely, and sandy hair dishevelled.
“Hannah?! It’s not?—”
“If you’re about to tell me that it’s not what it looks like, I will legitimately get the phenobarbital from the car and draw up enough to kill a horse,” I interjected. An angry self-righteous violence, likely from my Viking ancestry, was rearing its head in the face of the dreadfully clichéd way in which our relationship was going to end.
A dark-haired head appeared next to his, her eyes wide, fearful. Christ, this was even worse. Totally humiliating and disgusting. On all levels.
“You’re shagging your PhD student, really, Jonathan?”
“We’re in love,” he muttered.
I stared in disbelief, his once familiar and attractive face now like a blob of vomit in my brain. Initially I had found him confident and charismatic. I had been amused by his slight condescension that was thinly veiled as humour. Impressed by his innate ability to ingratiate himself to all around him with an affable, upper-class charm. He had been so pleasant and helpful, championing my burgeoning career and always quick to offer his contacts or knowledge to further my research and allow me to flourish. And when he’d told me that he wanted me, that he loved me, so early on in our relationship, I’d felt like I’d won the romance lottery and would get my happily ever after. But now, seeing this betrayal first-hand was a hideous punch to the guts, the cold realisation, the sudden stark acceptance, a slap in the face. I really had meant nothing to him. He had, in fact, just been a cheating and disingenuous wanker all along, and I had fallen for him, hook, line, and sinker. How stupid was I?
“Love? Is that what this is?” I directed my furious gaze at the young, impressionable woman who was desperately looking everywhere but at me. “Well, I sincerely hope he can make you orgasm, Daisy, because he’s never been able to do that for me in the entire two years we’ve been together.”
Meeting my eyes briefly, she shook her head slightly.
“What?!” Jonathan spluttered, turning an incredulous stare down at her.
“You’ve never made me come, Jonathan. I usually go home after and sort myself out,” she said, somewhat awkwardly.
Folding my arms, I leant against the doorframe to see how this would unfold, immensely enjoying his discomfort despite the nausea still bubbling in my stomach.
“What?!” he repeated. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He looked up at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrugged. “I thought you might have noticed.”
Jonathan rolled over and sat up, rubbing his hands over his face while Daisy, his PhD student (and possibly now ex-lover), scooted out of bed and began gathering her clothes together.
“I’m so sorry, Dr Havens,” she said to me. “I was in real danger of failing my first year and he said he would help me.”
I shot a disbelieving look at Jonathan, who had the grace to look suitably ashamed.
“That’s appalling behaviour from your supervisor. You should definitely report it to the Dean of the Graduate School. No student should be coerced into having sex with a professor to improve their grades, or for any other reason whatsoever.”
Dressed in record time, Daisy nodded and skirted around me and out of the door, leaving me staring at the person I’d thought I knew – the person I’d fallen in love with but who was now so unfamiliar and repulsive to me that it was like looking at a stranger. A dirty, libidinous stranger. The sort of person who made you feel as if one look would cause your skin to crawl entirely off your body.
“I think I’ll just go,” I said. This was his very grand house after all. He was the senior lecturer and professor of veterinary medicine here while I was just an academic research fellow and still paying off my student debts. I wasn’t exactly flush with cash. And even after two years together, he hadn’t even let me move in with him. Instead, I’d been renting a poky little room in a dingy house near the vet school with some other research fellows and PhD students. The true and heady heights of success in my thirties.
“Hannah, don’t go! We can work through this.”
“But you’re in love with her, Jonathan, and I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice, least of all to a sexually coercive prick such as you.”
“Hannah, please,” he begged.
“Perhaps you’ve done me a favour. I might actually have a chance of finding a guy who can satisfy me in bed now.” I was still scarily calm; a picture of cold indifference. I had the temperament of a complete bitch. It was a bit like having an out-of-body experience, watching this cool and collected ice queen laying into this man as if she couldn’t give a crap. Yet inside, my emotions were in turmoil: rejection, disgust (at myself as well as him), and failure swirling in a sour mix that boiled under my skin.
“I am sorry,” he whispered, head bowed in dejection.
My resolve faltered for a moment because, despite how I appeared outwardly, I was still wishing that this could all be undone somehow, unseen, unknown, my uneventful little life returned back to its normal status quo.
“Jonathan, I…”
His expression changed, like a lion spotting the weakest member in a herd of antelope. “You know you still need me, Hannah. You know you still want me. I want you too. Don’t throw this away because of one silly mistake.”
“I…” The niggly little unkind gremlin who lived in my head had thrust herself forwards, reminding me that there was zero likelihood that anyone else would want me, and that it was a miracle someone as good-looking and successful as Jonathan still wanted me. But then the sound of the front door closing at the bottom of the stairs – presumably Daisy hot-footing it out of here – reminded me of the “silly mistake” I had just witnessed. My blood began to boil all over again. A life of spinsterhood was calling.
Someone get me a cat. Or twelve.
“I no longer want you. It’s over.”
Jonathan’s expression darkened, and I knew what was coming, knew where this would likely head. I was familiar with the usual pattern of angry denigration that he spewed when embarrassed or when he felt he had been wronged. I’d seen it from him before, but had often felt that he was justified. I had forever taken his side in all things, blinded to his fuckwittery by my own devotion. But now I needed to ready myself, to be prepared.
Come on ice queen, brace yourself in case of extreme bastardliness. And don’t fucking crumple, whatever you do.
“I would never have gone elsewhere if you’d shown me even an ounce of affection. What did you expect? You’ve essentially forced me into the arms of other women.”
Women? More than one.
What a fool I was.
“Plus, you’re so cold and unresponsive in bed that it’s like having sex with a corpse. If you’d been enough of a girlfriend, this would never have happened.”
“So this is all my fault? Wow.” I slumped back against the door frame. This was a low blow. I’d tried to spice things up in the bedroom more than once, but he was the one who’d decided it was missionary or nothing. I levelled a stony fuck-you glare at him.
“If you tell anyone about this, I can make things very difficult for you in the department. You know that, don’t you?” he carried on, his tone now a touch desperate. “Your academic career will be gone, just like that.” He clicked his fingers theatrically.
What an arsehole.
“You’d have to start all over again and I’d make damn sure every door was shut in your face,” he carried on smugly.
I remained mute. Sadly, I knew he was right. I knew he could gather the old boys around himself and make any chance of success impossible for me. I also knew that he would threaten Daisy in exactly the same way, and she would buckle and keep all this to herself so as not to jeopardise her own fledgling career.
“But we can turn this around. I can forgive you for not being affectionate, you can work on it – have some sex therapy or something – and we can move on,” he said, his voice taking on a persuasive lilt. He smiled and patted the duvet next to him, his expression deceptive and slippery. “Come on, Hannah. Think about your future. You know I’m the only one who can help you be truly successful in the veterinary field.”
Screw this.
With a saccharine smile, I walked over to the bed, watching his face sag with relief, believing that his threats and posturing had weakened my resolve; that he had got his own way. As he usually did. Leaning down so that our faces were level, I surreptitiously reached out and grasped the full pint glass of water that he always had on the bedside table but never drank.
“Do you know what, Jonathan? You’re absolutely right. I am thinking very carefully about my future, and I’ve recently decided that my life needs to take on an entirely new trajectory. One that is a fucking million miles away from you.”
And I poured the whole glass over his head, and stalked out of the room.