Chapter 56
FIFTY SIX
FOR A BLISSFUL, hazy moment, my mind is blank, my body cocooned in the duvet’s warmth. I reach a hand behind me, expecting to find the solid presence of the man who held me through the night.
But all I find are empty, cool sheets.
I flip onto my back, my heart beginning a heavy beat.
I strain to listen.
The creak of a floorboard.
The distant rush of a shower.
But there is nothing.
Only a deep, hollow silence.
This unnerving quiet pulls me from the bed.
I leave the bedroom and descend the stairs.
Morning sun streams into the foyer, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but the space feels cold and empty.
My gaze sweeps to the front entrance. There, placed side by side, are my heels.
The ones I left in a heap on the rug last night.
Frowning, my eyes travel from my shoes to the security panel on the wall.
A yellow sticky is attached to it. Four numbers are written in Matthew’s handwriting. The alarm code.
My heart sinks.
He’s not here.
My drive to the café is a smear of unnoticed details.
I give Helen a heavily edited, surface-level version of events. Just enough to put her worry to rest, but not nearly enough to touch on the gaping wound of my ensuing fight with Matthew.
The rest of the day passes in a haze. My body is there weighing coffee beans, steaming milk, even chatting occasionally with customers.
But my mind is in that house across town where he wasn’t this morning.
Wondering what things will be like later when he returns.
If he returns. Every chime of the bell above the door makes my heart leap with a foolish hope, only to have it crash when it’s not him.
By the time Helen and I lock up, a soul-deep weariness has settled over me. But I can’t delay it. I have to go home, his home, and face whatever awaits me there.
Night has fallen by the time I pull into the driveway.
The drive across Madison was a quiet torment, my mind replaying every second of our fight.
I park and walk up the stone path. The house looms before me, dark and silent, save for a single light glowing from the living room window.
I reach the front door, my hand hesitating.
After a steadying breath, I will myself to ring the doorbell.
But before my finger makes contact, the door swings open.
Matthew stands there in grey sweatpants and a black tank top, a towel slung around his neck. His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second. Still distant, unreadable. He steps back, holding the door open for me in a gesture devoid of all warmth.
As I step past him, he turns and walks to the basement without a backward glance.
Nothing has changed.
I close the door and make the long, lonely walk up the stairs.
In the guest bedroom, I head straight for the bathroom.
Leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor, I turn the shower on, twisting the knob until the water is as hot as I can take it, and step inside.
The steam fills the glass enclosure immediately, clouding out the world.
I stand there, my face turned up into the spray, letting the heat soak into my chilled skin.
But there is no washing this away.
The events of last night crash over me.
His face, contorted in anguish as he compared me to his mother.
My own voice, spitting the cruelest words I could conjure.
His shattered expression.
A sob, hot and painful, finally bursts from deep inside, lost in the sound of the pounding water.
My legs give out, and I slide down the slick, tiled wall to sit on the floor of the shower, my knees pulled to my chest. I wrap my arms around them and let myself break.
The tears come freely now, mingling with the hot water.
A silent, heartbroken storm in the privacy of my steamy cage.
After mechanically toweling off, I pull on my pajamas with an aching exhaustion. I get into bed, but my eyes are wide open, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness.
A soft creak from the hallway floorboards makes my body go still. I listen, holding my breath, as the quiet sounds stop directly outside my door.
My heart leaps into my throat.
He’s going to knock.
Please knock.
My eyes burning holes into the dark, waiting for a sound that never comes. After a long, agonizing minute, the floorboards creak again as he walks away, followed by the definitive click of his own bedroom door closing.
The hope inside me collapses.
Sleep is a distant, unattainable shore. For hours, I toss and turn, the sheets becoming a tangled, suffocating mess. My mind is races with an endless array of loud, chaotic thoughts. The oppressive silence of the house only amplifies them.
With a frustrated sigh, I give up.
I can’t lie here a moment longer.
Slipping out of bed, I throw on my hooded cardigan over my pajamas and creep out of the room. The hallway is a cavern of shadows. I don’t dare look at Matthew’s closed door as I pass. Downstairs, I navigate the darkened living room by the faint moonlight filtering through the large windows.
I need to escape the suffocating silence of these walls.
I need air.
I open the door to the backyard and step onto the slate stone patio.
My arms cross over my chest, pulling the cardigan tight against the crisp night air.
I climb the couple of stone steps and unlock the latch at the fence, walking through the iron gate.
The long, rectangular pool glows with an ethereal blue light from beneath its surface, casting dancing reflections on the surrounding trees.
The gentle lapping of water is accompanied by the distant rustle of leaves in the trees.
I take several deep breaths, filling my lungs with the fresh air.
I start walking along the edge of the pool, my bare feet padding softly on the concrete.
I walk its entire length, past the diving board, then turn and stroll back, trying to let the stillness of the night seep into my restless mind.
When I reach the board again…
I stop.
I remember the sheer terror I felt the first time Matthew led me onto it. The dizzying wobbles. The threat of dropping into the deep end. I had clung to him as if it were a matter of life or death.
Extending my right foot, I place it onto the slightly rough surface.
Then, with no hesitation, I bring my left foot to join it.
The board dips slightly under my weight as I take another careful step forward.
Too tired to balance, I sit down and scoot forward to the very end, dangling my legs over the sides.
I lean forward and rest my palms on the surface in front of me.
The water looks so still and peaceful from here.
It’s the best spot, trust me.
Matthew’s words surface in my mind, making my heart contract with nostalgia.
A sad smile touches my lips.
He’s right.
There is a strange solace in being suspended above the water, under the vast, star-dusted sky.
A soft click from the far end of the yard breaks the spell.
Matthew’s silhouette is framed in the opening of the iron fence. He closes the latch and walks toward me, his steps unhurried on the stone path that circles the pool. He stops when he’s close enough for me to see his face.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper, my voice scratchier than I had expected.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he says simply, continuing past me to step onto the diving board.
It groans under his weight. I don’t turn around or look back. The board dips, and I instinctively grip the edges as I feel him sit down behind me. But not close enough, because I don’t feel his warmth.
“So you couldn’t sleep either?” he asks my back.
I shake my head, my gaze fixed on the rippling water below.
He sighs. A loud, shuddering sound that seems to carry the weight of the world. “I had the shittiest day.”
“Same.” The one word rises to my lips, a perfect echo of his own misery.
It hangs in the air between us, followed by a lengthy silence.
Matthew lets out a long breath that sounds defeated. The board shifts. He scoots closer, the heat of his body now a tangible presence right behind me.
“Would you turn around, love?” he asks, his voice a pleading murmur.
I don’t respond, frozen with uncertainty.
“Please,” he adds, even softer. “I’ll help you.”
His hands come up on either side of me. A loose, protective cage. I carefully, awkwardly, turn until I am facing him in the soft blue glow, our knees touching.
“Thank you,” he whispers with great sincerity.
“You left pretty early this morning,” I whisper back, the hurt from the day finally finding a voice.
He winces, the words landing like a well-aimed stone. “Yeah,” he breathes, offering no other explanation.
Silence descends again.
Matthew leans back a fraction and reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants. He pulls out a wallet-sized photograph, its edges creased from years of handling, and holds it out to me.
My brow furrows with curiosity as I take it from him.
“Arella Warren,” he says.
The woman in the picture is a young brunette with a kind, somber smile and eyes I would recognize anywhere.
My heart skips a beat.
It’s his mother.
“You have her eyes,” I whisper, my gaze lifting from the photo to the man sitting in front of me.
A strangled sound catches in Matthew’s throat. He clears it, eyes glistening. A single tear traces a path down his cheek, silver in the light of the pool.
I cup his cheek, my thumb gently wiping the wetness from his skin.
His eyes meet mine, their green depths swimming with pain.
“She was the strongest person I knew, Amy. And she spent her life married to a man who broke her spirit day by day.” His voice drops to a broken whisper.
“And she stayed for one reason only: to be a shield. To keep him so focused on breaking her that he wouldn’t even notice me becoming my own man. ”
“She’s a remarkable woman,” I murmur, my eyes welling up.
“And last night I dishonored her memory.” He looks at the photograph in my hand. “And I hurt you.”
“Matt—”
“No, Amy. It wasn’t right to compare you to her. But when you used that word… responsibility…” He shakes his head, his voice thick with self-loathing. “Something inside me broke. All I could see was my mother. All I could feel was that old, suffocating helplessness. I was so scared.”
“I was scared too.” I nod, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“Leaving James almost cost me myself. I’m terrified of stepping right into the same trap again.
So… I chose to be cruel.” I sniffle, finding it very difficult to keep my words coherent.
“To take that check, that sacred gift from your mother, and twist it into something so ugly. I didn’t mean any of it.
I’m so sorry.” My shoulders shake, my head bowing under the weight of my regret.
Matthew instantly pulls me to his chest. His arms wrap around me, his lips pressing to the crown of my head. “I’m the one who’s sorry, love,” he whispers in my hair.
Time itself seems to hold its breath as we sit wrapped in each other’s embrace, suspended over the water. When we pull away, I take one last look at the photograph in my hand before holding it out to him with a deeply grateful smile.
He takes it, his gaze dropping to her beautiful face.
With a reverence that makes my heart ache, he presses the photo to his lips before carefully sliding it back into his pocket.
He takes my hands in his, looking at me with a tender smile. A smile I return wholeheartedly as I give his fingers a loving squeeze.
“Would you do something for me?” I ask hesitantly.
“Anything,” he replies immediately.
“I need to go see James at the hospital tomorrow,” I say.
A shadow of fear flickers in his eyes.
“I will give him the cheque and return the key to his apartment,” I continue firmly. “I don’t want to leave any ties between us. I need things with him to be over for good.”
Matthew bites the inside of his cheek, nodding thoughtfully as he turns his gaze to the water.
I bring my hand to the side of his face, gently turning it back to me. “I was wondering if you would come with me?”
His eyes widen slightly in surprise.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go in alone to see him,” I clarify, the words tumbling out. “But I just… I want you to be there with me.” I look up at him, my shoulder rising in a timid shrug.
He slides my hand from his face to his lips, kissing my palm. His eyes are full of a love that eclipses his fear. “Of course I’ll come with you.”
He leans in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss of deep understanding.
A kiss of forgiveness.
A light laugh bubbles from my chest as we break apart. “When I sat here, I forgot I’d eventually have to get off this thing.”
His own deep chuckle joins mine. “Okay, stay put.”
He carefully shimmies backward, his weight making the board sway.
Once he’s on the solid ground of the pool deck, he holds out both hands to me. “Your turn.”
“Promise you won’t let me fall in,” I plead.
“I promise,” he replies, leaning in even more.
I scoot forward. As I go to stand, the board gives a dramatic wobble. A yelp escapes me, and I lunge forward, my hands finding his. He laughs, his grip strong and sure, easily pulling me from the board onto the safety of the concrete. Instead of letting me go, he pulls me into a big hug.
“I told you I wouldn’t let you fall,” he murmurs into my neck.
We walk back to the house hand in hand with unhurried ease.
He leads me up the main staircase, our steps in sync.
When we reach the guest bedroom, he swings the door inward without releasing my hand.
I take a couple of steps inside but stop as our joined hands pull taut.
I turn back to find him lingering in the doorway.
His grip on my hand is tight, unwilling to let go.
There is a quiet hesitation in his eyes.
He tugs my hand, pulling me back to stand before him, his gaze searching mine. “Are you going to invite me to stay over?” he asks, a sensuous smile spreading across his face.
Beaming, I tighten my fingers around his. I pull him into the room, making him chuckle as I reach behind him to push the door closed.