Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Amy
“That’s everything,” Terry says. He’s standing in the center of our living room holding the final cardboard box. “I have a meeting with the lawyer on Tuesday at ten. Will you be available to come?”
My eyes fill with tears again for what feels like the thousandth time since his arrival an hour ago. I fail to blink them away, and the treacherous little bastards roll down my cheeks.
“No,” I whisper. It’s the only word I can push painfully past my lips. He sighs softly, then turns to leave. "Terry," I squeak, my voice barely audible as he turns to look at me. I need to convince him to stay.
Once he’s gone, that’s it. Our marriage is over. I’ve lost him. Not able to look up at him, I hear him place the box on the floor and walk toward me; his trainers come into view beneath me.
“Amz,” he whispers, placing his hands on my shoulders.
My body automatically relaxes at his touch. Everything about us is familiar. Safe and secure. Maybe he won’t leave.
“I love you,” he mumbles, “but our marriage isn’t working for me anymore.
We are completely different people now. What we had together was special, and these have been the happiest years of my life, but if I stay, it will ruin my memories of us.
” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll be in touch. Look after yourself, Amz.”
With that, he releases me and walks away. He walks away from me, from our marriage, and from our life together.
Katie and I returned to London yesterday. Our stay in Scotland was cut short after the police turned up to arrest the owners. The whole thing caused chaos. Suddenly, our quiet escape wasn’t so quiet. We packed up and headed back to London the next day.
Terry had moved back into the apartment while I was away.
He’d stayed with Ben and the kids for a while, but when I made no move to come back, he returned to our home.
We spoke on the phone at various points during my absence.
Most of the time we skirted around topics, not discussing the glaring issue hanging above us: our marriage.
When I told him Katie and I were returning to London and she would be staying in the apartment, he brought the subject up.
“When will you be back?” he asked.
“We have a hotel up here for two nights, then we’ll drive down,” I said. “Will you be home, or are you working?”
“I won’t be here. I’ll need to find somewhere else to stay.”
“There’s plenty of room,” I argued. “We have two bedrooms.” He didn’t respond. Silence filled the line. “Terry?”
“Yes, and you will need a bedroom, and so will Katie. I shouldn’t still be here anyway. It’s not good for either of us. I’ll start packing.”
Without so much as a goodbye, he cut the call. I’d stood, staring at the handset. He’d never done that before.
Now, back in London, in our home, watching him walk away from me, I realize he was serious about ending our marriage.
I’d hoped our three-month separation while I was in Scotland would make him see sense.
Make him see that we were meant to be together.
It had not had the desired effect. He left anyway.
***
Katie and I sit in my empty apartment, sprawled on a sofa, each wearing our pajamas and drinking cocktails.
Top Gun is on the TV, and both of us have our eyes focused on the screen.
Tom Cruise has just flown a fighter plane at a bazillion miles per hour through the skies.
Now he’s riding his motorcycle, and as he dismounts, we get a panty-wetting view of his luscious behind. Delicious.
“Ooft,” I purr, “I wouldn’t mind him mounting me and enjoying a rodeo.”
My friend snorts, and the mojito she’s drinking shoots from between her lips. “Fuck’s sake. Don’t say things like that. The image that creates in my head is enough to make me orgasm on the spot.”
She grins, but her eyes are firmly trained on the view. “Look at us, two single, middle-aged women lying on our asses on a Saturday night. No men in sight. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry. We are resolved to watch 1980’s film porn to get our kicks.”
I giggle. It’s true. Since we arrived back in London, we’ve only been out socially a handful of times. “We really need to up our game.”
In our apartment, I’m not the only woman nursing a broken heart. Up in Scotland, Katie had a fling with a man almost twenty years younger than her. She told me he was becoming too involved; the relationship moving beyond a fling, and the best thing she could do was break it off.
“I’m going back to work this week,” I tell her.
“Good,” she says, “you need some focus. Are you going to start training again?”
“Yes, I’ve wallowed enough in self-pity. Trey’s been on his own for months. I can only hide in my room pretending to do the accounts for so long. And…” I pause, not sure how to say the next words.
“And?” she prompts. She pauses the movie, sits up and turns to face me. Her eyes are wide, focused on me and what I’m going to say. My friend is a gem of a woman. I love her like the sister I lost. The familiar ache in my chest makes an appearance when I think of my sister. It still hurts.
“And,” I say, closing my eyes then taking a breath, “he’s not coming back. It’s been weeks with no word except for the paperwork from his lawyer.”
I look over to the brown envelope lying untouched on the coffee table. It’s a proposal for the swift settlement of our divorce. The coffee ring bled into the corner of the envelope, staining the solicitor’s logo.
When the blasted thing arrived two weeks ago, I’d held it like a venomous snake, too scared to open it. Every word inside was a nail sealing the coffin of our marriage. My stomach fell to my toes. You see, even though months have passed, I still hoped he would come home to me.
Ben is tight-lipped about anything to do with Terry. I know he’s spoken to him. All he’s told me is he’s rented an apartment on the outskirts of the city and has been taking extra shifts at work to pay for it.
Our apartment is another issue we need to fix. It will need to be sold to release funds for both of us, as I have no idea what I’ll be able to afford. Katie contributes what she can, but her finances are a rollercoaster in themselves. She has no guaranteed income to rely on.
Things are tight, but we’re managing. Just.
“Amz,” Katie says, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m glad you’ve accepted that.”
“You knew he wouldn’t come back?” I ask. She nods, sadly. “How?”
“Because he loves you,” she says, and my mouth falls open. She giggles, but it’s tinged with sadness. “Terry adores you; you’ve been his priority for years. He wouldn’t have left unless he had to. Unless what he needs is deathly important to him. He would never hurt you unnecessarily.”
I press my knuckles to my lips, pinning the sound in my throat. The air goes thin. I can barely breathe. Everything feels hollow; the only grounding I have is a heavy ache somewhere under my ribs.
“I’m so sorry this has happened to you, honey. Life really is a bitch sometimes.”
“I miss him,” I whisper. “It feels as though I’m missing a limb.”
She stands and comes to sit on the sofa next to me where I lie. Her hand strokes my hair, and she focuses on me, her eyes boring into mine.
“Listen to me,” she says firmly, shifting closer. “No man controls your life or makes your life. You have one to live, you need to live it. Think of all the hard work you’ve put into that gym, and you’ve hardly been there. Think of Bex and what she’s missing out on with her son.”
She takes my hand and squeezes it softly.
“Amy, it’s your responsibility to make yourself happy. This isn’t the situation you thought you would be in, but you’re in it. You need to make the best of it and work out where you want to be.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes, not from tears but exhaustion. Every muscle in my face trembles with the effort of holding myself together. I stare at our joined hands, and everything else blurs.
“And I’m here for you every step of the way.”
The following day, I return to the gym with a renewed determination to do better.
To stop wallowing in my self-pity and start to have some routine in my life again.
I can’t spend every day scanning invoices into a computer for a few hours, then curling up on the sofa with crisps.
Six months off training has caused my body to soften, and I’ve lost a lot of my hard work along with my husband.
I’m furious with myself for losing focus.
***
Trey’s eyes pop open when he sees me. I never told him I planned to come in today…
in case I changed my mind. “Boss,” he shouts across the equipment before striding over to me.
“It’s great to see you.” He wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead.
“Please tell me you’re back to do some actual work. ”
I laugh and cling to my friend. He’s been amazing these past months, never complaining, just getting on with what needs to be done.
“Thank you,” I whisper, “thank you for everything. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. This place.” I signal to our surroundings with my hand. “This place would have been closed. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Well, you can,” he says with a smirk. “Can I have the weekend off?”
“Of course.” I giggle. “You can have every weekend until Christmas if you want it.”
He belly laughs and shakes his head. “No, no, no. This is my hiding place. I come here for a rest. Derek has me decorating.” He groans.
“Honestly, the man is a taskmaster. He’s even threatened to get the horsewhip out if I don’t paint faster.
” He grins. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. We could have some fun with that.”
I step back and hold up my hands in protest. “Too much information, Trey,” I squeal. “I really don’t need visions of you, Derek, and a horsewhip.”
He laughs.
“Do you want to scar me mentally before I’ve even got back to work?”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he says with a wink.
***
My first week back in the gym goes smoothly. Trey has the place running like a well-oiled machine. Everything is organized, clean, and processed. It’s amazing. I feel so lucky he chose to walk up my steps that day and ask for a job. Not only did I gain a wonderful friend, but I found a mentor.
It’s almost closing time, and the place is empty. The sound of booted feet walking across the floor grabs my attention, and I freeze. Who would be here at this time of night? I feel under my desk for the pepper spray I keep it hidden, just in case.
There is a soft tap on my office door. It’s slightly ajar, so I can see a large masculine figure on the other side.
“Come in,” I shout, and the door swings open.
Ivan Harley steps into the room, his piercing blue eyes fixed on me.
I’ve never seen him looking so casual in a white t-shirt and jeans.
Every time I’ve met him, we’ve been at events, and he’s always suited and booted with expensive shirts and Rolex watches.
Tonight, he almost looks normal. Dangerous still, but in an understated way.
He smiles and nods in greeting. “Hi,” I say, surprised by my visitor.
“Hello, Amy, it’s nice to see you again. Trey said you were back from your time away.”
A flicker of irritation sparks—why the hell has Trey been talking to him? Still, the way he says my name pulls my attention like gravity. His voice is low, smooth, rich like chocolate. The kind of tone that could talk anyone into anything.
“I was sorry to hear about your separation from your husband. Jerry, was it?”
“Terry,” I correct him.
“Ah yes. Well, he’s an interesting fellow. Anyway, I’m not going to beat around the bush with pleasantries,” he says. “I’m here to buy your gym.”
I gape at him and stammer, “What?”
“You heard me. You’re not a stupid woman. Divorce is a messy business. I’m sure the extra funds will come in handy. I want Bex’s New You. Ask me nicely, and I may even give you a job.”
“Why?” I ask, stunned and offended in the same heartbeat. “We’re so small. How could my little gym be of any benefit to you?”
He takes two long strides toward my desk, then leans over, placing his hands on the hardwood. His gaze pins me still in my seat. The scent of him, something musky and dark, like warm spice with a warning label. My pulse reacts, throbbing. I swallow hard.
He smiles, just a fraction, as though he knows his impact. His next words are almost under his breath, as if only meant for me.
“Amy Trodden,” he says.
“Corrigan,” I correct him. “My name is Amy Corrigan.” He raises an eyebrow.
“Amy Corrigan.” He emphasizes each syllable as if rolling my name over his tongue. “I prefer that.”
His lips curl upward, satisfied. “All you need to know is when I see something I want, I take it. No questions asked. Make me chase it…” He leans in, voice dropping to a dark promise. “And I’ll run hard to hunt it down.”
He flexes his fingers, and the muscles on his forearms pop. My breath stutters. I should tell him to leave. Tell him to take his masculine energy as far away from me as possible. But my body doesn’t get the message.
“Now the question is,” he murmurs, “are you going to make me run?”
I meet his gaze for a heartbeat. The air hums with silent challenge. I don’t know if we’re talking about the gym anymore. And I’m not sure if I care.