“Anyway, I told him all about you. He gave me a lift home.”
His face relaxes a little, so that bit is probably true.
“Hmm, that sounds nice,” I say, taking a sip of my wine, evaluating my approach. “What shop were you at?” I ask innocently, keeping my tone light.
“Near the bakery on Main Street.”
“Who did you talk to there? You seem to know a fair few people round here,” I ask quickly, trying to catch him
Alexandra Ravensbrook
off guard. If he’s telling the truth, he won’t have an issue answering.
He takes his seat and fumbles his cutlery, dropping them in the process. “Erm, I can’t remember, actually…”
My heart sinks. My James is lying to me; does he not trust me? All this time, all the shit that’s going on, I spilled my soul to him, tore out all my secrets from within for him to know me, and he chooses to lie. That's what hurts the most.
“Cut the shit, James. You’re so transparent you may as well be glass. Your face gives you away. Tell me the truth. How did you hurt your hand?” My voice is flat and cold now. Emotions are firmly tucked away from the light of day. I can hide better than he can; I can guarantee that. If I let my emotions out, I won’t rein them back in. I need to stay in control. I feel like I'm spiralling, and I need to stop; somehow, I need it all to stop.
He sits back and runs his hands over his face, turning to me, a look of pain filling his eyes.
Oh shit. No, this isn’t just lying. I look at him, my shell cracking open at the realisation. Something serious has happened, and he doesn’t want to tell me.
“Baby? Tell me,” I say, worrying what the hell has happened to make him seem in so much pain. When he doesn’t answer, I start to panic. My breathing quickens,
Yes, Miss
and I feel a cold sweat start to prick my skin. “Baby, you’re worrying me. Please.”
“I went to meet Rebecca for a coffee. I offered her my resignation. She refused it.” He looks down at his glass and takes a deep sigh, a look of resignation over his face.
“What? Why? Why would you do that, James?” I ask, shocked and so disappointed that he felt he had to give up everything.
“I brought all this to your door, Iz. I feel so helpless sitting here, waiting for judgement and a decision from some guy who doesn't even know me.”
My heart aches for him. At least I had been able to put my anger and anxiety to some use. Why hadn’t he talked to me about it, though? That’s what hurts. But it still doesn’t explain his hand.
“So, did you punch Rebecca when she refused it?” I ask, my voice still cold and flat. I cannot feel emotion right now. I school myself. Don’t let it in.
His head shoots up, his expression one of total confusion. Then it clicks, and he looks away once again.
“I saw Laura,” he mutters. “We had a disagreement in the street, she called me a few names, the usual.” He shrugs, and I know he’s getting closer to the truth, so why doesn’t he just spit it out for God’s sake?
Alexandra Ravensbrook
“Ok…” I struggle to see how that injured his hand. I know he wouldn’t have hit Laura, no matter how much he hates her. “How did your hand get injured, James? Tell me the truth. Right now.” My voice is sterner now.
“She had a guy with her…” He shrugs.
“Were you jealous? Jesus fucking Christ, James, please tell me you don’t still have feelings for Laura!” My heart pounds, and I feel sick at the thought. Why would he punch this guy?
My eyes start to fill with tears that I’m desperate to hold back. I’m an idiot. The overwhelming urge to cry is teetering on the edge of my sanity, and I’m going to lose control. Why couldn’t I have seen this earlier? Why is Laura such a bitch to him if she doesn’t want him back? Does he feel the same? I thought he understood me.
We promised to always fight together, for each other. I wandered in, fell in love with him, and he’s still in love with his psycho ex-wife.
“No! Iz, please believe me!” he stammers, his voice rising a notch. He shoots up from his chair and paces around the dining room, looking every inch the cornered tiger. “Iz, trust me. Just drop it, please?” he begs, his arms crossing over his broad chest.
What the hell is he hiding?
