“Delay the inevitable,” she said quietly. Her arms went round my neck and she pulled herself to me, her naked against flush against mine. “You’re right. It will be all the sweeter. Like it was back then.”
Then she turned and walked her naked ass upstairs, another image for my memory book to show just how much I was owned by this woman. As I always had been.
***
Dear Claire,
Some days I wish I hadn’t left Oxford. I want to be back there, maybe taking my Master’s degree, walking through the city to see you. I miss Max, and even Jackson. I even fucking miss nine am lectures, because that’s a late start compared to what I’m doing now.
The physical shit is gruelling. I take a shower before bed and my muscles scream, but it’s good. It’s good because it stops me thinking about you for a few minutes at least, which sounds pathetic because it is. I’m twenty fucking two and I’m hung up on a girl who dumped me for no reason that I’m aware of.
I know you and I know you haven’t done it to be spiteful or to try to gain some power over me, because let’s be fucking honest, you already had that anyway. Something has happened to make you change your mind about me and I want to know what that is because I’d still like to fix it, to make everything better.
But I’d have still been out here, freezing my ass off because the heating’s broken and we’re out in the middle of fucksville. The guy next to me was finished by his fiancée before he came out here. She couldn’t cope with him being away and wanted to end it before she cheated. His mate told him that she was cheating already. He’s now trying to kill himself with training, doing deadlifts and shoulder presses that he shouldn’t be attempting and then getting wrecked in bars when we have a day off.
I don’t know how we would’ve been. You’re still at college. Would I have wanted you to wait for me and have you resent me when you wanted to move on? Would I have spent nights in my bed wondering what you were doing with who or who you wanted in your bed if I couldn’t be there?
I don’t know, Claire.
I slept with someone else. A woman I met in a bar with blonde hair. She looked nothing like you and I needed to pretend I’d moved on. And it was pretend because afterwards, when she’d left I felt as guilty as fuck. Not that I’d cheated, just that it wasn’t you and I’d made up my mind months before that I was yours - although my brother says I’m too young and too stupid to even think about being with anyone for more than a night.
I’m sorry. I wish I could fix things.
K
Chapter Thirteen
Claire
If there could be a whiter shade of pale on a human than Katie was right now I’d have liked to have seen it. Her make-up, expertly applied as normal, did nothing to cover the sheer anxiety and exhaustion she was feeling and I only hoped that the complete dick who called himself Dean Lacey didn’t take her appearance as a victory.
She’d hid behind large sunglasses and a wide brimmed sunhat, that although they drew attention, hid her identity well enough. She also looked like she’d lost more weight.
“I’d rather not see him,” she said, picking her fingers which I’d noticed had become a nervous habit. “I don’t know what to say to him.”
“You won’t have to say anything,” I said. “The mediator is seeing you both separately.”
So far it was going as I wanted it. The mediator had been happy with both parties having their lawyers present and being in separate rooms. I thought she had figured there was some form of abuse, because looking at the state of Katie, anyone would deduce that she was struggling.
The mediator, Carrie, entered, smiling sympathetically and offering water, which Katie declined. “Ms Worthington,” she said. “I’m going to start with you as you’re the spouse that’s initiated these proceedings. Tell me what you would like the outcome to be; what are you proposing as to how you split your assets.”
We’d already been through it on the phone but Carrie had said she’d talk Katie through it again in case anything had changed.
Katie used the notes we’d prepared to remind her, covering everything from the two houses and apartment, the savings and assets we were aware of, the small business they shared and insisting that she was not interested in causing any kind of social furore if they could agree on terms amicably.
“You signed a pre-nuptial agreement but your lawyer,” she gestured to me, “claims that it’s invalid for a multitude of reasons. Mr Lacey’s lawyers refute that claim but say they’re willing to negotiate. That’s been made clear to me in the phone call I had with Mr Lacey.” She stood up and banged her papers to neaten them.
I liked her so far; she seemed impartial which was necessary but I had a distinct air of no bullshit from her which I also liked.
“Have a coffee or tea and I’ll be back shortly.”
It was another forty-five minutes before she returned, her expression slightly frustrated. “Okay. This is what Mr Lacey is offering. He’s decided that the pre-nup will be classed as null and void if you agree to marriage guidance counselling with him. He is adamant that he does not want a divorce.”
There was silence from Katie.
“Ms Worthington, you don’t have to agree. I can see that this isn’t something you want to do. And it makes the negotiation on the pre-nup pointless anyway.” She shrugged.
Katie looked at me, her eyes wet and she tried to wipe the tears away.
