I shrug. I don’t really care about all this. We can sell the penthouse if we need to. I used to love it, but at the end of the day, it’s just concrete and pretty paint. The memories it holds though… I shake them away. I won’t think about those –him– right now. I’m being petty, I know it, but so what? I think I deserve a moment to stew in my anger and annoyance after all of this. And stewing is exactly what I’ve been doing since I left the hospital. It’s a foreign feeling that I hate, because it’s not me. Or not the me I was before all of this.
Crossing my arms, I tuck my broken wrist – now secured in a blue cast – against my chest.
“Unfortunately,” Clive starts, looking at me and then my dad, “the allowance you were sending Darius each month will no longer be available.”
My dad frowns, opening his mouth to speak, but I lift my hand to stop him. “That’s fine.” I stand, stepping back and puttingspace between me and the man who raised me. “Is that all? Can I go now?”
“I’m sorry about all this,” my father repeats for the hundredth time, like that five letter word can fix all his wrongs. The real world doesn’t work like that. Sometimes the real world really fucking sucks.
“So you’ve said,” I snap.
He dips his head, not meeting my eyes. I’m grateful that he put an end to all the fuckery with Floyd, but I never would have been in that situation in the first place, if not for him. I love him – I always will – but after the A&E doctors examined me and I’d given my statement to the police, I had a moment to reflect on the past few months, and my entire life. It was then, under the relief of painkillers for my horribly bruised ribs and broken wrist, I realised how bloody angry I was. Dad wants my forgiveness, but it’s not on offer right now, maybe not ever.
“One more matter, Darius,” Clive interrupts, holding a folder out towards me. I take it, flip it open and read the contents. “These are the papers to start the process of an annulment from Mr Hastings. Because your marriage was entered into under duress, we don’t foresee any delays in getting this completed. Floyd has been arrested and will be charged for the blackmail and the assault on both you and Mr Cross.”
“Okay,” I reply. “Where do I sign?”
Clive runs through the paperwork with me and once we’re done, I turn and walk out of the office and my stepmum’s house without so much as a goodbye.
It’s mid-morning, and I don’t have a shift at the coffee shop until later in the week. I suppose I need to consider taking on more shifts now, or finding another job. I push the idea aside for another day, then cut through the park until the dog shelter is in front of me.
The receptionist, Joanie, beams when I enter, before her eyes catch on my cast. I haven’t been in since all the shit with Floyd started – no one here even knows I got married, and I want to keep it that way. Thankfully, she doesn’t enquire about my injury, just greets me with her usual pleasantries while I sign in as a volunteer on the touch screen attached to her desk.
“A new greyhound came in last night,” Joanie says. “She was left on the side of the motorway – we suspect she’s another ex-racing dog. The vet checked her over this morning, and she’s in good health. Do you want to take her out for a walk?”
“Poor pup. Yeah, I’ll do that.”
Joanie tells me which kennel the dog, Sunny, is sleeping in and I walk down the long corridor, to the sound of yapping and paws on concrete, until I find her. She’s a small blue, with a shiny grey coat and white fur around her muzzle.
“Hello, pup.” Moving slowly so as not to startle her, I open her kennel and walk inside, holding out my hand. She takes a tentative step forward and licks my fingers. “Want to go for a walk?” At my question, Sunny’s deep brown eyes meet mine and she wags her tail. The kind of wag that is so full of excitement, it shakes her entire body. I love her immediately. “Okay, let’s do this!”
Once she has a harness on, I attach the lead and walk through the enclosed garden, where a pack of dogs are chasing a ball with some of the other volunteers. I wave my cast covered hand in greeting, then exit through the back gate with Sunny trotting happily at my side.
The charity is located a few roads over from a large park with a gravel path that weaves through trees and comes out at a large fountain. It’s warm out, and the park is busy for a weekday morning, so we pass several other dogs, kids on scooters and mothers with strollers as we meander down the shaded path. Sunny stops to sniff patches of grass, and tree trunks, whichmeans our walk is slow, but she’s happy and though happy isn’t how I would describe myself, I’m content for the moment. We loop around the fountain, following the path on the other side in the opposite direction. There’s a row of benches set slightly off the gravel, and I lead Sunny over to them, then sit down. She rests her head on my knees, studying me with deep, soulful brown eyes.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I snap a photo of her and go to send it to Oliver, pausing before I hit send. His last two messages nearly broke me – and I haven’t found the words to reply. Not when I’m feeling so raw from everything that happened. Scrolling up, I read them again.
Ollie:I’m sorry I went behind your back, but not sorry for what happened after. I hope you can forgive me, but if you can’t just know that loving you has been the best part of my life. Thank you for loving me back.
Ollie:Did I ruin us?
Blinking to clear the burn in my eyes, I close my phone and shove it back in my pocket. He didn’t. I still love him – more than I ever have – but it’s tainted by this anger that’s gnawing at me – anger I do not know how to force away.
If I was giving anyone else advice, I’d tell them to talk it out. I’d say that the silence and distance are doing more harm than good. But I’m struggling to take my own advice. The physical and emotional toll the entire situation took on me has made it difficult to think clearly – like all my thoughts and feelings are a big jumbled mess. A mess I have decided to sort out alone.
Relationships are not a balanced scale. Lean on him.
“Ugh,” I sigh, getting annoyed at the thought because I know it’s right. “What should I do, pup?”
Sunny blinks back at me, moving to nuzzle her head at my pocket where she knows I have treats. I chuckle at her insistence, then give her two, which she swallows with gusto.
Melancholy settles in my bones as I stand and lead Sunny back to the shelter. I would usually walk a few other dogs when I’m in, but today I feel too emotionally drained to do even that. So, I return to Caiden and Jamie’s flat – where I’ve been sleeping on their sofa since leaving A&E two days ago. My penthouse is too empty and, if I’m honest with myself, the only place I want to be is back in Ollie’s bed. Because that’s the only place that truly feels like home.
Sitting crossed-legged on Caiden’s sofa, Ford curls up on my lap and I stroke him, setting off a loud purr. Animals are great. They’re not complicated. They give love and all they ask for in return is the same.
Maybe I should get a pet. A dog like Sunny, or a cat like Ford.
Shortly after five, Caiden walks in dressed in cargo trousers and the polo top bearing the logo of the landscaping company he works for. I’m watching a home renovations show, which I pause when he sits down next to me. His cat abandoning my lap in favour of his owner.
