‘There.’ I place the glasses down on the table, before straightening and brushing away the beery splashes from my outfit. ‘You are the kind of man who givemankind a terrible name, Luke.’ I announce this rather loudly, the crowd around us beginning to jeer. ‘Ladies, take a good look at this pretty face,’ I announce. ‘Remember it, because behind it hides a liar and a cheat. And if you’re still tempted, if you just can’t resist a pretty face, you should know I have it on good authority,’ I add, point to the girls on the other table, ‘that he also has a pencil dick.’
I pull my purse higher on my shoulder and leave to the sound of cheers.
English drinkers are easily entertained. They get super excited if someone behind the bar so much as breaks a glass...
Chapter 43
OLIVIA
Back out on the street, my footsteps are quick and light on the pavement. No stomping for me. No more dragging my heels or moping. And no more tears. I’m done with all that. And after tonight, no more beers because my shirt reeks of the stuff. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to drink it again.
I suddenly realise what I should’ve done. I was waiting for anger to come to me, when what I should’ve done is reached inside, past the sadness and grief and what ifs, into the very heart of me.
I’m looking at this all wrong.
I’m not the woman who was blackmailed into marriage.
I’m the woman who married a man to get whatshewanted.
I’ve had the power all along, and I am the woman who will have her say.
All that I owe you was written into the contract.
Oh, Beckett, you are so very wrong. And you are about to discover just that.
I hail a black cab in the middle of the street, almost falling into the seat in my haste to get in. I give the cabbie Beckett’s address, but the minute the door closes, fear starts to creep back in. What had felt so certain, so right outside on the street, begins to feel like the opposite. But there’s no going back as the taxi merges with the evening traffic. And there’s no going back because, from now on, I must move forward. If he doesn’t want me, fine. I’ll learn to live with that. I mean, it’ll still hurt, because I love him. But I need him to hear that. I need him to know, to look at me as I tell him. And I need him to hear what a prick he’s been.
If he’s home.
He packed a case, my mind oh-so helpfully supplies.
Luke was most likely lying. Maybe he hasn’t been into the office at all.
He’s probably gone on vacation to escape this exact scenario; his ex turning up on the doorstep, causing drama.
After all, this isn’t his first marriage rodeo.
Or maybe I won’t even get as far as his front door.
Maybe he’ll have changed the codes for the gate.
And I’ll look like an idiot.
‘You visiting someone, love?’ the cabbie asks, pulling me from my riotous thoughts.
‘Er, yeah. You could say that.’ Some would say visiting. Some would say delivering a smackdown.
‘It’s a nice area.’
‘It is.’ Furtively tipping my nose to my chest, I realise I still smell like a brewery. Damn.
‘Got to have plenty of money to live ’round here.’
‘Really? I wouldn’t know. Oh, look, we’re here.’
The cabbie pulls a little past the keypad and I lean out of the window to key in the digits. My relief is great as the gates begin to open slowly.
His Mercedes is parked at the top of the driveway. I take that as a promising sign as I pay my fare and step onto the path.
