“What’s wrong with your face?” So much forthattheory.
“There’s nothing wrong with it, this is just how my face is.” I scowl, all pretence of being on friendly terms with Connor out the window.
“You were baring your teeth at me,” he says flatly.
“I was smiling.” My response comes with a free eye-roll. I call it the ‘Connor Special’, as only he can elicit this response from me, considering my usually placid demeanour.
“Is that what that was? I thought you had something stuck up your—”
“Did you get Ivy’s message?” I’m growing annoyed with him already. Maybe a soulless hotel would have been the betteroption?
Connor hides a smile. “About you and Rhys getting a divorce? Yeah, I got the message. It’s the only reason I agreed to open the door to you, actually.”
“Who said anything about a divorce?” I haven’t really thought through the consequences of leaving Rhys yet; everything’s happened too quickly. Connor’s brows knit together in confusion, but I speak before he has chance to. “Anyway, can I come in or what? It’s freezing out here.”
“It’s June.”
I practically growl at him and shoulder my way into the beautiful two-bedroom detached house. With Connor’s athletic build, he could easily block the shove, even one backed bymyweight, but he moves aside and closes the door behind me, then leans against it and crosses his arms, pushing his biceps out in a practised pose.
To any unsuspecting woman, Connor would probably be considered attractive. Hot, even. But to me, Connor has always been Ivy’s brother, two years older than us, who relentlessly torments me whenever he sees me. The wavy brown hair (that he intentionally lets fall into his face, by the way, so that women are tempted to reach out and brush it back for him) does nothing for me. His deep brown eyes, which I’m sure look like warm pools of molten chocolate that other women would want to swim in, don’t affect me at all. And the dark stubble on his tanned face? Who cares. *Eye-roll*. I certainly wouldn’t ever be interested in knowing how it would feel brushing against my…
Okay, so maybe I find him a little bit attractive physically. But that doesn’t change the fact that Connor is a Dick with a capital D. Unfortunately, I’ve been staring at aforementionedDick for longer than is socially acceptable without speaking, so it looks like I’ve been checking him out. And the smirk on thebastard’s face tells me he’s noticed.
“Put your tongue back in, Tilly, you’re drooling on the new carpet.”
“Don’t be disgusting, I just zoned out for a minute. It’s been a pretty long day.”
He nods. “Mm-hmm. Seriously, though, are you okay?”
Connor’s concern actually seems genuine: colour me shocked. Unsure how to respond, having never seen this side of him before, I do what any sane person would do. I stand and stare at him with my mouth hanging open like a goldfish.
“What?” he asks, uncharacteristically bashful.
“You sounded sincere,” I say, letting my surprise shine through.
“Yeah, well… Ivy made me promise to check in on you.” And just like that, the sincerity has gone, and his usual cocky expression is back. I should have known it was too good to be true. “You know where her room is. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Connor winks at me, just because he knows it makes me uncomfortable, and walks off towards the stairs.
Once I get to Ivy’s room I collapse onto the bed and take a deep breath. This morning when I woke up and went to work, it was just another ordinary day. I’d made it to school in time to make a cuppa in my ‘World’s Best Teacher’ cup, made it through my lessons (with the now expected additions of photocopier jams, playground fallouts and parent emails), nipped to the supermarket for Rhys’s organic British grass-fed steak before heading home. And that’s when it went to shit.
The memory of Rhys leaning over that perfect-bodied gym bunny is ingrained in my memory, and now that I’m alone with my thoughts, I can’t get away from the image. This would usually be the point that I’d play an audiobook or some music to block out said thoughts, but I don’t want to risk drawing Connor’s attention by playing it out loud, and I left my earbuds at home.What used to be my home.
Still would have been your home if you’d gotten your shit together. You pushed Rhys to sleep with other women because you weren’t up to the job. You should have spent less time reading books and eating biscuits and more time shifting the weight.
For the first time since finding out the truth, I allow the tears to fall. ‘Allow’ seems like the wrong word. A more accurate description would be the tears force themselves from my eyes whether I want them to or not. I sit up and curl my knees to my chest, resting my elbows on my knees as I push my fingers into my hair and hold my head. I call it my ‘get ready to spiral out of control’ pose.
This was bound to happen eventually.
My face heats and I feel myself going red. I know exactly how awful I look right now without the need of a mirror.
Why would anyone want you when you look like this? You’re a fucking mess.
My breathing becomes ragged, and the room slowly starts to spin as I feel the familiar pull of a panic attack looming.
Stupid bitch. You’re a liability. You’re failing at everything that matters and it’s affecting the people around you.
I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as my chest begins to ache. Heart attack? No: guilt and shame.
It would be so much better for everyone if you weren’t around anymore. Do the right thing. Put everyone out of their misery.
