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“I love you so, so much,” I told him, needing him to know how much I cared, but he just rolled his eyes at me and hopped out of my lap.
“I know that already, Auntie Lo.” He wandered off into the kitchen and came back a moment later with a bowl of ice-cream, his tears completely forgotten. I lay back on the sofa and allowed the wave of impending relief to finally crash over me. I had told them I was leaving and the world hadn’t broken. They were going to be okay without me and I would be okay without them. All I needed to do now was decide which direction I was going to go.
I heard the faint rumble of an engine outside and Ryan hopped up from his place in front of the TV to peer out the window, his ice-cream still in hand. Immediately, he began to hop up and down.
“Auntie Lo! The noble steed is here!”
And just like that, the memory of Bradley’s mouth on mine came flooding back to me.
Today wasn’t over.
It wasn’t over by a long shot.
I took a deep breath and stepped outside, ready to face Alfie, but instead I found Elliot.
“Where’s Alfie?” Just his name in my mouth felt as though I had a dagger made for the guilty seated in my stomach. It twisted and burned, reminding me of my treachery.
“He has business to attend to and sends his apologies that he couldn’t collect you himself.” Elliot held the passenger door open for me, knowing that I preferred it to sitting in the back. He offered me a small smile, which for Elliot was the equivalent of a bear hug and a high five.
“That’s okay, but maybe I should just stay here? I mean, if he’s going to be working all evening anyway he won’t even notice if I’m not there.”
“He’ll notice, Miss.” He meant well but all his words did was push the guilt dagger deeper into my gut. I nodded and got into the car. Elliot, ever the professional, maintained his steady silence, though I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he wouldn’t notice something was wrong.
The drive to The Carlton was over too fast. I fidgeted the whole way and barely managed a goodbye to Elliot as I stepped out of the Rolls. Alfie and I had come so far, the very dress I wore was a testament to that, and now I couldn’t fight the sinking feeling that I was about to destroy it all.
The suite was dark, ghostly. I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress, my beautiful red dress, that Alfie would no doubt tear intoshreds when I told him what I’d done, or rather, what I’d allowed Bradley to do.
I didn’t know what he would do. Would he throw me out? Would he punish-fuck me until I cried? I just didn’t know, but I knew that whatever he did, I deserved it. If he had kissed Angie…just the thought had me gritting my teeth.
I fought the urge to turn and run back to the lift. I forced myself up the stairs and to his office door, my heartbeat getting louder with every step down the darkened hallway. Should I knock? I could picture him on the other side of that door, seated at his desk with that awful, blank look on his face.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking and I clenched them into fists. I was scared. Every fight that we’d ever had had been caused by Alfie’s issues, Alfie’s fuck-ups, and they’d been resolved with my patience and understanding. But this fuck-up was all mine and Alfie didn’t do ‘patience and understanding.’
I took a breath and opened the door. The room was dimly lit and he sat at the large desk, the moonlight at his back, his face draped in the mask I’d seen him wear so often. The scene before me was exactly as I’d pictured it, except that I hadn’t pictured the vases of pink bleeding hearts that littered every available surface. I counted ten of them scattered around the room, huge bouquets of my flower sprinkled with delicate sprigs of baby’s breath. The sight of them should please me but instead all they did was twist the dagger deeper in my gut.
“Come here.” His voice startled me out of my guilt-ridden thoughts. I needed to tell him. I needed to say it from over here, at a safe distance. Once I was over there, he would touch me and I would fall apart. I opened my mouth to speak my sin but instead, the cord that attached me to Alfie constricted and I found my feet moving towards him.
He stalked me with his gaze and as soon as I was close, he reached for me, his hands bunching in the material of my dressand pulling me towards him. He seemed to revel in the warmth of the cotton, the sight of his gift on my skin. That hurt me too. Every instant with him only deepened my betrayal.Why did I do it? Why didn’t I just push Bradley away?
I expected Alfie to kiss me, to sprawl me over his desk and seek solace in me the way he always did, but instead he leant into me, his forehead resting against my stomach, his hands fisting the folds of my dress. He just seemed so tired.
“Whatever it is you do that makes me feel better, please do it.” His words shattered me, snapped me right down the middle, and I knew in that moment I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t. It would break him. My mum’s necklace burned on my sternum, weighing heavy and reminding me of her admonishments about lying. But lying with good reason…that couldn’t be entirely wrong, could it?
I pushed my fingers into his hair, gently stroking, trying to ease whatever it was that troubled him. I didn’t know what it was that I did that made him feel better. I’d only ever done what came naturally to me, so that was all I did now.
Long minutes passed as I held him, and eventually his shoulders dropped, his grip on my dress eased up, and he sighed, one long expelling breath.
He leant backwards, pulling me with him until I straddled him. The position surprised me. Alfie never allowed me on top. His hands found my waist and he contented himself with gazing up at me. It was something he did often and I’d never gotten used to it. I didn’t have the confidence to relax as someone scoured every minute detail of my face. Tonight, I was scared he would see what I was hiding. I was scared he would see Bradley’s stain on my lips. His fingertips idled under my dress, stroking the skin of my thigh.
“Let your hair down,” he said, his voice a deep husk. I pulled out the clip that held part of my hair off my face and tossed itonto his desk. His hand found my hair, twisting it through his fingers before winding it around his fist. He brought it to his nose and inhaled.
“Bad day?” I asked. He released my hair and resumed winding it through his fingers, meditating on it as he did so, the moonlight catching the red in my locks.
“Just the same day. Over and over.” His stupid phone chose that moment to pierce the air with its tinny shriek. He tensed and reached for it robotically, but without thinking I scooped it up, rejected the call, and switched it off altogether. I tossed it onto his desk and turned back to find him staring at me.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No.” He shook his head, his hand releasing my hair in favour of the tie at my waist, his other hand still buried under my dress, his thumb tracing warm, heated circles on my skin.