#and when shes inevitably put down i will cradle her broken body and howl. know this.

[valtsv]

i don't think it will fix her or in any way make up for the new war crimes she invented but i'm still rooting for VAL thesiltverses to bite the hand that fed the god that ate her and become a weapon they can't control

[sorrelsummerisle]

Oblivious

Weeks passed as Sorrel tried to forget about Isander. Despite asking if he could return, visit, the druid had not. The part of Sorrel that had no idea how to be around people was relieved. The part of him that saw Isander’s eyes in every sunset was not, and cried in despair. He fished only enough to support himself and avoided Auberdine.

Cursed himself for hoping. 

Then one night, not long after sunset -

“How do you get fresh water?”

Sorrel startled and scrambled up from mending nets to find Isander climbing out of the water. His arm was wrapped tightly in supportive bandaging and Sorrel cursed himself internally. How could Isander have reached him with it broken?

“...Row to shore, go upstream and collect it. In barrels,” replied Sorrel. “Hello.”

Isander beamed like moonlight through storm clouds. “Hello. That seems like an awful lot of effort. How are you?”

“Fine. You? Your arm?” Sorrel sat back down to the nets because he had no idea what else to do. 

“Pretty much better now,” said Isander, coming to sit beside Sorrel. “Finally got the all clear to shapeshift and swim. I was so bored, you’ve no idea. Don’t know how I managed before I was trained.”

“Like the rest of us I expect.”

“Ah, Sorrel. There’s no one like me.” Isander grinned broadly and reached for a net. With easy familiarity he took up twine and needle and set to work. “Is this alright? You did say I could visit.”

Blinking in surprise, Sorrel nodded. “S’fine. You don’t have to…” He gestured to the net.

“What if I want to?”

Sorrel shrugged. “Couldn’t stop you if I tried, could I?”

Isander laughed brightly. “You know me so well already!”

Sorrel grunted and found himself smiling. “D’you want tea?”

“Yes please.”

-

A pattern emerged in the months following. Every few nights Isander would turn up, making Sorrel’s heart jump each time he emerged from the sea, water cascading down his body, darkening his hair… And apparently unaware of the effect he was having. 

He then proceeded to follow Sorrel around and assist in whatever he was doing, whether that was mending nets, drying fish, making repairs to the cottage or going out to seek the night’s catch in the choppy waters. Is this alright? The constant refrain, as if Sorrel could ever want to turn him away. 

They talked too. Isander about his life on the shore, his twin, and duties as a druid, tending to the community and the land under the guidance of his Shan’do. He worked hard, but he loved the work, the land, and the people. He knew every name, every story, and Sorrel wondered if Isander was trying to absorb him into the flock. It was the rational explanation. 

In time, Sorrel told Isander things. About the seas, the fish, the seals and the small pod of orcas he saw sometimes. Eventually, haltingly, about his parents. His mother, raised to rule a grand estate, who smiled and called herself the Lady of the Rock with joy and grace. His father quietly and deeply devoted, slightly too tall, long-armed, his family a mystery. 

“Where are they?” asked Isander, softly and carefully enough that he already knew the answer. 

“Gone. They… She loved us, never regretted a thing, she said. But… She wasn’t made for this life. Wasn’t built for it. Without her magic, she just… faded. And she was his reason for everything.” Sorrel cleared his throat and felt Isander’s hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry. They sound wonderful. Well, they must have been. They made you, after all.” 

Sorrel snorted. “M’no masterpiece.”

Isander opened his mouth, then closed it again and looked perplexed at himself. Sorrel didn’t push it.

When the Lunar Festival came, Isander was busy with his duties in Auberdine, but somehow a small shrine appeared in Sorrel’s cottage. A softly glowing moonstone and two coins of ancestry, surrounded by fresh flowers and rice cakes. No note, but the message was clear, and Sorrel knelt in prayer for the first time since he had lost them. 

-

It happened so gradually that Sorrel barely noticed, until one night he looked up and found his cottage changed. Here was the rug Isander had brought over after complaining about how cold the floor got. Here were the new cushions on the couch, the fruit bowl, Isander’s forgotten cloak hung up on the door. Books stacked on the table that he insisted Sorrel had to read, that Sorrel had obediently read and privately thought were terrible.

Somehow Isander had become part of Sorrel’s life, his world, and he had not noticed it happening because he was too caught up in simply noticing Isander.

It was thrilling and terrifying. Sorrel wanted to demand why, but was so afraid it would go away that he remained mute.

Isander had not slept at the cottage again since the storm. They had both been careful, in fact, not to let him get trapped on the tiny island again. Isander had duties on land and Sorrel wasn’t sure if he could stand another period of torment like that now. Not without doing something.

So when thunder boomed in the distance and the sky flashed purple, the last thing he expected was Isander emerging from the waves with a watertight basket and his usual easy grin.

“What’re you doing here? You won’t get back!” said Sorrel, as he finished securing the window shutters.

Isander twisted the water from his hair casually. “Eilura made you bread and it wouldn’t have kept if I’d waited.”

Sorrel frowned. “It’s just bread.”

“And I hadn’t seen you since the new moon,” said Isander, breezing past him and into the cottage to put the kettle on and build up the fire.

Sorrel stared at his disappearing back in utter confusion. 

“You’re going to let the rain in!” called Isander. 

At a loss, Sorrel finished up the shutters and followed Isander inside, closing the door behind him.

-

They kept busy to begin with. Sorrel made sure everything was wind-tight and waterproof against the howling wind and driving rain. Isander constructed a meal with the bread and whatever he found in Sorrel’s larder. Then the thunder made it hard to hear one another so they were obliged to be silent as they ate. 

All the while Isander could see Sorrel getting more and more agitated. It was too much. Every time he looked at Sorrel he found Sorrel looking back at him, face crinkled with bewilderment. He looked as if he was sure Isander could see straight into his mind. His soul. If only. 

A lull in the storm drew them closer to the fire, cradling mugs of tea. Sorrel seemed unable to break the silence, as if he was waiting for Isander to do it for him. Isander’s voice had fled him, right when he most needed it, but he drew in a breath to try anyway and felt Sorrel exhale beside him.

“My sister said something that upset me today,” began Isander. “Do you want to know what it was?”

Sorrel grunted in the vague affirmative and stared intently into his tea. It was a reaction at least. Isander counted it a victory. “She told me,” said Isander. “That if I was messing you about I ought to stop because it’s not fair. Because you’re a good man, and very kind to me, and you deserve better than me playing my usual games.”

He watched Sorrel’s craggy face intently. The sting of it still lingered, the ghost of the argument. Sorrel stared resolutely at the fire and said nothing.

“And that upset me… I couldn’t work out why at first. Why I was offended. It felt like she had insulted you somehow. No one should be allowed to do that, you don’t… Well you don’t deserve it. Any of it. But it wasn’t that. She wasn’t insulting you, she was insulting me. Or rather… Wow this is hard.” Isander raked a hand through his hair and set his tea aside. “I wish you’d say something.”

Sorrel could not even look at him. His shoulders hunched against disappointment. The wind keened across the top of the chimney. It was the only reply Isander was going to get so he went on, keenly aware of how his voice was cracking and wobbling.

“It hurt because… Because I’m not playing any games with you. I am, actually, for once in my life, absolutely serious. About you. I… I really care about you, Sorrel. I can’t stop thinking about you. I keep finding the stupidest excuses to come out here and I keep--”

“That’s enough!” yelped Sorrel. He was on his feet in an instant, pacing the cottage like a caged tiger. “Why? Why are you doing this? Why me?”

Isander watched him warily, so afraid to cause harm. “Because you’re amazing. Beautiful, I... “

“Don’t. Don’t tell me I’m… I’m not that. I’m ugly. And you’re… you’re the beautiful one and you know it, everyone knows it, and you ought to be with someone like that. Like you.” Sorrel gestured roughly toward Isander as if that could help explain the vast chasm of difference between them. 

Isander caught his hand and held it fast, pushing to his feet to get into Sorrel’s space. 

Sorrel tried to pull away and found himself tethered. He felt a dire need to become invisible, that if Isander saw the anguish written on Sorrel’s face he would run out into the storm and never come back. Or something worse. He dragged the hand not caught by Isander up to his own face and covered it, fingers catching on his too-heavy brow, the broad bridge of his nose, his teeth…

“Sorrel, Sorrel…” crooned Isander,drawing ever closer. “It’s alright. Please look at me. Let me look at you.” 

His deft fingers pried, carefully, until he held both of Sorrel’s hands with his own and Sorrel’s face was bare to him. 

“When I look at the cliffs I see your face. You’re in the crags, the rocks, the storms battering the shore. All of it. I love this land, and you are this land. You’re… you’re home, Sorrel. My home.”

The rawness in Isander’s tone startled Sorrel into looking up at him. Isander who, to Sorrel, was the sea. The inevitability of the currents, the lulling waves, the twining wildlife and the deep ocean sunsets painted gold and crimson on the water. Isander who was looking at him, who returned to him on every tide, face so sincere and open it made his heart twist painfully. 

Isander who so clearly read everything Sorrel could never find the words to say on his face and understood it all perfectly. 

Heart kicking like a snared rabbit and a fist-sized lump in his throat, Sorrel allowed Isander to slip around him, chest to chest, lips brushing against his cheek. 

Lightning flashed and froze the moment in quicksilver brightness. 

And when the thunder followed their mouths met as the air shook around them. 

[anavoliselenu]

Confessed man chapter 8

‘Don’t lie to me, Ward. I look like shit.’

‘Selena,’ he scorns me gently. I don’t apologise, mainly because I can barely muster up the energy to speak. ‘You need to eat.’

I retch at the very thought of trying to get food into my stomach and shake my head pleadingly. I know that I’m fighting a losing battle. He won’t leave me alone until I’ve had some breakfast.

I hear the front door open and close, and then the chirpy sounds of Cathy singing. All I have on is Justin’s shirt, but I can’t even find the strength to be concerned by that, so I remain exactly where I am, unconcerned, unbothered and very unwell.

‘Morning!’ she sings at us as she places her huge carpet bag on the worktop. ‘Oh dear. Whatever is the matter?’

Justin answers for me, which is a good job because I’m incapable of speech. ‘Selena’s not feeling too good.’

I scoff at his understatement and direct my forehead straight to his chest. I feel positively dull—dead, even.

‘Oh, the dreaded morning sickness? It’ll pass.’ Cathy declares, like I don’t look like I’m ready to keel over. She knows, too, then.

‘Will it?’ I garble into Justin’s chest. ‘When?’ I feel his hand stroking my back and his mouth in my hair, kissing me dotingly, but he remains silent. It’s a good indication that he would love to know the answer, too.

‘It depends. Boy, girl, mum, dad.’ she says, and I hear her flick the kettle on. ‘Some women have a few weeks of it, some struggle throughout the whole of their pregnancy.’

‘Oh God.’ I howl. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘Shhh,’ Justin hushes me and increases the rubs of my back. I’m not even being a baby. It really is that bad.

‘Ginger!’

That one random word drags my splattered face from Justin’s wet torso. ‘What?’

‘Ginger!’ she repeats, rootling through her bag. I look at Justin, but he looks as equally confused. ‘You need ginger, dear.’ She pulls out a pack of ginger biscuits. ‘I came prepared.’ She pushes Justin from in front of me and opens the packet, presenting me with a biscuit. ‘Have one every morning when you wake up. Works wonders! Eat.’

I wisely note that with Justin hovering in the background and with Cathy behaving all motherly, there’s little point in refusing, so I take the biscuit and have a little nibble.

‘It’ll settle your stomach.’ She gives me one of her warm smiles and cups my cheek with her hand. ‘I’m so excited.’

I can’t match her enthusiasm, not when I’m feeling like this, so I smile weakly and let Justin place me gently on a barstool.

‘The new boy gave me these,’ She hands Justin a pile of post. ‘Cute little bugger, isn’t he?’

That makes me laugh, especially when Justin lets out a disgusted snort and snatches the envelopes from her wrinkles fingers. ‘He’s very sweet.’ I confirm, suddenly finding the energy to form a whole sentence. ‘But won’t you miss Clive, Cathy?’

‘Oh, not at all,’ She gets the bagels out and holds them up, Justin and I both nodding our acceptance. ‘He’s taking me out this evening.’

I nudge Justin with my elbow as I nibble away at the edges of my biscuit, but I’m ignored. Instead of indulging my curious mind, he starts opening his post. ‘That’ll be nice.’ I chirp.

‘It will.’ she agrees, loading the toaster and fetching the eggs.

I’m happily chatting away to Cathy, eating my breakfast, listening to where Clive is taking her and filling her in on my recent bouts of sickness, when it strikes me that Justin has been silent for an eternity. He also hasn’t moved. And his bagel is sitting untouched in front of him. I push his plate towards him. ‘Eat your breakfast.’

He doesn’t move, nor does he acknowledge me.

‘Justin?’ He looks like he’s in a trance. ‘Justin, are you okay?’

He flips an envelope over and runs his eyes across it. So do I.

Justin Ward.

Private and Confidential

‘What is that?’ I ask.

He turns his eyes to mine. They are glazed and wary. I don’t like it. ‘Go upstairs.’

I frown. ‘Why?’

‘Don’t make me ask you again, Selena.’

I withdraw and try to assess him, but the only thing that I can determine is he’s not happy with me. Despite that, though, I know I need to get my arse upstairs before he asks me again. This is one of those times when I know not to argue. He’s starting to shake and though I have no idea what about, I’m certain it’s not for Cathy’s ears. I drop myself from the stool and excuse myself, leaving the kitchen and walking quietly up the stairs to the master suite, all of the time wondering what on earth is wrong with him. I don’t get long to ponder it. It strides into the room, still holding the paper and envelope.

He’s bubbling with anger. I can see it in the slight shaking of his hands and in the flash of black in his eyes. He pins me in place with an incensed stare. ‘What the f**k is this?’

My eyes fall naturally to the paper that he’s holding up, but I have no idea what it is. ‘What is it?’ I ask nervously.

He chucks the papers into the space between us. ‘You were going to kill our baby?’ He says it so calmly.

The ground falls away from under me, and I feel like I’m free-falling into a black hole of nothing. I can’t face him. My eyes are burning up with hot tears as they trace every square inch of the bedroom floor at his feet. My brain has failed me, but even if it did give some inspiration and load my mouth with the right words, I would be lying and he would know.

‘Answer me!’ he roars, and I jump, but I still can’t bring myself to face him. I’m completely ashamed of myself, and having spent the last few days with Justin and seeing how truly blissful he is, how caring and attentive he’s being, the guilt couldn’t get any worse. I thought about terminating this pregnancy. I thought about ridding my body of this baby. His baby. Our baby. I’m inexcusable. ‘Selena, for f**k sake!’ Before I can even think to try and form any words, he’s grasping the tops of my arms and bending to get his face in my line of sight. But I still evade his greens, not being able to bare facing what I know will be there. Contempt… disgust… disbelief. ‘Damn it, look at me.’

I shake my head faintly, like the pathetic coward I am. He deserves an explanation, but I don’t know where to begin. My mind has completely shut down, like I’m protecting myself from the inevitable that will be Justin flying off the handle. He’s pretty much there already.

My jaw is grasped harshly and pulled up so I’m forced to acknowledge him. My eyes are glassy with red-hot tears, but I can see with one hundred per cent clarity the hurt on his face. ‘I’m sorry.’ I sob. It’s the only thing I can think to say. It’s the only thing I should say. I am sorry for having such horrid thoughts.

His face crumbles before me, enflaming the guilt further. ‘You’ve broken my f**king heart, Selena.’ He drops me and stalks into the wardrobe, leaving me a pathetic form of shaking body parts. Sickness has moved aside and made way for crippling shame. I suddenly feel disgusted with myself, so I have a very good idea of what Justin thinks of me.

He appears again with a handful of clothes, but he doesn’t stuff them in a bag or go to the bathroom to get anything else. He just walks out, still only wearing his running shorts. My throat has closed off on me, so I can’t even scream for him to stay. I’m paralysed on the spot, nothing working, except my eyes, which are releasing a relentless flow of tears. Then I hear the front door slam, and I find myself in a heap on the floor, silently sobbing to myself.

‘Selena, dear?’ Cathy’s soft, warm voice is only just detectable through my heaving. ‘Selena, my goodness, whatever is the matter?’ It must be glaringly obvious that I’m not suffering with morning sickness, and she must have heard Justin bellowing at me.

I feel her squidgy body against me, and I instinctively turn into her apron coated body, wrapping my arms around her back.

‘Oh dear, oh no.’ She starts rocking me gently, shushing me and whispering quiet words in my ears. ‘Oh Selena, come on, dear. Tell me what’s happened.’

I try to form some words, but it just results in me crying even harder. My compulsion to spill my guilt, to share my remorse, is just emphasising how incredibly selfishly I was thinking.

‘Come on. Let me make you a cup of tea.’ Cathy soothes, hauling her round body up from the bedroom floor before tugging on my arm, encouraging me to stand. I just about manage it, and then I’m cradled under her arm and guided down to the kitchen.

She hands me a hanky from the front of her apron, then sets about making a pot of tea. I watch her in silence, except for the odd judder of breath that escapes as I try to gain control of my shaky body and erratic breathing. I’m trying my very hardest, but it’s inevitable for me to think about all of the other times I’ve sent him crazy mad, except this time he really looked unhinged. This time I’ve really sent him over the edge.

Cathy sets a pot of tea down on the island and pours two cups, putting a few sugars in mine, even though she didn’t ask and neither did I. ‘You need the energy.’ she says as she stirs, then picks it up and places it between both of my palms. ‘Drink up, dear. There’s nothing tea can’t cure.’ She takes her own, blows across the top, and a wave of steam streams through mid-air and disintegrates in front of me. I stare at it until it’s gone, and I’m left gazing blankly at nothing. ‘Now, tell me what’s got my boy in such a pickle and you in this state?’

‘I was thinking about having an abortion.’ I say to thin air. I don’t want to see the look of horror that will have undoubtedly jumped onto the face of Justin’s sweet, innocent, wholesome housekeeper.

Her silence and the mug of tea that I can see in my peripheral vision, hovering at her lips, only confirms my thoughts. She’s shocked, and having heard the words aloud, so am I. And embarrassed. ‘Oh,’ she says simply. What else can she say?

I know what I should be saying. I should be explaining myself and the reasons, but not only do I feel like I’ve let Justin down and trampled all over his happiness, I feel protective of him. I don’t want Cathy to judge him if I tell her how I ended up pregnant, which is ludicrous. It’s the only reason I considered a termination, and the fact that I didn’t think I was ready, but the last few days have proved me wrong. Justin has unearthed a deep feeling of hope, happiness, and love for this baby growing inside of me. A piece of me and a piece of him mixed together to form a life. Our baby. Now the thought of ridding it from my body is absolutely abhorrent. I’m disgusted with myself.

I turn towards Cathy. ‘I would never have seen it through. I soon realised I was being stupid. I was just so shocked. I don’t know how he’s found out.’ Now I’ve calmed slightly, I’m wondering how he does actually know.

That paper. The envelope.

‘Selena, he’s obviously shocked. Give him time to come round. You’re still pregnant and that’s all that matters. He’ll see soon enough.’

I smile, but Cathy’s words haven’t made me feel any better. She doesn’t know what happened the last time he walked out on me. ‘Thank you for the tea, Cathy.’ I say, getting down from the stool. ‘I’d better get ready for work.’

Her wrinkled brow furrows, and she looks at my mug. ‘But you’ve hardly touched it.’

‘Oh,’ I quickly scoop it up and take a few hot sips, probably burning the roof of my mouth in the process, but there’s a piece of paper lying on the floor of the master suite, and it’s screaming for me to read it. I give Cathy a quick peck in the cheek, and she rubs my arm affectionately before I escape the kitchen.

I run upstairs fast and pick the paper straight up, being immediately greeted with a bunch of pamphlets, stapled to the corner of a letter. The letter is a scan appointment. The pamphlets are a wealth of information on abortion. The information sinks in very fast, and as I lift my eyes to the top of the letter, I notice my name and address. No, not my address. It’s Matt’s address.

I gasp and screw the paper up, throwing it at the wall on an infuriated yell. I’m so f**king stupid. I’ve not changed my address with the surgery. I’ve not changed my address with anyone. All of my mail has been going to Matt’s and clearly the f**king bastard has been opening it. He must’ve been in his element to find this. What the hell is wrong with him, the nasty f**king lowlife? My damn emotions are all over the place. I’m sad, I’m hurt, I’m blood boiling mad.

At the risk of lashing out on the door or the wall or anything I can lay my hands on, I throw myself in the shower instead.

* * *

I’m still shaking with anger when I walk into the penthouse foyer only half an hour later. I’m already late, but my work, for the first time ever, is the least of my priorities. And it’s a good thing because I’m standing staring blankly at the keypad, with not the first idea of what numbers to punch in. I glance back at the door, contemplating nipping back in to ask Cathy, but I decide against it, instead bashing in the code of the fire exit door and pushing my way through. I need to burn off some of this fury before I’m in the close proximity of people. I might rip someone’s head off, and I want to save my wrath for Matt.

‘Good Morning, Mrs Ward.’ Casey’s friendly voice is the first thing I hear when I exit the stairwell, panting from exhaustion as oppose to panting with anger.

‘Casey,’ I puff, putting my heels back on.

He looks me up and down. God only knows what I must look like. I didn’t even bother to use a mirror, instead blasting my hair and firing pins in all over my head where I felt they needed to be. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks.

‘Fine,’

‘Congratulations,’ he says. I look at him in alarm. Justin wouldn’t share our good news with the new concierge. He doesn’t like him. ‘On getting married,’ Casey adds. ‘I didn’t know.’

I’m frowning. Would Justin have told him that? Probably. He was probably trampling at the time, stamping his ownership. ‘Thanks,’ I stalk past him and slip my shades on before I hit the sunshine, hoping the oversized things might conceal most of my harassed face. John’s here. He shrugs, and I shake my head. ‘I’m not coming with you, John.’ I fire my key fob at my Mini and start across the car park.

‘Come on, girl. Let’s not push it.’ His voice is a low rumble, even though he’s pleading with me.

‘John, I’m sorry, but I’m driving myself today.’ I insist in the firmest tone I can find. It’s hard. I just want to cry some more. He’s so mad with me, but he still sent John to take me to work. As usual, he just can’t help it. I stop and swing around to face the big friendly giant. He’s standing at the hood of his Range Rover, holding his big arms out to me pleadingly. ‘Is he okay?’ I ask.

‘No, he’s gone mother f**king crazy, girl. What’s going on?’

‘Nothing,’ I say quietly, feeling so thankful that John is unaware to why Justin has lost the plot. He’s probably too ashamed of me to admit it to anyone, and he has every right to be.

‘Nothing?’ He laughs, but then his frightening face turns deadly serious. ‘It’s nothing to do with that Danish mother f**ker?’

‘No,’ I shake my head, thinking Mikael might be something else for Justin to fly off the handle about.

‘Are you okay?’ His wraparounds are still firmly in place, but I know he’s looking at my stomach. He thinks something has happened to the baby.

I nod, my hand naturally sliding across my cornflower blue shift dress and onto my navel. ‘Fine, John.’

‘Selena, girl, let me take you to work so I can at least go back to The Manor and tell him I got you there safely.’ He gestures towards his shining heap of black metal.

It’s hard for me to refuse John. He’s thinking about Justin, and I know that he cares about me. Under any other circumstances, I would, but I have an ex to deal with, and I can’t wait to rip him to shreds. ‘I’m sorry, John.’ I jump in my car and dial Casey to open the gates. No code, no gate device. Anyone would think that he was trying to keep me prisoner. I leave a clearly exasperated John in the Car park of Lusso and drive myself to work.

* * *

The look I flash all of my work colleagues the second I walk into the office makes them cautiously put their heads back down to work. Mindless chit-chat and feigning happiness is not something I can be bothered to do today. I need to focus on getting through the day as quickly and as quietly as possible. Interacting with anyone is a risk I can’t take. I might explode, and then all of my fury will be wasted.

I’m left to work in peace, my only distraction being my racing imagination, which is flicking from what Justin will be doing now, to what I’m going to do to Matt. I’m surviving fine, until Patrick perches on the edge of my new desk. I see him before I hear him, which has absolutely never happened. The creak that I usually get in warning is absent, and it throws me a little. I grew rather fond of the familiar sound of my boss perching on my desk, even if it did make me hold my breath and pray for reinforced wood.

‘Flower, update me. We’ve not spoken for a few days. My fault, I know.’

I don’t need this. My brain is awash with everything, except work, and I’m dreading the Mikael question. I’m living on borrowed time here, I realise that, but I can’t broach this now. ‘There’s not a lot to report, really.’ I continue composing the email that I’ve been working on for the last hour. I’m two lines in, and it’s only a simple sample request to a manufacturer.

‘Oh, everything’s in order, then?’

‘Yes, everything.’ I sound short and terse, but I’m trying my best not to be.

‘Are you okay, flower?’ My boss’s concern is clear, when he should actually be telling me to buck up and answer him properly.

I stop typing and turn to face my cuddly bear of an employer. ‘I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine, but I’ve got a heap of things I want to get done before the day’s out.’ I mentally applaud myself for blagging my way through that whole little speech. I did sound fine and like I was keen to get on, something Patrick will never argue with.

‘Excellent!’ He laughs. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll be in my office.’ He lifts from the desk and for the first time in four years, it doesn’t creak, but I still wince anyway.

‘Selena, I’m sorry to bother you,’ Sal’s apprehensive voice almost makes me feel guilty.

‘What’s up, Sal?’ I look up at our plain-Jane, turned office siren, and force a smile, until I see the plaid skirt. It’s back, and I was so busy throwing cautionary looks at everyone when I arrived this morning, I hadn’t noticed. I also hadn’t noticed the lack of polished nails or scoop neck top. Or the face that looks like it’s just been dealt the most dreadful news. She’s been dumped.

‘Patrick has asked me to run through all of the invoices due for payment. Here’s a list.’ She hands me a printout of clients. ‘All of the highlighted sections are due within a week, and he’d like you all to gently remind your clients so we get the payments on time.’

I frown and cast my eyes over the spread sheet. ‘But they’re not due yet. I can’t remind them when they’ve not even forgotten.’ It’s embarrassing enough chasing overdue invoices.

She shrugs. ‘I’m just the messenger.’

‘He’s never asked us to do this before.’

‘I’m just the messenger!’ she snaps, and I recoil in my chair. Then she bursts into tears. I should be jumping up and soothing her, but I’m just sitting here, watching her wail all over my desk. She’s snorting and sniffling, attracting the attention of everyone, including Patrick, who has ventured from his office to see what the commotion is all about, but he retreats hastily when he spots Sal in tears. Tom and Victoria sit tapping their pens, neither one of them coming to aid me in my distress. And I am distressed. I don’t know what to do with her, but as no one else seems to be willing, it’s down to me to sort her out. I slide the spread sheet into my tray and stand, taking Sal’s elbow and leading her into the toilets, where I stuff her hands full of tissue and wait silently for her to pull herself together.

After a good five minutes, she finally speaks. ‘I hate men.’ Is all she says.

It makes me smile. I think every woman on the planet has said that line at some point in their life. ‘Things not too good between you and…’

‘Don’t say his name!’ she blurts. ‘I never want to hear it again.’

It’s a good job because I can’t remember it. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘No.’ she spits, rubbing away at her cheeks. There is no make-up transferring onto the tissue. She has well and truly returned to boring Sal. ‘Never!’ she adds on a filthy look.

I’m relieved. My brain wouldn’t absorb it, even if she did tell me. I’d be listening, but not engaging. ‘Okay,’ I rub her arm in a gesture to suggest that I understand when I’m actually more relieved.

‘He’s here, then he’s not. He calls, then he doesn’t. What does that mean?’ She looks at me expectantly, like I might know the answer.

‘You mean he’s messing you around?’ I’m engaging.

‘I’m on call when he wants, so yes. I sit around waiting for him to ring me, and when he does want to see me, it’s lovely, but all he wants to talk about is me. My friends. My job.’ She sniffles a bit more. ‘When will he want to have sex?’

I cough on a laugh. ‘You’re worried because he hasn’t tried to get you in bed?’ That’s a rarity. She should be pleased.

‘Yes!’ She collapses against the wall. ‘I don’t know how much more we can talk.’

‘It’s nice that he wants to get to know you, Sal. Too many men are after one thing.’ Is she sexually frustrated? Or is she sexually clueless? Has she ever even had sex? I can’t imagine it, and if I go by the deepening red of her cheeks, then I think I might have my answer. Sal’s a virgin? Fucking hell! How old is she, anyway?

I’m suddenly more than ready to engage, but Victoria’s head pops around the door, halting my intended interrogation tactics. ‘Selena, your phone is ringing off the hook.’ She can’t resist a quick inspection of herself in the mirror before she leaves.

‘Sal, I’d better get that.’ It might be Justin, and he’ll be beside himself. ‘Will you be okay?’

She nods, sniffles and blows her nose before running her teary eyes all over me. ‘Are you feeling better?’ she asks.

‘Yes,’ I frown, forgetting my recent absences from work. I’m not ready to share my news yet.

‘You don’t look it. What’s wrong, anyway?’

I search my brain for a feasible reason for my constant dashing to the toilet and bad moods. ‘Tummy bug.’ is the best that I come up with.

‘And married life? Good? Honeymoon?’

I stand for a few silent moments, wondering how this turned around on me. ‘All great.’ I lie. ‘Maybe we’ll catch a holiday soon. Justin’s busy.’ I lie again, but Sal is one of the few people in my life who hasn’t worked out my bad habit, so I’m confident that I’ve not been rumbled. I leave her before she can pry any further and rush back to my desk, hoping to find a mass of missed calls from Justin. I’m sorely disappointed. It’s Ruth Quinn. I haven’t spoken to her since I abandoned our meeting, and I’m not sure I want to, but it starts wailing again in my hand. I don’t need to call her back. She’s going to call me until I answer, and I can’t avoid her forever.

‘Hello, Ruth.’ I sound normal enough.

‘Selena, how are you?’ She sounds normal, too.

‘Good, thank you.’

‘I was waiting for you to call. Did you forget about me?’ She laughs.

Actually, I did. Her lesbian crush has made way for other more important things. ‘Not at all, Ruth. I was going to call you later.’ I’m lying through the skin of my teeth.

‘Oh, well I beat you to it, then. Can we meet tomorrow?’

I sink into my chair, my mind whizzing through a million excuses to put her off, but I know I have to face this head on. I can be professional. ‘Sure, how about one-ish?’

‘Perfect. I look forward to it. Bye!’ She hangs up, and I hang my head. I bet she is. I’ll be wearing trousers tomorrow, and I won’t be making too much of an effort either.

Tom lowers his fashion specs to the end of his nose. ‘Dumped?’ he asks. I don’t need to push for an elaboration on his one word question.

‘It’s complicated.’ I brush him off and start to mark up some drawings, but something catches my attention outside the office.

My brother.

He’s standing on the pavement looking into the office and after what seems like an age of us staring at each other, he pushes his way through the door. ‘Hi,’ He smiles.

My hand comes up in a little wave gesture. ‘Hi,’ I whisper. We’re in that awkward place again.

‘Lunch?’ he asks hopefully.

I smile and collect my bag, joining him at the front of the office. My simmering anger has cooled, but I’ll re-stoke it later. Right now, I want to fix things with Dan, get things back on track before he goes back to Australia. He’s been a complete arsehole, but I can’t hold grudges, not with my brother. ‘Tom, I’ll be back in an hour.’

‘Hmmm,’ he replies. I look back and see him staring dreamily at Dan. ‘Bye, Selena’s brother.’ he croons, waving a limp wrist and actually fluttering his lashes. I purse my lips and shake my head, especially when Dan’s eyes enlarge in alarm and he starts walking backwards.

‘Urm, yeah,’ He coughs and straightens his shoulders in an obvious attempt to make himself look more manly. ‘See ya,’ His voice has gone deeper, too.

I laugh. ‘Come on,’ I push Dan through the door. ‘You have an admirer.’

‘Great.’ he quips. ‘Not that I’m homophobic or anything. You know, whatever tickles your fancy.’

‘I think Tom wants to tickle your fancy.’

‘Selena!’ He looks at me in horror, but then breaks out in a grin. ‘He’s got taste, obviously.’

‘I don’t want to burst your bubble, but he’s like that with most men. You’re nothing special.’

We start walking side by side down Bruton Street, towards Starbucks. ‘Thanks,’ Dan laughs, nudging my shoulder.

I nudge him right back and smile up at him. We’re going to be okay.

* * *

Dan sets down the coffees and his sandwich, and I immediately tip three sachets of sugar into my cup, momentarily unaware that what I’m doing is completely out of the ordinary, until I look up and see Dan’s brow all knitted as he watches me stir it in. ‘Since when have you taken sugar in your coffee?’

I freeze mid-stir, frantically searching my brain for a viable excuse. We’ve not talked, but things are comfortable. Advising him that I’m pregnant will catapult us straight back to awkwardness, so I’m going to be a total shitbag and wait for him to go back to Australia, then I’ll get our mum to tell him. ‘I’m knackered. I need a sugar hit.’ It’s the best I come up with.

‘You look tired.’ He sits down, eyeing me suspiciously.

‘I am tired.’ I admit. No hair twiddling needed.

‘Why?’

‘Work stress.’ Half true, but now I’m fighting my hands to keep them on the table. ‘So, you’re okay?’

‘Kate told me to take a leap, but I’m sure you know that already.’ He un-wraps his sandwich and takes a bite.

Yes, I do, but there is little point confirming it. ‘You should never have gone there, and you really shouldn’t have gone there on my wedding day.’

‘Yeah, I was out of line. I’m sorry.’ He reaches over and places his hand over mine. ‘We’ve never had cross words.’

‘I know. It was horrible.’

‘It was my fault.’

‘It was,’ I grin, and he dips his finger in the froff of my coffee and flicks it at my nose. ‘Hey!’

‘Congratulations, anyway.’ He smiles.

‘What?’ I blurt.

‘I never congratulated you on your actual wedding day. I was too busy being an arsehole.’

‘Oh, thanks.’ The relief that takes hold makes me sag in my chair, but just as quickly, I’m stiff as a board. Matt knows, and he has been doing a fantastic job of keeping my parents informed and up-to-date on my love life. He’ll be like a pig in shit over this. That cooling fury has just boiled over into the realms of panic. I quickly disregard the possibility that he’s called my mum and dad already because if he had, then Dan would know, and he wouldn’t be sat opposite me happily chomping his way through a tuna melt. This is bad news. I need to get to Matt before he gets to my parents. Or I could just ring my parents and tell them myself. That would be the sensible thing to do, but I want to see them with Justin. I want to do this bit right, which is absurd, but after how they found out about Justin and the shock of a rushed wedding, I want to make this part special.

‘You okay?’ Dan’s worried tone pulls me from yet more mental meltdown.

‘Yeah, so when are you going back?’

‘I’ll get on-line when I get back to Harvey’s to see what’s Selenailable.’ He dabs his mouth with his napkin and proceeds to launch into a proper apology speech.

I spend the next half an hour listening, nodding, yes-ing and no-ing, but I’m a million miles away from the conversation, my head struggling to decide on what to do for the best. Why hasn’t Matt called them already?

‘You’ll get sacked.’

‘Huh?’ I glance down at my Rolex, noting its two fifteen. I’m already late, but I feel no sense of urgency to hurry back to the office. The only urgency I have is to resolve my little Matt issue once and for all. ‘Yeah, I’d better shoot.’

‘Nice watch.’ He nods at my wrist.

‘Wedding present,’ I stand and brush myself down. ‘Which way are you heading?’

‘Back to Harvey’s.’

‘Okay, will you call me? I mean, you won’t just leave, will you?’

His eyes warm and he stands before pulling me into him and giving me the biggest cuddle. ‘I wouldn’t go anywhere without saying goodbye to my little sister.’ He kisses my head. ‘Let’s not fall out again, okay?’

‘Okay. Keep it in your trousers then, and try to be civil to my husband if you ever have to share company with him again.’

‘I promise.’ He assures me. I’m a little surprised he doesn’t point out that Justin was discourteous, too, because he really was. ‘Take care.’

‘You, too.’ I leave Dan, but instead of going to the office, I call in sick again and go to get my car. I’m walking on thin ice, but this really cannot wait. Matt won’t be home, but he’ll be at his office, and I really don’t care where I verbally bash him.

Chapter 18

But he’s not at his office, and he hasn’t been for weeks. After driving across the city in mid-afternoon traffic, I pulled up to the glass building which houses the sales centre of the firm that he works for, only to be told by the receptionist that Matt lost his job a few weeks ago. I remember him mentioning it, he’d used it as an excuse for his shitty behaviour, but I never gave it another thought.

Despite his misfortune, though, I don’t feel pity or concern. Nothing is going to dampen down my resentment and contempt. I sit in my car and pull my phone from my bag, full of determination. I’ll track him down.

It rings once. ‘Selena,’

I was expecting a voice laced with smugness and deep satisfaction, so when I hear this one, which is broken and strained, I’m thrown completely. It takes me a few moments to piece a sentence together and when I do, it’s not at all what I had intended to say. ‘Are you okay?’

He laughs, but it’s weak. ‘Why don’t you ask your husband?’

The back of my head hits the headrest of my seat, and I stare up at the ceiling of my car. I should have predicted this. ‘How bad?’

‘Oh, just a couple of broken ribs and a black eye. Nothing major. Your husband knows how to do a job properly, I’ll give him that.’

‘Why did you do it?’

‘Because I want everything he has with you. Or I did. Kate took great pleasure in telling me you were marrying him, and then that letter fell on my doormat. I wondered why you would be seeking an abortion if you were married, so I guessed he didn’t know. I took a chance. Why are you having an abortion?’

‘I’m not.’

‘Then why…’

‘Because I was shocked.’ I shout defensively. I’m not explaining myself to him. Silence falls down the line, and I’m not in the least bit compelled to explain myself further. ‘I think this is where you give up, Matt.’

‘Well I won’t be setting myself up for another beating from your unhinged husband. Not even you are worth the pain I’m in right now.’

I laugh to myself and my stupidity for almost feeling sorry for him.

‘Oh,’ he continues, ‘and don’t worry about Elizabeth and Joseph. I’ve been given a little taste of what will happen if I share your news. Can I suggest that you get your address changed so I don’t receive any of your shit in future?’ He hangs up, and I stare down at my phone in disbelief. I didn’t blast him with half of the words I’ve been mentally preparing throughout the day. I didn’t get to spit my hatred at him, or even slap his face. I’d love to slap his face. I smirk to myself, my smile only broadening when a mental image of Justin pounding on Matt’s loser arse springs to mind. I’m not a violent person, but if Justin wants to take his anger out on someone, then Matt would be my person of choice every time. He deserves everything he gets, and there’s no doubt in my mind that I won’t be hearing from him again and neither will my parents. It’s one more thing ticked off my list of issues. Sarah has apologised, for what it’s worth, but she’s gone and that’s all that matters. Kate and Sam are together, and Kate and Dan are not. I’ve made friends with my brother, and Matt has been trampled. That one makes me smile again. But what I really need to be doing is finding my husband and making friends with him. I chuck my phone on the passenger seat and make my way back towards the city.

I feel like I’m on a cleansing mission. Our new life together will be free from troubles very soon, and it’s right now that I decide to tackle the final issue tomorrow. Mikael. I’ve still not heard from him, but there’s nothing he can say, anyway, nothing he can tell me, so I don’t know what the point of our meeting will be. He’s not back from Denmark, or if he is I’ve not heard from him, but I’ll call him. I’ll beat him to the punch. I’m full of determination to eradicate this final issue. I’m making it my mission objective. I’ll do anything.

As I’m driving over London Bridge, I glance up to my rear view mirror and spot a familiar car. Justin’s car. He’s dipping in and out of the traffic in his usual haphazard style, overtaking and generally causing traffic mayhem in his wake. I spend a few moments flicking my eyes between the road ahead and my rear view mirror, the potential of what I’m about to face slowly settling in the pit of my stomach. He’s been following me, which means he has followed me to Matt’s office, which means he is going to hit the f**king roof. I didn’t see Matt, but the intention was there, and I’m not going to try and convince myself that Justin wouldn’t know where Matt worked. Of course he knows where Matt worked. I’m fighting the clash of extreme worry and extreme rage. I’m worried for obvious reasons, but the rage is overshadowing that right now. Following me? This shouldn’t be a surprise. I need to stop being so astounded by what lengths this man goes to—the things that he does, the reactions that he has, the extreme reactions he draws from me.

I know it’s him, but that doesn’t stop me taking a right, and then a right, and then a right again, bringing me back to where I started, and as I knew it would be, the DBS is still tailing me a few cars behind. I’m leading him on a merry dance. I feel around on the seat for my phone and stab at the buttons.

‘Yes?’ he spits, short, curt and clipped. Not his usual baby or pleasure filled tone. I’m astounded.

‘Nice drive?’ I ask.

‘What?’

‘Are you having a nice drive?’ I repeat myself, this time the words pushed through clenched teeth.

‘Selena, what the f**k are you talking about? And when I send John to fetch you, get in is f**king car.’

I ignore that last part and glance back up to my rear view mirror, just to check I’m not imagining things. I’m not. ‘I’m talking about you following me.’

‘What?’ he yells impatiently. ‘Selena, I haven’t got time for f**king riddles.’

‘I’m not talking in riddles, Justin. Why the hell are you following me?’

‘I’m not following you, Selena.’

I glance up again. ‘So I suppose there are hundreds of Aston Martins driving around London, and one just happens to be following me.’

Silence falls down the phone line, then his heavy breathing starts. ‘You’re driving?’

‘Yes!’ I shriek. ‘I’m driving around in bloody circles, and you’re following me. You’d make a shit detective!’

‘My car’s following you?’

‘Yes!’ I actually hit my steering wheel in a temper. Does he think I’m stupid?

‘Selena, baby, I’m not driving my car. I’m at Lusso.’ He doesn’t sound impatient anymore. He sounds concerned, which only concerns me.

I take another look in my mirror and find the DBS is now only one car behind me, drifting in and out of my sight. ‘But it’s your car.’ I say quietly.

‘Fuck!’ he roars, and I instinctively pull the phone away from my ear. ‘John!’

‘Justin? What’s going on?’ My stomach is suddenly a knot of panic at his reaction.

‘My car’s been stolen.’

‘Stolen? How can you steal an Aston Martin?’ Surely it would be impossible.

‘Where are you?’ he asks.

Frantically looking around, I search for something familiar. ‘I’m on the embankment, driving towards the city.’

‘John! The embankment. City bound. Call her in two.’ I hear car doors closing. ‘Baby, listen to me. Just keep driving, okay?’

‘Okay.’ I agree, my earlier anger giving way to pure fear.

‘I’ve got to put the phone down now.’

‘I don’t want you to.’ I murmur. ‘Stay on the phone, please.’

‘Selena, I’ve got to put the phone down. John’s going to call you as soon as I hang up. Put it on loudspeaker and place it in your lap so you can concentrate. Understand?’

He’s trying to stay calm, but he’s failing to conceal his distress. It’s thick in his husky voice, and I’m frightened by it.

‘Selena, baby. Tell me you understand!’

‘I understand.’ I whisper, and then the distinctive roar of a motorbike pours down the line. One of Justin’s bikes. The phone goes dead.

My heart has gone berserk and is punching its way through my chest, my hand is visibly shaking on the wheel and my eyes are glazing over with panic fuelled tears. When my phone starts ringing, I fumble with the keypad until I manage to connect the call.

‘John?’

‘Hey, girl. Are you on hands free?’

‘No, wait.’ I quickly place the call on loudspeaker before dropping my phone into my lap and replacing my hand on the wheel, gripping harder to try and stop the shakes. ‘I’m done. I’ve done it.’

‘S���all good, girl.’ He sounds so calm. ‘Just take a quick peek and tell me how far back Justin’s car is.’

I do as I’m told. ‘It’s only one car behind.’

He hums a little. ‘I want you to drive as slowly as possible, without looking suspicious. Just below the limit, you got it?’

I instantly ease off the accelerator a little. ‘Okay.’

‘Good girl. Now, tell me exactly where you are.’

I glance to my left. ‘I’m approaching Millennium Bridge.’

‘That’s good.’ he muses. ‘Concentrate on the road now.’

‘Okay. Why are you so calm?’ I ask. I’m not complaining because it’s rubbing off on me. An air of serenity is traveling down the line and calming me, which is crazy, considering the source of it—a giant, mean looking, wraparound wearing black man, who oozes terror.

‘One crazy mother f**ker is enough, don’t you think?’

I manage a small smile through my growing fear. ‘Yes,’ I agree.

‘Now, tell me how you’ve been today.’ He asks it like we’re having a perfectly normal conversation.

‘Fine. I’ve been fine.’ Of course, I’m not being truthful, but what sort of question is that when I’m being chased down in a car? What next? An axe wielding madman? Jesus, since I’ve met this man I’ve been through the wringer, but this is going into the realms of a Hollywood blockbuster. Who the hell is following me?

‘He’ll be an extraordinary daddy, Selena.’

John’s softly spoken words that seep from the phone and seem to linger in the closed air around me, immediately pull me back. ‘I know he will.’ I can’t see John, but if I could, I know I would see that illusive gold tooth.

‘So you two are going to stop f**king about and sort this shit out?’ He sounds like a father, and my fondness grows for the burly beast of a man.

‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘Oh!’ I’m suddenly thrust forward in my seat and my seatbelt locks, pulling straight across my collarbone and burning the skin beneath my dress.

‘Selena?’ John’s voice is distant and muffled, and I can’t work out why. ‘Selena, girl!’

‘John?’ I feel around on my lap, but there’s nothing. ‘John!’

Bang!

I’m jolted forward again, my arms instinctively locking on the wheel and sending a sharp flash of pain straight up to my shoulders. ‘Shit!’ I look in the rear view mirror and freeze when I see the DBS now directly behind me, but it’s quite a way back. ‘John?’ I yell. ‘John, can you hear me?’ My eyes are moving constantly from the road ahead to the mirror, back and forth, and each time they’re back on the mirror, Justin’s car is closer. I attempt to step on the accelerator, but all body functions are failing me, except my eyes which are watching in horror as the DBS gains on me.

Bang!

‘No!’ I cry, as I swerve and struggle to regain control on my Mini. I don’t stand a chance. My brain is being inundated by a million different orders, but I can’t gather any cognitive thought to establish my best move. I straighten up my car to be immediately hit again. Now I’m crying. My emotions are taking hold, telling me that I should be crying, that I should be frightened. And I am. I’m terrified.

Crash!

This time I lose complete control. I scream as the wheel starts spinning of its own accord, and I’m suddenly travelling sideways down the carriage way. Then I’m hit again and facing forward once more. I frantically grapple with the steering wheel, but it’s got a mind of its own and in a total panic, I yank at the handbrake. I’m not sure what happens next, but I’m thrown forward and back again, and I’m dizzy, blurred images whirling past the windows. Buildings, people and cars are all spinning around me until eventually a loud crash rings through my ears, my body jolts violently and my eyes close. I don’t know where I am. But I’m still. I’m not moving anymore.

I flex my neck on a groan and open my eyes to look out of the window. The traffic has stopped. All of it. People are getting out of their cars and wandering over to me. I shuffle my legs and move my arms, quickly noting that I have feeling in all of them, before I unclip my belt and let myself out of my car. People are walking towards me, but I’m walking away. I’m walking towards the DBS, which is sitting a few yards away, the engine still purring. I should be running in the other direction, but I’m not. I’m running towards it. The desperate need to know who would do this has suddenly flattened my fear. Date rape, threats, and now this? What planet if this person on? The accumulation of incidents is now hitting me hard.

I’m only a few yards away when the engine starts revving, like some sort of eerie f**ked up threat. It doesn’t stop me. What does, though, is the sound of a high powered machine getting louder and louder. I halt and stand rooted to the spot as I watch the DBS screech off, and then John’s Range Rover go sailing past in pursuit. This isn’t happening to me. I want to pinch myself, slap myself across the face, or, at the very least, wake up. I slowly turn when it sounds like one of Justin’s superbikes is speeding around in my head. He skids to a stop and throws his bike down before sprinting towards me, no leathers, no helmet, just some faded jeans and a plain black t-shirt protecting his body—the clothes that he yanked from the wardrobe before he walked out on me. I can’t move. All I can do is wait where I am for him to reach me, and he soon does, his hands starting to work fast strokes all over my stunned face as I stare blankly into his green eyes, which are drowned in pure terror.

‘Selena? Jesus, baby.’ I’m pulled into his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other wrapped around my waist to hold me tight. I want to hold him back, I need to hold him back, but nothing is happening when I tell it to happen. I hear Justin’s phone ringing and he releases my head to fish around in his pocket. ‘John?’

Being buried under Justin’s chin, I can hear the low rumble of John’s pissed off voice, and I distinctly hear him asking why the f**k he has to own such a stupidly fast mother f**king car.

‘Where are you?’ Justin asks, kissing my head between words.

This time I can’t hear him. All I can hear are sirens—coming from every direction are sirens. I pull out of Justin’s chest and find a mass of police cars and two ambulances. Just for me? But then I notice a crumple heap of a car, and it’s not mine. Neither is the one wrapped around a lamppost nearby. I search through the chaos of people and abandoned cars and spot my Mini crunched up against some railings that are separating the road from the pavement. I shudder.

‘John, don’t stop until you’ve found out who’s in my f**king car.’ Justin hangs up and stuffs his phone back in his pocket. He pulls at my chin. ‘Look at me, baby.’

I gaze up at him. I’m not sure what to say. ‘Where’s your helmet?’

He takes a deep breath and claps my cheeks in his palms. ‘Fucking hell.’ He kisses me hard on the lips. ‘Why do you refuse to play ball?’ He kisses my nose, my lips, my eyes, my cheeks. ‘I sent John to get you, Selena. Why didn’t you let him take you to work?’

‘Because I wanted to shred Matt.’ I admit. ‘But you beat me to it.’

‘I was so angry, Selena.’

‘I would never have seen it through. I wouldn’t have killed our baby.’ I know I need to say this, at the very least.

‘Shhh.’ He continues placing his lips all over my face and my arms finally lift to hold him tightly. I never want to let go.

‘Excuse me, sir.’ The strange voice pulls both of our attention to the side where a policeman is standing. ‘Is the young lady okay?’

Justin looks back at me and starts doing an all over visual assessment. ‘I don’t know. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ I smile awkwardly. ‘What about the other drivers?’ I look across to the two wrecked cars.

‘Just a few cuts and bruises.’ The copper says. ‘You were all very lucky. Shall we get you checked over before we run through some questions?’ He smiles kindly and signals over to an ambulance.

I feel all dramatic and a bit of a bother. ‘I feel fine, honestly.’

Justin growls and tosses me a fierce scowl. ‘I’m going to take that fine in my palm and slap you all over the arse with it.’

‘I am fine.’ My car’s not, though. It looks terrible. Mum’s insistence that we should never leave each other on a cross word has never hit so hard. I appreciate it fully, and I don’t ever plan on leaving Justin on bad terms again. Never.

Justin makes a meal of exhaling and flopping his head back. ‘Selena, don’t defy me on this, please. I have no problem with pinning you down in the ambulance so they can confirm you’re okay.’ His head drops back down. ‘Are you going the easy way, or the hard way?’

‘I’ll go.’ I agree quietly. I’ll do anything he says. I free myself from his chest. ‘My bag,’

‘I’ll get it.’ He sprints away.

‘My phone’s on the floor!’ I call after him, but he just waves his arm over his head to acknowledge that he heard. He’s back in seconds, and the policeman leads us to the ambulance, pushing his way through the growing crowds of pedestrians.

A paramedic on the back puts his hand out to me, but I don’t get the chance to grasp it. I’m lifted and placed in the white van. ‘Thank you,’ I smile down at Justin and watch as the copper gets a pad and pen from his pocket.

‘Sir, while she’s being taken care of, do you mind answering a few questions?’

‘Yes, I do. You’ll have to wait.’

‘Sir, I’d like to ask you a few questions.’ The policeman isn’t asking nicely this time.

Justin turns his full body into him, the edge of threat clear in his stance. He’s trampling a copper. ‘My wife and child are in the back of that ambulance and the only way you’re going to stop me from seeing to them is if I’m dead.’ He steps back and holds his hands out to the side. ‘So f**king shoot me.’

The policeman looks up at me, and I smile apologetically. The last thing I need is Justin being arrested. I don’t know whether it’s put down to emotions running high, but the copper nods and gestures for Justin to join me. My trampling Lord’s glower is still fixed to his face as he turns back towards me, but it soon falls away. His face is level with my stomach, but his eyes are currently dropped and looking at my bare legs.

Reaching forward, he runs his finger up the inside of my calf. ‘Baby, you’re cut.’

I glance down. ‘Where?’ I can’t feel anything. I pull at my dress, hitching it higher, but there is no sign of any cut. Higher it goes; still more blood but no cut. I look at Justin in confusion, but he’s frozen as he watches me searching for the source of the blood. His eyes lift to mine. They are wide and uneasy. It doesn’t sit well. I start shaking my head as he moves forward, taking my dress up as far as it can go.

There is no cut.

The blood is coming from my knickers.

‘No!’ I cry out, realisation crashing into me like a tornado.

‘Oh Jesus,’ He yanks the hem of my dress back down and jumps up to the ambulance, engulfing me in his arms. ‘Fucking hell, no.’

‘Sir?’

‘Hospital. NOW!’

I’m placed on gurney gently and hear the slamming of metal doors, making me jump. I turn into his chest, clutching at his t-shirt and hiding my face from him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Shut up, Selena.’ He grabs the back of my hair and pulls me out. His eyes are a cloud of green. ‘Please, just shut up.’ His thumb drags under my eye, collecting some tears. ‘I love you.’

This is my punishment. This is my penance for having such toxic thoughts. I deserve it, but Justin doesn’t. He deserves the happiness I know this baby would’ve given him. It’s an extension of me, and I know that he can’t get enough me. I’ve destroyed his dream. I should have seen things clearer sooner. I should have changed my address at the surgery. I should have let John take me to work. I shouldn’t have gone to Matt’s office. There are so many things I have and haven’t done that could have changed how things are playing out.

My shame is eating away at me and it will do for the rest of my life. It hasn’t happened how I had stupidly first thought, but the end result is the same. I’ve killed our baby.

Chapter 19

The silence surrounding us is painful. The whole way in the ambulance, I sobbed and Justin constantly told me how much he loves me. I can’t help but think it’s simply because he doesn’t know what else to say. There’s no comfort or reassurance coming from those three words. He hasn’t said it doesn’t matter because I know it does. He hasn’t said it’s not my fault because I know it is. He hasn’t said that we will be fine either, and I don’t know if we will. Just when I was beginning to see light at the end of the never-ending tunnel of issues, we’re hit with the worst kind of devastation—a damage that can’t be fixed. Our love for each other will be tested to the absolute limit now, but the dwelling ache deep inside of me is not filling me with hope. I’m not sure if we can survive this. He’ll resent me forever.

He carries me from the ambulance, rejecting the wheelchair that’s brought out by a nurse. He silently follows the doctor down the busy corridor, all of the time looking straight ahead and flipping one word answers to anyone who asks him questions. I can’t feel anything except Justin’s thundering heartbeat under my hand, which is resting on his chest. All of my nerve endings seem to have died. I can’t sense a thing.

After what seems like an eternity of gently bobbing up and down in Justin’s arms, I’m lowered onto a huge hospital bed in a private room. He’s gentle and all of his actions are tender and loving as he strokes my hair, props my head up slightly and covers my legs with the thin sheet that’s lying at the foot of the bed. But there are still no comforting or reassuring words.

We’re closed in from every direction by machines and medical equipment. A nurse stays, but the ambulance men leave after giving a brief rundown on me, what has happened and the observations they have already performed on the way to the hospital. The nurse takes notes, sticks things in my ear and holds thing to my chest. She asks questions, and I answers quietly, but the whole time, I keep my eyes on Justin, who’s sitting in a chair with his face in his palms.

The nurse pulls my reluctant eyes away from my grieving husband when she hands me a gown. She smiles. It’s a sympathetic smile. Then she leaves the room. I just hold it for a while, until so much time has passed, I think it could be next week, or even next year. I want it to be next year. Will this crippling pain and guilt be gone by next year?

I finally slide myself to the side of the bed, my back to Justin, and reach around to unzip my dress. In the quiet, I hear him stand, like my movements have suddenly snapped him from his nightmare and his obligatory duties have kicked in.

He comes and stands in front of me, but my stinging eyes remain on the floor. ‘Let me.’ he says softly, taking over the removal of my dress.

‘It’s okay. I can manage.’ I counter softy. I don’t want him to do anything that he doesn’t want to.

‘You probably can,’ He pulls my dress up over my head, ‘but it’s my job and I’d like to keep it.’

My chin starts to tremble as I fight to restrain the persistent tears, not wanting to enflame any guilt he might be feeling himself. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper, still keeping my welling eyes from his line of sight.

It’s an impossible task, especially when he bends and pushes his face up into my neck, forcing my face up to his. ‘Don’t thank me for looking after you, Selena. It’s what I’ve been put on this earth to do. It’s what keeps me here. Don’t ever thank me for that.’

‘I’ve ruined everything. I’ve lost your dream.’

He pushes me down onto the bed and kneels in front of me. ‘My dream is you, Selena. Day and night, just you.’ My vision is hazy and blurred, but I can clearly see the tears trickling from his green eyes. ‘I can manage without anything, but never you. Not ever. Don’t look like this, please. Don’t look like you think it’s the end. It’s never the end for us. Nothing will break us, Selena. Do you understand me?’

I nod through my quiet weeping, unable to form words or even say them if I could.

He brushes the back of his hand roughly across his cheeks. ‘We let these people tell us you’re going to be okay, and then we go home to be together.’

I nod again.

‘Tell me you love me.’

A loud sob spills from my mouth and my arms find his shoulders and pull him into me. ‘I need you.’

‘I need you, too.’ he whispers. His hands all over my back, despite being cool and a little shaky, give me all of the comfort I need. We will be okay. Heartbroken, but okay. ‘Let me get you into this gown.’

I’m pulled up from the bed, but he remains kneeling, and starts peeling my blood stained underwear away from my body. I can’t look. I clench my eyes shut and feel instead of see my knickers being slowly drawn down my thighs. The familiar feel on his fingertip tapping my ankle prompts me to step out, but all of the time, I keep my eyes clenched shut. For the briefest of moments, I know he has moved from in front of me, and then I hear a tap running before he’s back and gently sweeping a wet cloth up the inside on my thigh. My heart constricts painfully in my chest, and I’m gulping back tears repeatedly.

‘Arms,’ Justin’s soft instruction encourages me to open my eyes. I find him holding the gown in front of me. My arms thread through, and I’m turned so he can fasten it. ‘Up you get.’ he orders. I shift myself back into position, just as there’s a knock on the door. Justin calls an okay.

The same nurse has returned, but this time she has a white coated doctor with her. He shuts the door softly and nods at Justin, who is suddenly more alert, and I know why.

The doctor has a fiddle with the machine at the side of me, and then perches on the edge of the bed. ‘How are you feeling, Selena?’ he asks.

‘Fine.’ The one word that Justin has threatened to spank my arse with just slips right out. He sighs but doesn’t say anything. ‘I’m okay, thank you.’

‘Okay, no aches or pains, cuts or bruises?’

‘No, nothing.’

He smiles mildly and folds back the sheet that’s covering my stomach. ‘Let’s see what’s going on. Would you like to pull the gown up so I can feel you tummy?’

Even now, when we are in the darkest most desperate place, I can feel Justin’s tenseness at the prospect of another man laying his hands on me. I glance over to him and give pleading eyes, but he just shakes his head. ‘I might step outside.’ he says quietly, stepping back towards the door.

‘Don’t you dare!’ I cry. ‘Don’t you dare leave me.’ I know he’s struggling, and I know the idea of another man touching me is unbearable for him, even if it is over-the-top and only part of his unreasonable possessiveness, but he can overcome that now. He has to overcome that now.

The Doctor looks between us, a little baffled, and waits for Justin to take the initiative and join me at the bed. What will I do if he walks out? I don’t think I could bear it, but then he inhales what seems to be a long, controlled gathering of strength and comes to sit next to me. My hand is picked up and encased in both of his before he brings the bundle to his chest and drops his head to it. He can’t watch.

I’m flanked on both sides, one man pushing my gown up and feeling around on my stomach, the other breathing deeply and squeezing my hand. I just rest my head back and stare up at the ceiling, wishing this could be over so Justin can take me home and we can start painfully processing what has happened. Who was in the DBS? This is sheading a whole new light on my blacking out episode in the bar. Surely Mikael isn’t so wrapped up in revenge that he would go to these lengths.

tyle: initial;t!16"�