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When I get back to the villa, thirty seconds after the girls, it’s full of sunlight and laughter. I’d love to go and shut myself away in the bedroom, curl up in a ball, and feel sorry for myself. But I can’t. The villa is chock-a-block with our family, here for a good time. They don’t need my drama. I asked, after all.
And then I realise the total gets bigger. Or worse. It must... I only asked about how many women he’d trapped. How many marks. I didn’t mention casual hookups. Oh crap! My stomach turns over, sloshing the contents in violent waves.
Okay, Eva. You have one minute. One minute to feel as sad as you like, and then you stand up, brush yourself off, and go out there and smile like a woman on her honeymoon.
So, I walk in slow, long strides to the bathroom. Carefully lock the door. And sink down to the floor. And I get it. It’s not just jealousy. This feeling is... inadequacy. And I hate it.
I’m jealous of every touch that wasn’t mine. Every kiss that didn’t find my lips. And I’m scared. I’m scared that he’s had so many women. So many bodies. Experienced so much. And I’m just me. Fat and pregnant. Painfully inexperienced, with all of three men I ever slept with, including Will. I’m scared I’m not enough to keep him. To keep him interested.
I’ll only get fatter. My body will be permanently altered after. I’ll be up to my eyes in vomit and nappies in a few months, looking like death warmed up, with purple circles around my sleep-deprived eyes. And he’ll be...out there...being him. Just as beautiful as he is now. And all those women...
When the tears in my eyes threaten a storm of self-pity, I know my time is up. I rise to my feet, wash my face, and plaster on a smile. Time to Adams up, soldier.
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Will is waiting in the bedroom. He whips around to face me when the bathroom door clicks closed.
“You back already?” I greet him. And I walk straight past him, and head for the beach and the party that sounds like it’s in full swing.
Will grabs hold of my arm as I’m about to make the door. “Will you just talk to me, please?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Eva...” His hand goes to his hair, his fist closing around a chunk and pulling so hard I can see the roots straining. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I shouldn’t have asked.” I smile brighter, yank my arm free, and march right into the party with a ridiculous grin on my face. This is just like work. Smile, energy, laugh and be happy. Or at least look it. You got this.
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As soon as I’ve tucked the girls up in bed later that night, and our guests have dispersed, I turn around and walk out onto the sand, my sandals sinking a little. I stop and kick them off, leaving them where they fall. I need some space. Just for a few minutes. No one will even notice I’m gone. I direct my feet along the shore.
“Oh!” I gasp when Will steps out in front of me, and I bump into his chest. I take a couple of steps back.
“We need to talk.”
“We really don’t. I know more than enough.”
“You’ll have to talk to me eventually...”
“Don’t count on it.” His eyebrow rises. And my head tilts, accepting his challenge. If he thinks it’s that easy to make me comply, he’s dead fucking wrong.
“Please?”
“No.”
“Eva...”
“No! I need some space, Will. Please, just leave me alone.”
“For Christ’s sake, Eva! It was just sex!” he hisses. “Just sex. It didn’t—”
“You say it didn’t mean anything, and you’ll regret it,” I snarl.
“You’re the one who was fucking married! Married, Eva! So, what if I fucked a thousand women? I didn’t marry any of them!” My heart stutters, and my breath has turned to short little huhs.
Ouch.
“You’ve probably had way more sex than me, just with the same person. Your ex-husband. I’d rather be in your line than mine. The only one of many, rather than the second of two.”
I’m starting to get used to that crushed feeling, so it really shouldn’t hurt this much to watch him stalk away. But it does. I gasp for a full breath as Will stalks back towards the villa.
“Wow. That’s what your daddy thinks, huh?” I tell my bump, my hand circling over my top. “Well, now we know, I guess.” And I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I shouldn’t be surprised sex means that little to him. I mean, look at his job. So why does it hurt so much?
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I sit on the damp sand and pull up my knees, crossing my forearms over the top, with my chin on my arm. I keep my attention on the waves, crashing and lapping just a few inches from my feet.
My eyes are stinging and heavy with exhaustion, but I don’t want to sleep in the same bed as Will, and I don’t know which rooms are occupied. I don’t fancy finding out much either. I’m bound to walk in on something I’d rather not see, so I negotiate myself to standing and make my way to the road. I’ll check if there’s another room available anywhere. I’ll grab my phone before I go.
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“Hello.” The receptionist greets me brightly.
“Hi. Can you tell me if there are any other rooms or villas available, please?”
“Err...” Her dark eyes scan a computer screen, and she taps something. “Is there a problem with your room, ma’am?”
“No. No problem with the room.” She looks up at me; the question is in her eyes, but she doesn’t ask it.
“Okay... I only have an executive villa available for two nights.”
“Great. Thank you.”
“Can I take your name?”
“Eva Adams.”
“And you’re already a guest here, Ms Adams?”
“Yes.”
“No problem. I’ll link the files. Do you have luggage?”
“No, I’ll pay for it myself. Thank you. And no luggage.” I slide my card out of my phone case and place it on the counter. She takes it, pressing her lips together. She’s so desperate to ask. Or for me to tell her. It’s almost painful.
“I’ll have Jeffrey take you down on the cart. It’s a long walk.”
“Thanks.”
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When Jeffrey leaves me at my new accommodation, right in the bottom corner of the resort, I’m exhausted. Physically and mentally. It took too much energy to pretend today. And I don’t think I have the capacity for any further pain. I just want to be happy. I strip off and fall into bed, more than ready to sleep, but my brain won’t slow down. I can’t quite reach that pause button. So, I do what I always do. I get up again and reach for my phone. I need to do some work.
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My email inbox is bursting at the seams! Hell, I’m regretting more and more of my decisions lately. But there’s nothing for it but to dive on in. So, I start at the bottom and work my way up.
I forward almost everything to someone else to deal with, since it needs attention sooner rather than later, and I’m whizzing through the list at lightning speed. Until I come to an email from an anonymous sender. It has a link. I’m not stupid enough to click a link in an email from someone I don’t know, but when I scroll down, there’s a picture of Will and the blonde. The caption underneath it reads:
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Wouldn’t you like to know what really happened?
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I’m frozen, staring at Will on the screen, until I hit delete.
***
I don’t know how many times my depraved arse dragged that file out of the junk bin and zoomed in, but I think I’m finished throwing up. And I know I’ll never get the image out of my head. Will and the blonde. The look on her face. The look on his.
I know it’s just sex to him. That he thought I was sleeping with Gary when he did this, but...I rub at the ache in my chest, wishing it away, and it only intensifies.
Another email comes in from the same sender. I click it fast before I can delete it.
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Now you know what kind of man Hunter really is.
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Does it matter? my brain whispers. We weren’t together then. He thought I was sleeping with Gary. Because someone made him think that. How? Is that what this is?
I enlarge it again and look for the details. Something that proves this isn’t him. But every detail is there. Right under my nose, in front of me on the screen. Things that would be nearly impossible to fake, unless you’d seen him naked. The smattering of freckles on his left shoulder blade. The dimples at the base of his spine. His clothes. The room, even down to the sheets on the bed. There’s no evidence that it’s photoshopped. Everything looks perfectly normal. Exactly as it should. Or shouldn’t.
Even the bed that he fucked her in. And if she is pregnant, there’s every chance it could be Will’s.
Davey lied to me. Will lied to me. And I wanted to believe it. Even after seeing them together with my own eyes.
Maybe Will lied to Davey too, or maybe this was all Davey’s idea? His idea of protecting me? Maybe he forced Will to leave her and marry me. Maybe he already knew, somehow, that I was pregnant. Or maybe he just thought I couldn’t live without him. Who knows why? Why anyone does what they do?
I don’t know. I don’t know! I have no idea what’s true anymore. Only that I should never have married that man.
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A WhatsApp message makes my phone scuttle across the table. I tap on the unknown number. It’s a scanned picture, an ultrasound captioned:
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He knows it’s his. He wanted her to have an abortion.
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And my empty stomach heaves. My hands are shaking as another message lights up the screen.
You can do better.
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My heart splits in two as I realise, with earth-shattering clarity, that I don’t want to do better. I love him. That man. The man who made me feel like this. The man that betrayed me. And I also know I should stop. And how impossible that will be.
I really need to leave. I need to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do now. All over again. I snatch up the phone and message my mum. I need Summer to stay here this week. In the meantime. She’s safe with my mum and Davey. She’s better off with them right now anyway. I feel like I might crumble at any second.
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I walk out of the villa, slamming the door behind me, and set off for reception, where I’ll collect my passport and a taxi. But I don’t get two steps.
“Just hold on there, Blue.”
“Why did you lie to me?” I demand. Davey’s eyes search mine for a few moments.
“Come back inside. Please.” I glare at him for a full ten seconds before I walk past him, my arms folded over my middle, and stop two steps over the threshold. That’s inside.
“I need you to listen. And I need you to trust me. And I really need you to agree with me, just this once. I know you’re not going to like it any more than I do, but it’s the only way I can see out of this particular shit storm. Please.”