The rest of the day goes by in a daze and at five o’clock, I need to sit down alone with my thoughts and a sobering gallon of coffee. Orson obviously has problems with accepting his own mum, so naturally Henry had to go back there immediately. I understand he wants to break their reuniting gently rather than come right out and tell him. I do. But he could have at least told me. The woman he slept with the very next day. This looks just like a Gabe rerun, and I’m not having it.
And above all, I’m not having the You broke my heart just as it was mending conversation with Henry. There are no misunderstandings of any sort and no explanatory conversation is going to lead anywhere. He was inside me practically all night after weeks of playing the chasing game with me. And yet all that time, he was on the road to getting back with his wife. Even if for the sole sake of Orson he could have at least admitted it, rather than sleep with me. Simply hinting how important family is, is not an admission of getting back together with your wife.
How could I have been so idiotic to think that I could come out of an extremely painful relationship and swan right into a new one, with little more than a few sleepless, sobby nights?
It just doesn’t work like that in real life. Mr Darcy is never silently waiting in the wings for a girl to sort herself out and pop up when she’s ready. Relationships always happen at the most inconvenient times. And this is an inconvenient time. Not to speak of the sheer effort to start all over again, investing yourself heart and soul, almost blindly, into something new. So better to cut my losses and once again concentrate on my career and let Henry get back with his ex-wife.
And once again, it’s my fault. I’ve allowed yet another man to completely enchant me. I believed in all his words. I believed we had had something special. Well, it had been special only for me, because here we are again – the needy Faith Hudson is once again dumped by a bloke.
Only this time there will be no more crying, or drinking, or wallowing. He is a closed parenthesis of my life. As much as it hurts, I am going to have to move on. For my own sanity. I cannot and will not go back to the depths of fear and depression all over again. This time I’ve learnt my lesson.
About an hour later, just as I’m coming into my flat, my mobile rings. Of course it’s Henry, wondering why I was so cold with him.
I watch as my phone finally falls silent, only to restart. The last thing I want to do is answer him and bawl my eyes out. Not happening. I’ve cried enough in the past. And yet, despite my three years with Gabe and our two break-ups, this one hurts even more. Probably because I’d thought I’d become too clever to ever fall for another bloke again. Well, the joke’s on me.
My phone beeps. A message from Henry:
Are you all right? You seemed rather cold this morning.
I could just ignore it, but knowing him, he’d actually come all the way here just to see if I’m okay and I just can’t risk that right now. So I type in:
I’m okay. See you tomorrow at work.
Assuming I’m going back to work there. It seems to be my destiny. What was my home, the beach house, is now a place I’d avoid like the plague if I could. My phone beeps again:
I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?
I almost laugh at that one. Wrong. No. His lovemaking was absolutely perfect and much, much more. It was hot and tender, respectful, yet naughty. It felt like an open door leading to a real relationship, and not a one-night thing. Little did he know I’d be on to him. But after Gabe, I’m not yet ready for full-on confrontation, and I don’t think I ever will be. I type in one last message:
No, it’s all good.
Maybe some other day I’ll be able to look him in the eye and read him the riot act. But tonight, all I want is to be left alone and forget about everything. Concentrate on a future without Henry, or any other man.
*
The next morning, while I’m still alone at the beach house and trying to pull myself together, the doorbell rings. Irrationally hoping it’s Henry and yet dreading it, I decide I’d settle for my splashback deliverers (who are already two days late). I fling the door open, only to find Travis, the estate agent. Not a great start to the day.
‘Hiya,’ he says.
‘Oh. Hello. Henry’s not here.’
‘Awh, damn. I was hoping to catch him here.’ He leans in with an apologetic grin. ‘His missus and I don’t really see eye to eye.’
Ah. So he knows Linda.
‘Hey, can I bum a cup of coffee off you?’
Can he instead go to hell and never darken my door? ‘Uhm…’
‘You’re a lifesaver,’ he says and gives me a thousand-watt smile as he saunters past me. But I am in no mood for pleasantries of any sort, neither today nor ever. As a matter of fact, I’m on steam mode.
He follows me into the makeshift kitchen where I put the kettle on and he pulls out his mobile. ‘Let’s see if I can catch him on his cell,’ he says.
He waits a few moments, but nothing happens. ‘Oh, man. It’s still off. I really needed to talk to him.’
‘I don’t know what to suggest,’ I say. ‘He should be coming in. He’s got a lot of work to do and we’re already behind schedule.’ Which isn’t true, of course, but I need to mask my sense of loss behind a semblance of purpose.
‘Listen,’ he says. ‘I’m really sorry we upset you about the sale and all. I’m just doing my job.’
‘So am I,’ I counter. ‘And we won’t be much longer. You’ll be able to sell it and get your commission and move on to the next victim.’
‘Oh, come on, Faith. You know it’s nothing personal against you, at least not on my behalf. Gabe just wants to sell and move on.’
Move on. But moving out doesn’t necessarily mean moving on.
If only I could gather the funds, I could buy my home back. But I’d need the professional break of my life to secure a mortgage that huge. So I make a mental note to go straight to the Wickfords’ offices in London (yet again) and ask for an appointment in person. That would mean a few days in London, but it would be worth it. It will also be worth getting away from here for a bit. Okay, not away from here, but away from… him.
I need the distance to maintain a sense of self-control. Whenever he’s near, I get jittery and become frazzled and confused. I need to get my bearings, and I need to not see him if I’m going to clear my head. Because I am not in love with him. I am not. I’m just… momentarily lost. And that’s normal, after what Gabe did to me, right?
As it turns out, Henry is actually the next one to arrive, and he finds us chatting over a cup of coffee.
‘Travis, what are you doing here?’
‘Charming your girlfriend here. Or trying to.’
Henry’s head swivels and our eyes meet. There is actually confusion on his face, bless him. Better to make things clear.
‘I’m not his girlfriend,’ I correct him.
I eye Henry who stares at him, then at me, as if to say: What the hell is going on here?
Well, what did you expect, when you’ve been away kissing your ex-wife? I glare back.
‘Great!’ Travis exclaims. ‘The coast is clear, then!’
Henry looks completely frazzled as he is trying to put the pieces together. He’d probably thought I’d never find out. But actually, it’s not up to me to do any explaining, but him. I’m not the one who slept with my ex-wife only the night before jumping into the sack with someone new who has just had her heart broken. You’d think he’d be a bit more responsible or respectful.
‘Travis has been trying to contact you,’ I explain.
‘Yes, well. I’ve been a little busy…’
I’ll say. Only I don’t. Which is a good thing. Learning to be diplomatic at all times is still on my to-do list. Maybe next year.
Travis turns to me. ‘Well, Henry’s here now, are you happy?’
‘Oh, I’m absolutely cock-a-hoop about it,’ I drawl.
‘Cock a what?’ Travis laughs.
‘She’s absolutely thrilled,’ Henry snorts, crossing his arms, his face now all dark and scowly. Too bad for him. He can’t have everything.
‘We’re behind schedule,’ I say, reaching for higher, safer ground again. ‘I need that kitchen ASAP.’
Henry glances at Travis again, then turns to me. ‘Faith, may I have a word with you?’
Huh. He wants a word with me. He’s the one who’s been sleeping with his ex-wife and he wants a word with me? For what, drinking coffee with his mate?
‘Uhm, I can’t. I have to go. My family is waiting for me.’
Henry’s eyes fall to the floor. ‘Right.’