Page 29 of She Devil
‘I need to explain why I acted the way I did after we broke up.’
I blink at him, completely surprised by this. I was expecting an apology for him walking away from me like that in the pool, not about his behaviour ten years ago.
‘Okay. I’m listening,’ I say warily.
‘Okay.’ He blows out a long, low breath, as if readying himself to do this. He picks up his spoon and swirls it through the soup as if needing something practical to focus on while he speaks. ‘When you finished with me so suddenly I felt like my whole world had fallen apart,’ he begins.
He pauses and looks at me, as if checking this is a safe subject, so I nod, encouraging him to go on with his story, my heart thumping in my chest.
‘I knew that your mother’s sudden death had been a horrific shock, and that you’d need time alone with your family to get through that period, which is why I gave you the space you asked for at first.’ He pauses again, his eyes filled with sadness. ‘But I couldn’t understand, when I came to you later to let you know I was there for you whenever you needed me, how you could just turn your back on what we had.’ He grips his spoon harder, his knuckles turning white.
My stomach gives a swoop of regret as I see the pain he’s remembering flicker in his eyes.
It had hurt me too, more than I’d ever let him know.
‘I didn’t understand what had gone wrong. What I could have possibly done to cause that. It made me crazy. I felt so fuckingpowerless.’
He sighs and shakes his head. ‘After what we’d shared, I really thought we were solid. That we cared for each other. Loved each other.’ He looks directly into my eyes again and I have to steel myself not to react to this.
My chest feels like it’s been trapped in a vice, and my heart aches with the emotional pain I’m experiencing, but I can’t let him see that. I can’t. Ican’t.
‘But I guess I was wrong,’ he carries on when I don’t say anything, resting his spoon on the side of his bowl, apparently not hungry any more. ‘I guess our lives were destined to go in very different directions from that point. But I couldn’t accept it at first. I thought—naïvely, I now realise—that if you heard I’d been seeing other people it would make you jealous. That you’d decide you’d made a mistake and want me back. And when that didn’t work I was so fucking frustrated I did the most stupid thing in the world.’ He runs a hand over his creased brow. ‘I started drinking heavily.’
There’s a loaded pause while we both reflect on the implications of this.
‘You remember my mother died from liver failure, right?’ he says quietly.
I nod, not able to speak, my heart in my throat.
‘So I’m sure you’ve put two and two together by now and figured out that she was an alcoholic. She couldn’t control her urge to drink and keep on drinking. I thought I was okay with alcohol, but it turns out a traumatic event can turn me into someone I had no idea I was capable of being. Someone weak and needy. And when I started drinking heavily I couldn’t stop. I had no off-switch. There are weeks from around that time that I have no memory of. I know I behaved badly because my friends were honest enough to tell me about it. And I know that I told one of the women I was fucking at the time—who it turned out had a real grudge against you, for some reason—about you begging me for anal sex.’
He’s referring to a sex game we used to play and at least has the decency to look thoroughly ashamed at blabbing about this.
‘Which I recognise was a terrible abuse of trust and I know resulted in a lot of unkind gossip flying around about you,’ he adds.
He holds up a hand and shakes his head, not able to meet my eyes now. ‘Shit, I’m so sorry about that. It was unforgivable. But I was so angry with you for rejecting me, and half-crazy with frustration and alcohol poisoning at the time, I did nothing to quash it. I guess in my addled, fucked up state I told myself you deserved it for hurting me so badly.’
He picks up his spoon again and jabs it into the rich liquid in his bowl. ‘So, yes, you’re absolutely right about me being ego-driven and self-serving. And, of course, that’s why I don’t drink alcohol any more. I stopped before it ruined my tennis career and the rest of my life.’
He leans back in his chair and folds his arms, studying me with a steady, contemplative gaze. ‘The shame I felt about it has dogged me for far too long now. It’s been a really destructive force in my life and I don’t want to carry it with me any more. I’m done with pandering to my resentment about what could have been with us. It’s time to move on.’
The smile he gives me now is tinged with remorse.
‘The truth is, I wanted you to stay here so I could prove to you, and to myself, that it’s possible. That I’ve changed. That I’m over you and what we had. What happened at that charity fundraiser was a real wake-up call. I let my grief about losing my father get the better of me and lost my mind. I was still pretty raw then and probably shouldn’t have gone that night. I definitely shouldn’t have ripped your dress. And I shouldn’t have fucked you like that, especially because I didn’t even stop for one second to think about using a condom. That was irresponsible and really fucking stupid.’
He shoots me a look of apology, which morphs into concern. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you? I realise I never asked. I guess I thought you’d let me know if that was the case.’
I shake my head, his apology ringing in my ears. ‘I’m not pregnant. I’ve been on the pill for years. And, just so you know, I did all the sensible tests they recommend after unprotected sex, so I know there are no other issues we need to deal with either.’
‘Good to know,’ he says with a relieved smile. ‘And, in the spirit of sharing, I did them too and got the same results.’
I suddenly realise I’ve reduced my bread roll into crumbs as he’s talked and I pick up my napkin and wipe my fingers to give myself a chance to look away from him for a second.
His confessions have knocked me for six and the tension that’s slowly been mounting in my chest since this morning has grown and grown until my heart feels like it wants to explode.
The problem is, I’ve used his anger and cruelty towards me as a shield from my real feelings for him for so long—even though I’ve never allowed myself fully to admit it—and now I’ve finally heard an apology for the way he treated me I don’t know how to protect myself any more. It’s as if he’s peeled back a shell I’ve been relying on and now I’m raw and vulnerable to his charm. I’m reminded of my longing for what we used to have. A feeling that’s never really gone away. It’s bubbled there, under the surface, permeating my every thought, my every action.
He’s like a dangerous drug. Addictive and sanity-threatening.
