Page 83 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
“I get what you’re saying,” said Guy. “And I admire the way you’ve broken the mold, I do. It’s just not for me. I am what I am. Camille knew what she married, and if she’s decided that she can’t handle it, then so be it.”
“You really are the most conceited person I have ever met,” Jeremy mused.
“It’s not conceit. I’m accepting that she doesn’t want to be with me.”
“Do you really think that?” Nory asked. “Because I think Camille is still very much in love with you, even though you are a complete dickhead.”
“She’ll get over it. She’s the most capable woman I’ve ever met. Nothing rattles her, which is probably why she’s put up with me for as long as she has.”
“Do you talk to your wife much?” Nory asked. “Genuine question.”
“What the hell does that mean? Of course I talk to her.”
“Guy, Camille is not okay.”
Guy looked at her, confused. “She’s fine,” he said, brushing her off.
Nory’s frustration was rising. “No, she isn’t. And if you pulled your head out of your arse, you’d see it. She’s struggling. I’ve known her for like five minutes and I can see it. I don’t know if she’s headed for a breakdown, but she’s headed for something.”
Genuine concern flickered across his face. “You don’t even know her,” he said, suddenly on the defensive.
“Exactly!” Nory retorted. “She had to share her pain with practical strangers because the person who should be listening to her is a narcissistic pig. What does that tell you about the state of your marriage? Or lack thereof, since she’s all but left you.”
“Don’t lecture me on my marriage, little miss can’t find a husband!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“All right!” Charles held up a hand. “Let’s all just take a breath, shall we, before the fists start flying again.”
“Nory’s right,” Jeremy added. “I wasn’t going to bring it up because I thought you probably knew, being her husband and all. But Camille is going through something. We had quite a long chat after dinner the other night. I understand that youmight have misgivings about couple’s counseling, but maybe you should push Camille in the direction of some help.”
“I don’t want some shrink knowing my business” was Guy’s response.
“You’d rather spend your days lifting the lids on other people’s secrets than risk exposing your own,” said Jeremy dryly.
Guy smiled sardonically. “I prefer to think of myself as a seeker of truth.”
Nory had had enough.
“A complete wanker is what you are if you let Camille go,” she exploded. “And an irresponsible, heartless bastard if you do nothing while your wife is clearly suffering. Are you really so selfish that you won’t eventryto be a better version of yourself for the sake of your marriage?”
Guy looked at her levelly. “I don’t think I’ve heard so many insults come out of your mouth since the morning after Tristan’s funeral.”
“You’re an arsehole!” said Nory. “I should have asked Isaac to punch you harder.”
“I still haven’t decided whether I ought to press charges,” said Guy, touching the tips of his fingers to his swollen nose.
“Let me help to take your mind off the pain in your face,” said Nory. She walked across to where Guy was sitting, leaned over him, and tipped the contents of the cafetiere in his lap. Guy jumped up, yelping and pulling at his crotch. She heard Charles gasp in horror but caught Jeremy’s amused expression as she replaced the empty pot on the tray.
“Maybe some coffee will help you to sober up,” she said sweetly, and left the library, pulling the heavy door shut with a bang behind her.
Twenty-three
Nory was lying on her bed, staring at the canopy above. She’d called Andrew to ask about the shop, but also to tell him about the day’s events.
“Urrgh!” Andrew made a disgusted noise down the phone. “Men like Guy make my skin crawl.”
“There should be a place where people like Camille can go to build up an immunity to shit husbands,” said Nory.
