Page 8 of Ex in the City
The driveway stretches out from the main road, smoothly paved and lined with neatly pruned mature trees. It’s nice to see spring creeping up on the branches, and to think that summer will be here before we know it.
It’s a long driveway with space to park several cars outside the house – not that anyone pays much attention to the cars when they’re standing in front of the main event.
The house itself is an impressive, huge and modern renovation with a minimalist design. The smooth white render contrasts beautifully with the anthracite-grey frames of the windows and doors – and with so much of the house being glass, not only does natural light flood the place, but the modern lighting inside carries out into the garden, making the place glow in such an inviting way.
The house is surrounded by a large garden, which is edged with more mature greenery, meaning that when you’re here, it feels like there is nowhere else in the world, as though nothing exists beyond the boundary of the garden. It used to feel soothing but now it just makes me feel isolated.
As I pull up, I’m surprised to see Rowan standing on the driveway, inspecting his car with a frown on his face, because he told me he was out all day today. He catches sight of me, so I can’t really drive off and wait for him to leave, not without making things more awkward, anyway. It’s funny how, aside from the public appearances and putting on a happy front for the kids, Rowan and I feel like complete strangers now. It’s hard to believe that just a couple of months ago, we were sharing a bed, planning our future together. In hindsight, I suppose we had our fair share of problems in our relationship, but then again, no relationship is perfect, is it? I was willing to accept the bumps and obstacles, to persevere and build a happy life together. I was in this for keeps. He was the one who fucked it all up.
I park my car next to his and, as I step out, I can’t help but feel my stress levels creeping up.
‘Hi,’ he says, his voice a mix of hope and worry. ‘Where have you been?’
His question sounds almost accusatory, as though he was expecting to find me here and it’s rattled him that I didn’t come straight home.
‘Rebecca summoned me to a meeting about the kids,’ I reply matter-of-factly, my eyes momentarily darting towards his car. ‘Is your car sorted?’
Rowan nods, but there’s an air of frustration around him.
‘Yeah, I think so.’
I walk around the car to have a look for myself.
‘What do you think? Can you see any sign of it?’ he asks.
I inspect the door closely, searching for any remnants of the damage.
‘No, no sign of it,’ I confirm, keeping my expression neutral.
Rowan’s brows knit together as he shakes his head angrily.
‘I still can’t think who might have done it,’ he says – he’s been saying this ever since it happened last week.
‘Have you double-checked the video doorbell?’ I ask him. ‘There must be something on there.’
‘Yeah,’ Rowan answers, growing more frustrated by the second. ‘But there’s nothing there. Hopefully, this is an end to it and no one saw it. You don’t think they’ll come back, do you?’
I bite my lip, knowing that this situation might not be as put to bed as he is hoping.
‘Oh, I’m sure they won’t come back, it was probably just kids messing around,’ I reply. ‘But you might need to explain to people what happened, if it comes to it. The reason Rebecca called me to a meeting is because apparently the kids are running around saying the word “wanker” and she’s trying to work out where they’ve learned it.’
Rowan winces at the mention of the word. Not because he’s a prude, but because someone graffitied his car with it last week – something he is mortified about – and he’s only just had it removed.
‘You don’t think Archie saw it, do you?’ he asks, clenching his jaw. ‘As if it’s not bad enough someone wrote it on my car, now they’ve got my kid running around saying it.’
‘It will be fine,’ I tell him, offering him a reassuring smile. ‘No one knows where it came from, and I’ll have a word with Archie so he knows it’s a bad word. I can sort it, I just thought I should let you know.’
I turn to head inside, leaving Rowan with the car he cares so much about – honestly, he seemed more upset about it gettinggraffitied than he did about basically everything else that has happened recently.
‘Wait,’ Rowan calls after me. ‘Can we talk?’
‘Can we talk inside?’ I reply. ‘It’s cold out here.’
Rowan follows me into the hallway, and as soon as we’re through the door, he starts.
‘Nicole, come on, how long are you going to keep this up?’ he pleads. ‘I’ve done what you asked, I’ve given you space – surely you must forgive me by now?’
‘Rowan, this isn’t going to blow over,’ I stress. ‘I’ll never be able to trust you again.’
