Page 141 of All the Forbidden Things
“No, but once you tell me, I want you to show me.”
And he does. Slowly, reverently, he both worships every inch of me before fucking me senseless. He tells me with his words and he shows me with his body. We both have a cry, but our resolve is strong, we’re determined to find a way to make this work.
I consider myself a prettyresilient person, but when I wake in the early hours amongst a tangle of sheets and Max, I know I’m not strong enough for an emotional goodbye. So, I carry out what is possibly the first cowardly act of my life: I slide out of bed, pull on my clothes, and I leave.
Hailing a cab outside the hotel, I ask the driver to take me to my flat. With Whitney evicted, and Max going to collect Layla from his mum’s before returning to Jay’s, I’ll have time to take a shower, gather my thoughts, some clothes, my passport and I.D, and try and work out what the fuck I’m going to do with my life for the next little while.
Max
Before I even open myeyes, I know that she’s gone. The bed and my body smell of both sex and Billie, but I know that she’s not there.
When I swing my legs to the floor and sit up, I find a note:
I Love You!
I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough for goodbye,
but I’ll be in touch soon.
I Love You. I Love You. I Love You.
Whitney thinks she’s won. I’ve agreed to every single one of her demands, including ending things with Billie. I have no choice. I can placate her with money and materialistic things, but I won’t win a custody battle, but this battle isn’t over, not by a long fucking shot.
Despite only sharing one bottle of wine last night, my head’s banging like we drank ten and I’m in no mood to fuck about in a taxi, so I call Micky and ask him to meet me outside the hotel in thirty.
After a quick shower, I pull on yesterday’s clothes, and make my way down to the hotel lobby.
I step outside … and walk straight into a press frenzy.
“Max.”
“This way Max.”
“Are you divorcing Whitney, Max?”
“What’s the deal with the redhead?”
“Is it true she’s Callum Wild’s sister?”
“Did you and Wild fight?”
“Are the band splitting up?”
I look for Micky in the Rover, my first instinct is to give them nothing. Taking a deep breath in at the same time thinking, “fuck it,” I raise my arms to silence the group of about twenty reporters and paparazzi.
“Move,” Mick appears at my side and roars after his phone gets knocked out of his hand and smashes all over the concrete. “Fucking move back.” He forcibly pushes the mob back with his hands.
“If you all shut up and stop shouting, I’ll talk,” I shout out.
Mick frowns in my direction, mumbling, “are you fucking mad?”
“Probably,” I reply, before opening my mouth and possibly talking my way into the biggest bollocking I’m ever likely to receive from Lennon Layton, along with a lifetime’s worth of “for fucks sake’s.”
“Whitney Federov and I have separated. The separation actually happened before her accident when she left me for Alex Gardener. She’s been rehabilitating at my house in St John’s Wood, and we’ve attempted to repair our marriage, but her infidelity has made our differences irreconcilable, so that arrangement is now over, and we are going our separate ways. We will share joint custody of our daughter, although she will remain living with me. As for the redhead, I’m sure you all know her name, and for those who aren’t sure, it’s Billie Wild. She’s been kind enough to help me out as a nanny, during Whitney’s recovery, that arrangement has too now ended. That’s all you’re getting from me, boys and girls.”
I duck my head and allow Micky to lead me to the car. Ignoring the barrage of questions and the assault of camera flashes happening all around me.
“How’d I do?” I ask Mick as we lock ourselves inside the car.
