Page 33 of Say You Love Me

“What?” I yell back, the wind whipping my hair about my face. It was lighter back then, a dark shade of blonde rather than the boring brown it is now.

“It’s time to go home. It’s getting cold.”

On the screen, my chubby legs start running and Dad chases behind me, the camera shaking.

“Where’s your mother?” Dad asks me when we get to the car. My answer is mumbled as the camera gets placed on the front seat. It’s pointing back out at the lake on an odd angle, like he meant to turn it off but didn’t. Mum’s silhouette appears in the distance along the edge of the water. Dad strides over to her and grabs her arm roughly. They’re arguing about something, their voices only just rising above the howl of the wind. It’s not enough to hear what they are saying, only to hear the anger in Dad’s tone. He pulls Mum back to the car and she stumbles as she climbs over the rock, doing her best to keep up with him.

“For fuck’s sake, Bonnie. I told you…” But I don’t get to hear what he tells her as the camera cuts out, fading to black, but not before a desperate, “Callan, please…” reaches the ears of the listener.

“I was going to leave him, did you know that?” Mum lifts her chin as she looks at me. “The night before he died, I told him as much. You see, you don’t know everything about your precious father.”

She does this often when she’s drunk, rant about my father. She’s told me he cheated on her and hit her. She’s told me stories of them dancing by the light of the moon. She’s said he threw hot soup all over her when she cooked the wrong flavor. She’s said he was a wonderful provider. She’s said they were broke. I know she’s probably told me the truth at some stage, but it’s hard to find it hidden in so many lies.

“I barely know anything about him, thanks to you.” My voice is cold, but I don’t look at her. I can’t bear to look at her. She has times like this often. Dark times. Bitter times. Times where she spouts lies and hides truths.

“You’re just like him.” She spits out the words as though they are cursed. “So you may as well leave me, just like he did.”

At first I felt guilty at the thought of leaving my mother.

But now, I don’t.

I close the door on her and shut her out of my life.

chapter fifteen

NOW

~

HUDSON

At the sound of a knock, Finity looks at me hesitantly.

“You should let him in. He’ll be more comfortable if you’re the one to greet him,” I say.

She nods and gets to her feet, taking a deep breath before she walks into the hall to open the door. After seeing her that day with her friend from the center, I haven’t been able to get the thought of him, the way he touched her, the way it was clear he wanted to do so much more than hold her hand, out of my mind. It was the reason that I came home drunk and fucked her. Well, attempted to fuck her. I blame the alcohol. I felt disgusted with myself the next morning. I was sure that Finity would look at me with ridicule in her eyes, the man who was so messed up he couldn’t even fuck his wife.

I apologized the next day. Not for going soft, I never mentioned that, I would never mention it ever, but for the way I went off at her about having lunch. It’s good for her to have people she can talk to, so I told her to invite him over for dinner.

I didn’t tell her that the reason my blood pulsed so deeply, that the reason I couldn’t think about anything other than being inside her was because I’d imagined he was. It was too hard to admit, even to myself.

I told myself I asked her to invite him over so she would know she could talk to him when she needed to. So she would know I wasn’t some jealous freak. But Iwasa jealous freak. I was driven insane by the thought of him touching her, but just not in the way I expected. When I imagined him reaching out to touch her, to kiss her, my dick hardened. It betrayed me.

What sort of man wanted to watch his wife with another?

It’s wasn’t something that had ever occurred to me before. But that was then. That was before the thought of touching her reminded me of everything we’d lost.

She’s wearing a dress that wraps around her body and swings as she walks. It’s covered in flowers. I don’t think Finity has any idea what her body does to men. She claims that this guy, this Rylee, isn’t interested in her. She claims that he’s too young for her to be interested in him, but I know she is lying. About both. There is no way a straight male would look at my wife and not feel things. She’s one of those women who’s unaware of her appeal, which only makes her more appealing.

I stand to the side, peering around the corner as she pulls the door open. I want to hear her greet him. I want to hear him speak to her without him having the fear of her husband overhearing.

“Hi!” Her greeting is too happy, too peppy.

“Wow.” He leans forward and places a kiss on her cheek. They both move haltingly, and then they laugh. “You look amazing.”

“Why, thank you.” Finity does this sort of curtsey thing, holding her skirt out as she dips her head.

He shoves a bottle of wine in her direction. “Here. I didn’t know what to bring. I hope you like red.”

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