Easy Kisses

Page 48

But I don’t like the idea of Simon keeping his things somewhere else. He should be here, with me.
“Here’s a key.”
He accepts it, then takes my hand and kisses it tenderly.
“You’ll hardly know I’m here,” he says, his eyes dancing with mirth.
“Right.” I laugh and shake my head. “You’re kind of hard to miss, Simon.”
“I blend quite well.”
I laugh now and cup his cheek in my hand. “Given that I can’t seem to stay away from you, I doubt that I’ll forget you’re here. But I want you here. So please make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” We’re grinning foolishly at each other when his phone rings.
“Sorry, I have to take this.” He frowns and accepts the call. “Hello, Mum.”
He walks out of the room, not bothering to lower his voice, and I can’t help but listen.
“No, I won’t be calling her.”
I sit on the edge of my bed.
“Because I don’t want anything to do with her. I’m sorry that she’s going through that, but it’s no longer my problem.”
There’s a pause and I hear him sigh.
“Yes, I know how you feel. You’ve made it quite clear. I’ll make myself clear. I would rather you didn’t speak to her, but I can’t control who you choose to talk to.”
His voice has gone hard and cold. I’ve never heard him like this.
“Mother, I didn’t tell you everything that happened because it was none of your business. But I will say this, please consider the source when she’s crying on your shoulder. Well, then I guess I’m heartless.”
What the hell? Simon is the least heartless man I know!
“Listen to me. I’m not going to bloody call her. Ever. That part of my life is closed. Have a good evening, Mother.”
He ends the call, and I wait for what seems forever for him to come back. When he doesn’t, I walk into the sitting room to find him sitting with his head in his hands. He looks…defeated.
I cross to him and rub circles on his back.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t like arguing with my mother,” he says softly. “And it seems that we argue more than anything lately.”
“What do you argue about?” I ask, not at all ashamed to pry.
He lets out a humorless laugh and stands, pacing away from me, then back again. He rubs his neck and I sit, waiting for him to work out whatever is torturing him.
“I told you about Amy, my ex-wife, and how our marriage ended.”
“Yes, that you’d found her cheating on you.”
He nods and paces the room.
“The thing is, her cheating on me was the least of it. She did me a favor by fucking around because she gave me a valid reason to leave her.”
“What did she do to you?” I ask, and clench my shaking hands in my lap.
“Physically? Just the scratches on my arm. But she was manipulative and emotionally abusive from the moment we got married. I was an idiot. I would give in every time she threatened to kill herself if she didn’t get her way or like the way things were going.”
“She threatened to kill herself?”
“Not often in the beginning, but as time went on, it became more frequent. I don’t know how many times I’d come home to find that she’d swallowed pills and I had to call an ambulance. She could cue tears at the drop of a hat.
“I had her in therapy over and over again. She would claim that the therapist came on to her, or tried to have sex with her, and would refuse to go back.” He turns to me, his deep blue eyes radiating pain. “Those poor men, and one woman, did nothing wrong but tell her that she’s a sociopath.
“I couldn’t help her, and it tore me apart. I thought I loved her, and I did. Otherwise I never would have asked her to marry me.”
“But she was abusive, Simon.”
“She was ill.”
“Bullshit.” I stand and prop my hands on my hips. “She was a mean, manipulative woman. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was playing head games with you for her own enjoyment.”
He swallows hard.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know her, but I can see what she did to you.”
“I’ve made it my life’s work to empower women. To help them believe that they are worthy of everything wonderful in this world. I’ve helped women leave their abusive husbands, end careers that were toxic, and even stand up to parents and family members who were nothing but bullies. And here I am, a man who couldn’t help his wife. You were right in Montana, I am a hypocrite.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, you are no such thing.” Now I’m just angry. At him for believing this bullshit and at her for, well, for being her. “I was mad at you and I shouldn’t have said that. She didn’t want to be helped, Simon. That’s what you need to realize. I hate this saying, but it’s true: you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. You did what you could for her, but she didn’t think anything was wrong. She was manipulating you, and she was pretending to be sick. In reality, she loved the attention you gave her, and she loved getting her own way.”
He’s watching me with so much hope in his eyes that I want to cry. My God, has he been clinging to this false sense of responsibility for all this time?
“I’m proud of you for walking away and washing your hands of her. And I understand not wanting to air all your dirty laundry to your family, but they should know some of it, Simon. Especially if your mother is choosing to keep Amy in her life.”