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This Man Confessed

Page 42

   


‘What did she say?’ she screeches down the phone before it’s even rung.
‘Apologised.’ I’m a little breathless. ‘Anyway, I’m keeping the baby.’
She laughs at me. ‘Of course you are, you stupid cow.’
I smile as I run towards the car park, keen to get my appointment with Ruth out of the way so I can get to Jesse.
 
 
* * *
 
 
‘Ava!’ Her smiley face almost irritates me.
‘Hi, Ruth.’ I practically push past her into the shell of a kitchen, doing a quick analyse. Everything looks like it’s on track. Nothing is jumping out as being a problem. ‘I can’t stay long, Ruth. I have another meeting.’ I turn to face her.
‘Oh? Coffee?’ She looks hopeful.
‘No, really. What’s the problem?’ I ask, trying to prompt her along, but she doesn’t look like she’s in a hurry as she meanders over to a makeshift table and starts faffing with a mug.
‘I’ll just make myself one, and we can go sit in the lounge where it’s less dusty.’
I screw my face up in frustration. ‘I’m sorry, I double booked, Ruth. Can we re-arrange?’ I’m feeling panicky.
‘Oh. It won’t take long.’ She carries on about her slow business, while I shift impatiently behind her. You would think she was doing this on purpose. ‘Did you have a good weekend with your parents?’
The question throws me, but I quickly engage my brain before I drop myself in it. ‘Oh, yes, thank you.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want a coffee?’ She lazily strolls over to the fridge to get the milk.
‘No, honestly.’ I can’t help the irritation in my tone.
‘It’s funny. I was sure that I saw you on Friday evening.’ she says casually. ‘In a bar. What’s it called?’ She pours the milk leisurely and stirs even slower. ‘That’s it. Baroque on Piccadilly.’
‘Oh?’ Shit! ‘Yes, I joined a few work friends. Nothing much. I left Saturday morning to visit my parents.’ My fingers are twisting wildly in my hair. Why am I even lying to her? What I do and when I do it is none of her business.
She turns with a smile, but then her eyes fall on my left hand and there is no mistaking the eye bulge. I look at my diamond adorned ring finger and suddenly feel uneasy. ‘You’ve never said you were married.’ she laughs. ‘I feel so stupid! There’s me, telling you to steer clear of all men, and all along you were married!’ She actually starts blushing, and a horrible realisation kicks in.
She’s gay! Oh no! Oh fucking hell! That would explain it, all of the invitations to drinks, the persistent calling and meetings, and now her eyes bulging at my rings. She fancies me. Now I really do feel uncomfortable.

‘Wait there.’ She frowns. ‘I remember you saying you had a boyfriend,’ Her frown deepens. ‘And you didn’t have any rings on last week.’
I shift on my heels. ‘I only recently got married.’ I’m not going into this. ‘My rings were being re-sized.’ I can’t look at her. She’s attractive, but not like that.
‘Why didn’t you say?’ She sounds offended.
Why didn’t I say? Lots of reasons! ‘It was a low-key affair. Just family.’ Would she have expected an invite, or would she have tried to stop me? All this talk is making me want to get to Jesse even more. Should I tell her that I’m pregnant too? By, the look on her face, it would probably finish her off. She looks hurt. ‘Ruth, I really must ask what you wanted to discuss so I can remedy it and get going. I’m sorry to do this.’
She makes an obviously bad job of hiding her alarm and giving me a fake smile. ‘No, you go. It can wait.’
I’m relieved but shocked. Maybe this was the best thing that could’ve happened. Will she ease off on the persistent offers of drinks and meetings? I can’t believe I didn’t see this before. A woman who looks like this with no man? I don’t dwell on it for long, though. I’m itching to escape, and not just because I have a female admirer.
‘Thank you, Ruth. We’ll re-arrange.’ I don’t hang around. I exit hastily and wave my arm over my shoulder as I do. I’m such a fool.
I run down the path and jump into my shiny new car, nearly breaking down in tears when Angel hits my eardrums.
 
 
* * *
 
 
I frantically stab at the button on the intercom, but after a few agonising minutes, the gates still aren’t opening, so I dive into my bag and retrieve my phone to dial him. It rings once.
‘Ava?’
‘The gates won’t open!’ I sound distressed and crazy, but I’m going out of my mind with the need to see him.
‘Hey, calm down.’ He sounds equally anxious. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m at the gates! I’ve been pressing the button, but no one’s opening them!’
‘Ava, stop it. You’re worrying me.’
‘I need you.’ I sob, finally giving in to the overwhelming guilt that’s been looming deep inside of me for days. ‘Jesse, I need you.’
I can hear his laboured breathing down the phone. He’s running. ‘Pull down the sun visor, baby.’
I look up through my tears and yank down the white leather, finding two small black devices. I don’t wait for his instruction. I press them both and the gates start to swing open. I throw my phone on the passenger seat and bang my foot down on the accelerator, immediately zooming forward. I’m crying hard now, painful, aching, heavy tears as I weave up the tree lined driveway in a blur until I see Jesse’s Aston Martin come speeding from the other direction. I slam my brakes on and jump out, running at full pelt toward him.
He looks absolutely terrified as he flies from his car, leaving the door open, and sprints towards his crazy, hysterical wife. I can’t help it, I’m freaking him out, but this sudden clarity has sent me into a panic attack. I’ve lost control of my emotions. The cold hearted bitch I’ve been is suddenly melting and letting me see things clearly.
Our bodies’ crash together, and I’m immediately engulfed by him, every hard muscle pushed up against me as I’m lifted and held tight to his body. I sob relentlessly into his neck as he paces around the driveway just holding me. I’m so stupid. I’m such a stupid, selfish, heartless cow.
‘Jesus, Ava.’ he pants into my neck.
‘I’m sorry.’ I still sound frantic, even though I feel a million times better for being in his arms.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing. I just needed to see you.’ I grip him tighter. I can’t get him close enough.
‘Fucking hell, Ava! Please, explain!’ He tries to release me, but I firm up my already iron hold, refusing to let him put me down. ‘Ava?’
‘Can we go home?’
‘No! Not until you tell me why the fuck you’re in such a state.’ he shouts, battling with my clutching arms. I’m no match for him. He soon detaches me from his body and stands me in front of him, scanning every square inch of my figure as he holds the tops of my arms. ‘What’s going on?’