My brain tries to catch up with what he just said. “Where exactly do you see this relationship going, Julian?”
His eyes find mine. “Don’t start.”
“Don’t start?” I shake my head. “What do you fucking mean, don’t start?”
“It means I’m not having this conversation.”
“So, that’s it? As far as you’re concerned we’re just going to keep going on like this?”
“Like what?” he snaps.
“Sneaking around.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
Oh, my God. I shake my head and stare out the front windscreen.
“What do you have in that head of yours, Bree?” He huffs.
My face falls and my anger begins to simmer. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a future with a man who is actually proud to be seen with me.”
“Don’t start that fucking shit.” He sneers. “You know how I feel about you.”
“Fucking shit?” I repeat. “I don’t know what part of ‘I love you’ you don’t understand, but I want to be with a man who one day has plans to maybe marry me.” His looks at me like I’ve gone completely mad. “I’m not marrying again. No way in hell am I ever getting married again, Brielle. Get that shit out of your head right fucking now.” He grips the steering wheel and shakes his head. “So if that’s what you want from a man, we should probably end it.”
“What?” I gasp. I watch him for a moment as he grips the steering wheel with white-knuckle force.
“I am not going to be fucking controlled again with a wedding ring!” he yells.
My mouth falls open in shock. He’s actually serious. “What about children?” I ask, feeling my blood run cold. “Do you want more children?”
“I’m thirty-nine, Brielle.”
“So?”
“I’m not having any more children. I’m too old.” My eyes instantly fill with tears. “Then what are we doing here?” I cry. “I thought we were in love?”
He falls silent and stares at the road. “And I thought you were happy with simply having me,” he says flatly.
“I am happy with you, but what about my needs? I’m twenty-six. I’ve never been married and I want my own children.” I put my hands up to my chest. “I want your children and my children.”
He inhales deeply, not saying another word. Julian keeps his eyes on the road and we drive home in silence.
When he parks the car, I get out and slam the door shut before I march inside. Willow and Lola are sitting on the sofa watching television. “Hello.” I smile as I walk past them. “I’m beat. Going to bed.”
I hear Julian put the keys down on the bench in the foyer as he walks in behind me. “Hi, Dad,” Willow calls. “What’s wrong with Brell?”
“I don’t know. I just picked her up on my way through. She was out with Emerson.”
I close my eyes in disgust and walk into my bedroom.
What a gutless wonder.
It’s 2:00 a. m. when I feel my bed dip and Julian climb in behind me. I pretend I’m asleep. I don’t want to talk to him. He wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my hair.
“I can’t sleep without you, baby,” he whispers.
I close my eyes. If I open my mouth now we’re only going to fall into a huge screaming match. Maybe he just needs time to get his head around everything.
I suppose we’ve never had this conversation before. I just assumed that he knew I would want these things. I lie in the dark for a while, thinking. Maybe if I just let it lie for a while he could come around to the idea. I roll over and face him.
We stare at each other in the darkness.
“I’m not Alina, Julian.”
“I know.” He pulls me to him. “I never loved her.”
My eyes fill with tears. “Yet she got to be your wife and have your children,” I whisper.
He holds me tight and kisses my forehead. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, babe.”
I close my eyes against his shoulder, and I know this conversation is far from over. “Me neither.”
Julian
I’m sitting at the bar in a pub with Sebastian and Spencer. We’re twenty-two years old, and it’s the morning of my wedding. Dressed in our suits, we’re ready for the church, but the mood is sombre. They’re trying to comfort me the best they can.
I’m devastated about what I’m about to do-for the way I fucked up everything.
If I were going to prison for life, I would be happier than I am right now.
I stare at a small droplet of beer that has spilt next to a coaster, and I release a shaky breath.
“Did you organise a honeymoon?” Spencer asks softly.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Scotland.”
“How long are you going for?”
“A week.” I sip my beer.
We all stay silent and stare straight ahead.
“Any luck, she’ll fuck a Scotsman and ask you for a divorce,” Seb offers.
I nod without emotion, and I close my eyes in regret. Another wave of nausea rolls through me. I’ve been throwing up all morning.
“Don’t do this, Masters,” Spencer begs. “This is the worse fucking decision you’ll ever make.” Seb and he exchange looks. “She trapped you, man. She’s after money. Just give it to her. Give her fucking all of it.”
My eyes rise to meet his. We’ve had this conversation a million times. Even my parents have begged me not to go through with it.
“I’m not letting another man bring up my child,” I tell them sadly.
“So, you’re sacrificing your whole fucking life for a baby that you don’t even know?” Spence snaps in disgust.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I can stand next to you and watch you do this,” Seb says, his voice monotone.
I get a lump in my throat. “That’s okay. You guys don’t have to come if you don’t want.”.
The driver arrives at the front door of the pub. “We need to get going for the church or we’ll be late,” he says.
I nod, watching as he disappears out the door.
My heart begins to hammer in my chest.
“Let’s just fuck off,” Spencer splutters, his panic rising. “We can go to the states. Yeah. We’ll live there and you can send her money.” He shakes his head. “Just don’t fucking do this, Masters.”
I drag myself off the stool
Beep, beep.
I’m snapped back to the present by the car honking its horn behind me. I look up to see the traffic lights have now turned red, meaning I’ve completely missed them.
I’m on my way to work. The horror of my younger life has been playing heavily on my mind this week. It’s as if I’m back there, dealing with it all over again.
The lights change, and I click into first gear to floor it.
I can’t go back there again.
Not now. Not ever.