No longer scared, this man is angry.
Bring it on because I’m ready to fucking rumble.
“I asked you a question. Where is my passport?”
“With mine.”
“And where would that be?”
“In a safe place.”
The last of my temper together snaps in spectacular fashion, and I explode. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“What I heard is that you’re a controlling asshole.”
He puts his coffee cup down and it clangs on the counter. “Do not push me today, April. I am not in the mood for your dramatic fucking bullshit.” He bellows.
My eyes bulge. “You are not in the mood for my bullshit?” I point to my chest.
“That’s what I said. Use your ears and listen.”
Oh my God. I see red.
“Listen here, you condescending prick. You don’t get to take my passport. If I want to go anywhere, I will be going, with or without your permission.”
He glares at me.
“Don’t give me that look, Sebastian. I won’t have it.”
“And don’t you lock me out of my own fucking bedroom.” He slams his hand on the kitchen counter. “Do you fucking understand me?”
That’s it.
I turn and storm to the bedroom to get my handbag.
That’s it.
He remains in the kitchen drinking his coffee and, damn it, I have to have one last say.
I march back to him. “Don’t you dare get angry at me for being upset that my new husband is a liar,” I cry. “Do you have any idea how disappointing that is?”
“There’s only one liar in this room, and we both know who that is.” he growls.
I screw up my face. “When have I ever lied to you?”
“I believe the words were for better or worse.” He sneers sarcastically.
Our wedding vowels. My heart drops.
He jumps from his chair, unable to hold his raging bull temper. “If this isn’t the worst, April, I don’t fucking know what is.” He yells. “The very first hurdle we face, you make me do it alone.” He throws his hands up in defeat and then walks out the door, slamming it hard.
My eyes well with tears.
Fuck.
I sit in the café waiting for Jeremy. I keep going over what Sebastian said to me before he left. You make me do it alone.
I hate that he sees it like that, and I wonder if this is what happened with him and Helena. He had an issue and she locked him out and made him face the problem alone. Their sex life was both of their problem. But did she make him feel like it was only his? Then, being the stubborn bastard that he is, did he get so resentful that he locked her out in return?
Both of them not speaking, in separate beds. I wonder how long they lived like that.
Days, weeks, months?
I exhale heavily. Well, I’m too angry at his stage to even think about it anymore. I’m not letting him turn this around on me.
I haven’t done anything wrong.
I never once said that I was blaming him for this, only that he should have told me the facts at the time in which they happened. And how dare he say that I’m making him face this alone when it was his choice not to tell me about it in the first place? He chose to do this alone, not the other way around.
Seriously, is open communication in a marriage really too much to ask for?
“Sorry I’m late.” Jeremy smiles and falls into the chair.
I give him a weak smile.
His face falls. “Are you okay?”
“Been better.”
“Why, what’s happened?”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
He holds his hands up. “I wouldn’t, you know that.”
“Sebastian’s ex-wife threw in a bombshell when I stopped the blackmailing situation.”
He frowns, waiting for me to go on.
“She said she’s fourteen weeks pregnant with Sebastian’s baby.”
“What?” He gasps. “They’ve still been sleeping together?”
“Apparently, it was the night he and Bart were drugged in Bath. Helena says that he called her and asked her to come to him, but Sebastian says he remembers nothing.”
His eyes widen in horror. “Can men even ejaculate when they’re unconscious?”
“Apparently.” I drag my hand down my face.
“Fucking hell.” He takes my hand over the table. “Do you believe him?”
“Am I an idiot if I do?” I wince.
He shrugs.
“I honestly don’t believe he would do this.” I think for a moment. “And not just to me, but in general. I know he loves me, and I really can’t see him calling her. Especially not for sex. They aren’t even on speaking terms. But then, if he was drugged…”
Jeremy’s eyes widen as another train of thought crosses his mind, “Hang on. So, did Helena drug them?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought of that.”
He frowns. “Because if she drugged them, that means Bart’s wife is telling the truth and…” His eyes widen. “Bart did order the prostitutes himself like she is saying.”
I hold my temples. “This is one big fucking nightmare.”
“Hi,” a voice interrupts us.
“Oh, hi.” Jeremy fakes a smile. “Oliver this is April.”
“Hi, April.”
“Hi.”
Oliver pulls out a chair and sits down. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”
Damn it, not now Oliver, whoever you are. I’m in the middle of a serious crisis here.
Oliver chats on and on, and I really have to get to work.
Ugh…
“I have to go.” I smile.
“I’ll see you tonight, darling,” Jeremy says.
“Tonight?”
“We have the welcome dinner.”
I frown, confused.
“You know, the celebratory dinner. It’s at Market Street in the ballroom. Black tie? You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
Oh, crap, I completely had. “That’s right,” I lie.
Great, another dress I have to find today, for fuck’s sake. I don’t have time for this black tie bullshit.
“I’ll see you tonight?” I ask.
“Sure, baby.” Jeremy stands and kisses my cheek. “Sorry,” he whispers in my ear.
“Nice to meet you, Oliver.” I smile and make a dash for the door, I text Sebastian.
What time is tonight?
A reply bounce’s in:
I don’t expect you to come.
I narrow my eyes. Don’t piss me off, fucker.
Don’t be cute.
What time?
I wait for his answer.
Seven.