‘You fuck off.’
*
That was at 10 p.m. on Saturday night. Neither of us has spoken a word to each other unless Molly’s been there.
Fuck.
Monday September 11th
‘You guys really need to shag this out,’ Lucy advised over lunch.
I put down my water and glared at her. ‘Did you hear anything I just said? She still works there.’
‘Oh, I heard and if you’ll stop giving me evil looks, I’ll explain what I mean.’
I retracted my eyeballs.
‘Look, I understand why he didn’t tell you she still worked there. I would have done the same thing. Knowing that wouldn’t have made a bad situation any easier. And the fact that this seems to all be coming down to sex makes me think that you need to be having some of the angry kind.’
My retracted eyeballs started to roll.
‘He’s already mentioned he thinks about you fucking Frank, you obviously think that he’s been finger-banging the twenty-something, and it’s like you both have something to prove. I say punish the fuck out of each other and let me eat my tuna baguette in peace.’
Tuesday September 12th
By 8 p.m. tonight, I’d had enough. I waited until he’d read Molly a story and pulled him by the shirt into the bedroom.
‘I’m so fucking angry with you. You haven’t spoken to me in days, like this shit is my fault.’
He removed my hand from his shirt. ‘Because you’re being irrational. I want to talk about this, you want to accuse me of doing shit I didn’t do. You fucked the man you work with and I’m supposed to be OK with that?’
‘You’re fucking jealous of a fling I had before we even got together! Are you that fucking insecure?’ I was grabbing his shirt again. I didn’t even realise it until he firmly removed my hand once more.
‘You’re the insecure one,’ he replied. ‘And stop fucking grabbing me! You’re nuts.’
‘I’m nuts? I’m not the one running around kissing women who – who . . . text with their THUMBS!’
‘What?’
We stood there, inches apart, seething, neither of us backing down. Until I grabbed his shirt again, pulling it out of his trousers and moving quickly on to his belt. He pushed my hands away and hesitated for a moment before whispering, ‘Fuck you’. He spun me around to face the wall, his hands frantically lifting up my skirt before tugging my underwear down so forcefully I felt it graze my skin. With his hand over my mouth, we had sex over my dressing table, hoping that Molly wouldn’t wake up and force us to snap out of this, whatever this was. I watched him behind me in the mirror, almost hunched over me, every thrust deep and deliberate; he didn’t take his eyes off me the entire time.
When we got to bed, I didn’t kiss him goodnight or even cuddle him. I may have worked out some frustration but my anger was still raw. Still, there’s no way he’ll forget this. No office twit will ever shag him the way I can.
Thursday September 14th
‘This can’t be normal,’ I said, panting as I lay on the floor. ‘We’ve angry-fucked four times this week already. I have carpet burns.’
Oliver stood up and stretched. ‘I feel like I’ve gone fifteen rounds with Connor McGregor. Even my arse cheeks hurt. You’re going to put me in the hospital.’
‘Here’s hoping.’
‘As much as I’m on board with this conflict resolution, are you really still that pissed with me?!’
I sat up and wiped my brow on the t-shirt he’d ripped off me earlier. ‘Yes! You lied to me! She still fucking works there and—’
‘I’m not going over this again,’ he said, getting up. ‘I feel like I’m banging my head off a brick wall. If we need to go back to therapy, fine, but for now, I’m done talking about it.’
‘Good, because I’m fucking fed up hearing your lame excuses for being a lying prick.’
