“Well, have you been fucking Lauren lots or was it just a one-night treat because you felt sad as your fiancée went home feeling shit?” Fury burns through my veins.It feels painful as it rushes through my body.
He doesn’t answer.
“A while then. Fuck, Greg, why not just break up with me? Why fuck Lauren of all people? She’s awful.” The fire in my belly is a full-on inferno now.
“It just happened, Harri.” He sits on the bed, head in his hands. “She made me feel good, laugh even. You’re right, I felt shit, I got drunk and we slept together in Mayfair. And again last night. But I swear to you it was just drunk sex. It’s different from me and you.”
“So, I can go out and just fuck any man because I also feel shit, Greg?” My tongue lashes with anger.
He looks at me, jealousy boiling under his skin. “Is that what you want?”
“No, Greg, what I want is someone who is supportive, loves me more than life, more than how much money he makes or getting his dick sucked by a stuck-up bitch.” I can’t stop. I’m so angry at him, but even more angry at myself.
“She didn’t suck my dick.” He talks like I should be grateful!
I throw my hands up in the air. “Great, good to know.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Honestly, you’ve made this so much easier for me, so I thank you for that, but Lauren? Out of everyone. Oh God, were you there when I called her thismorning? Oh God, you were. This is so embarrassing.” The lump in my throat grows but I refuse to let him see I’m upset. “And keeping her underwear? What is wrong with you?” I can’t even hide my disgust.
He pleads with me. “She must have put them in my pocket, so you’d see. You know what she’s like.”
“I do. That’s why I have lost all respect for you.”
He sits there, knowing he has completely fucked up.
“I’m sorry, Harri, I really am,” he whispers with shaky breath. He’s upset, angry and probably annoyed he’s been found out.
“Greg, I think you know what I’m going to say. This just isn’t working. For either of us, obviously. I’ll send someone over for my stuff in the week. I’ll go and stay at my parents’ until we figure out how we’re splitting things.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this.” His eyes are now tearing up slightly.
“It’s does. I’m not happy, you’re not happy… Yeah, what a life, Greg. This is what I needed. A kick up the ass to actually walk away.” The adrenaline is now pumping through my body.
He sits silently. I can tell he’s upset, but I can also tell he agrees with me.
I grab an overnight bag and start putting in enough clothes and toiletries to get me by until I can sort out the rest of my belongings. I don’t want to stay at my parents’ but it’s a place to go. Once Greg gives me half of the apartment money, I’ll be fine. He won’t sell it. It’s too good for the location it’s in, so he has no choice but to buy me out. That’ll be his dad’s money. The whole time I’m packing Greg doesn’t move. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands silently crying. He’s not a bad person. He makes bad choices because it’s ingrained in him from his parents. I want to give him a hug. It’s the first time I’ve actually seen him give a real shit about something in his life. But I don’t. I tell him if he needs anything to let me know butotherwise that’s it. And I leave.
The fresh air hits my face and the enormity of everything hits with it. I can feel every emotion all at once racing around my body. But the biggest emotion of all is relief. I can start to build myself back up, the person I am truly meant to be, without the influence of making others happy. I can disappear from this world for the elite and breathe again. For the first time in weeks, I feel genuine happiness. Which is strange for someone who has just found out their fiancé has been banging the city bike.
I grab a taxi from outside and direct it to my parents. It doesn’t take long to get there which doesn’t give me the time to really prepare myself for what I’m going to tell them, but part of me hopes they’ll have a little bit of pity for me, enough to let me stay for a few days and not talk to me about it.
I grab my bag out of the boot and walk up the stone steps to my parents’ Georgian townhouse. They moved here after I had left for Oxford. Five bedrooms and six bathrooms, for two people? That’s why London has a housing crisis. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it very much feels like a statement rather than somewhere just to live.
I knock on the door, and I am greeted by Phoebe, the housekeeper. We’ve always had housekeepers and au pairs, but I’ve always felt odd about someone doing something for me. So, Phoebe probably feels relieved that her workload is about to be halved knowing I’ll be helping around the house while staying there.
“Miss Montgomery.” She looks surprised to see me when it’s not Christmas Day or someone’s birthday. “We weren’t expecting you today.”
“Please call me Harri, Phoebe. Miss Montgomery is just too weird.” I shudder at the thought of being Miss Montgomery to someone and walk past her making sure to carry my own bags.
“Sorry, Harri, it’s habit.” She smiles, and her little plumpcheeks smile with her.
“Where are my parents?” I ask, taking off my coat and hanging it on the coat rack past Phoebe’s arms where she is waiting to do that for me.
“Your mother is taking a Pilates class in the drawing room, and I believe your father is at the office.”
“Thanks, Phoebe.” I smile and head towards the drawing room.
I walk through the oak-floored corridor until I reach the drawing room. Its mahogany bookcase walls and William Morris wallpaper make it look very cosy. Odd for a Pilates lesson but she’s having the living room redone so must have settled for in there. My mother is there, in her black leotard doing Pilates on a mat. Her instructor is younger than me. She only hired him because he is young, Latino and, as she puts it, “something nice to look at”. I stand in the doorway until she notices my presence.
“Harriet, what are you doing here? I’m in the middle of this lesson, darling. Why don’t you get Phoebe to make you a drink and you can wait for me in the garden room?”
