My teeth clench uncomfortably, but I don’t let him see my anger. Instead, I focus on neatly folding Tilly’s favourite blanket.
“I mean, you might like big girls, and who am I to judge? I just don’t want her to be a whale when she finally sees sense and comes back, you know?”
There’s no way I’m ever letting that happen. Even if Tilly doesn’t want to be with me, I’ll do anything,everything, to stop her from getting tangled in his web again.
I’m just about to box up her laptop when Meathead opens his mouth again.Does this man have an off-switch?
“I do have to apologise to you though, mate.”
Well, this is unexpected. I keep packing but glance over at him to let him know I’m listening.
“That night, when me and Tilly came by the restaurant. I knew you worked there, and I took her there on purpose to rub it in your face.”
My heart rate picks up speed, and I will it to settle. Of course I knew he’d done it on purpose to show me he’d won, but hearing him confirm it makes my blood boil.
Rhys steps closer to me, lowering his voice like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear what he has to say next. “But me finger-fucking her under the table when you were talking to us? That was all her. Before you came out, she begged like a fucking whore…”
“Shut up,” I warn him. I clench my fists, willing myself to keep calm, but every word out of his mouth makes it harder. There’s only so much I can ignore, and my tolerance has run out. “You don’t get to talk about her anymore.”
“She’smy wife!”
“You lost the right to call her that when you started sleeping with other women!” I yell. My restraint has completely snapped.
“You’d sleep with other women too if your wife was a worthless piece of…” He trails off, seeing the fury building in my eyes, but it’s too late. I’m past the point of holding back.
My fist flies, almost of its own accord, and slams into Rhys’s jaw. There’s a sickening but satisfying crack as his head jerks to the side and he stumbles back.
But the satisfaction only lasts a moment before the regret sets in. He baited me and I let him. I’ve made everything worse for Tilly.
We stare at each other, the side of his face already beginning to swell, a small trickle of blood dripping from his lip. I fucked up. And if he hits me back, I’ll take it. I’d deserve it.
Rhys’ hand twitches, and I brace myself for his attack, but it doesn’t come. What happens is worse.
He smirks, a look of triumph in his eyes. It’s only there for a second, but it’s definitely there. “You’re not worth it,” he sneers, and storms out of his own house, slamming the door behind him.
I’m left standing in his house, still clutching Tilly’s blanket in one hand, my breathing heavy and laboured. My heart slows as the adrenaline begins to settle and the full impact of what I’ve done takes hold. He deserved what he got, no mistake. I just hope there are no repercussions for Tilly.
I give myself ten seconds to recover, then get back to packing. I take her clothes, carefully folding them so they don’t get creased; her toiletries; an unused scented candle from her bedside table.
Once everything is bundled into my car, I take one last look around the prison Tilly spent so many years calling home. She’s free now, I remind myself, and shut the door behind me.
Chapter 27
I think you’re perfect
Connor is gone when I wake up. And although I miss his comforting warmth, I’m glad he’s not here to see me. I’ve been in a deep sleep for what feels like days but was only a couple of hours. Still, I feel better for it.
I take the opportunity of being alone to get up and have a shower. I need to feel human again before I start dealing with the mess that is my life. The shampoo stings as I wash the blood out of my hair, but I keep scrubbing anyway. No pain, no gain, right? I use Connor’s body wash to cleanse away the last twenty-four hours, and step out of the shower feeling much better.
It’s only then that I realise I don’t have any clean clothes to put on, so my options are re-wearing my smelly, blood-stained outfit from yesterday or borrowing something of Connor’s. I stand in his bedroom, wearing a towel, trying to make a decision. I once borrowed one of Rhys’s hoodies when it was cold, and he went mad, thinking I’d stretched it out. Maybe Connor would think the same way? But putting on those disgusting clothesagain would be a reminder of Rhys that I don’t need.
I decide I’d rather risk Connor being annoyed with me than spend any more time in my manky leggings, so I look through his drawers and find some soft joggers and a blue T-shirt. I pull them on, despite not having any clean underwear to wear, and throw on a worn hoodie that’s hanging on the back of his door. The trousers are comically long and have to be turned up, which I expected, but I’m surprised when I have to pull the drawstring at the waist tight to keep them up. I leave the hoodie open, as it’s a warm evening, but pull the sleeves down low over my hands.
When I go downstairs and find that Connor still isn’t back, I start to worry, so I take my phone out of my pocket to call him. When I tap in my passcode, I see an open message thread on my screen from Rhys. Strange, I don’t remember opening it. Maybe I opened it when I was half asleep? Or maybe…?
I scan quickly through the messages, and my stomach turns to lead.
RHYS
