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I click again, and there’s Alex and the girl. This time I can’t bring myself to look at it. I know it intimately, anyway, as I’ve seen it a million times in my head. I could close my eyes and describe the exact position of his hands. The curl to his lip as he grins at her, the way she clings on to his neck.
“You saw this one?” he asks softly.
“Yes.” I can’t look at him. Instead I grab my wine glass and drain it in one gulp.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“That’s what all the guys say.”
There’s a clink as he puts down
his wineglass. Then his hands are on my wrists, pulling me towards him. “It isn’t, Lara. I promise you. I don’t even remember it being taken.”
“Do you remember her sitting on your lap?” My voice is hoarse. I pull away, not wanting to feel him touching me. It’s making it hard for me to breathe.
“No.”
I take a deep breath, finally looking up at him. “Who is she?”
“I’ve no fucking idea. Listen, Lara, I promise you this is only a shitty picture. I haven’t done anything wrong.” He takes hold of my chin, lifting my face up so I’m looking at him. But I can’t stand it, and twist my head away, closing my eyes.
“You let some random woman sit on your lap.”
“It must have been for a millisecond. No more than that. I’d never do something to hurt you.”
“But you did. You did hurt me.”
Agitated, he starts to pace. “Listen, you can blame me for the smoking, you can blame me for not sorting out my fucking phone. Hell, you can blame me for not getting to the hospital fast enough. But not this. I’d never cheat on you, you know that.”
It’s true. I nod my head. “I do.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
“Because it’s the straw that broke the camel’s back,” I tell him. “After everything else, I had to see that. And it doesn’t make me feel any better when you tell me you don’t even remember it, because it just about broke my heart.”
“But I didn’t do anything.” He sounds hurt. When I finally bring myself to look at him, Alex is standing in front of me, staring down. “You’re not being fair.”
By this point, I’m not even sure what is fair anymore. Even though I hoped this would make me feel better, showing him the picture has only inflamed the situation.
“You were so trashed you can’t even remember a girl sitting on your lap.” I lean back against the counter, putting space between us. “That sort of makes it worse. How do I know I can trust you?”
“Because I’ve been in love with you for the past seven years and I’d never do anything to endanger that.” His voice is firm, almost angry. “To suggest otherwise is pretty fucking insulting.”
“But if you don’t remember what you did…” My voice trails off.
“I could be comatose and I wouldn’t do that. Jesus, Lara.”
“But how do you know?” I persist. Because I need to hear this. I need to know that nothing happened.
He’s glaring at me, and I’m glaring right back. Neither of us moves; the only sound in the room is our heavy breath and the ticking of the kitchen clock. I curl my fingers around the edge of the counter, trying to ground myself, to cling on. My heart beats in time to the second hand and I wait, wondering what’s next.
“You really think I’d cheat on you?” he finally asks. The hurt expression hasn’t left his face.
“No.” My reply is as soft as his. “But I do think it shows you weren’t thinking of me at all. How would you feel if the tables were turned?”
His eyes flash with anger. “Murderous.”
“Then you know how I feel. It’s another symptom, like the weed and the phone.”
