AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Love had no relevance now, anyway. Not for them.
“You will be happy, won’t you?” She stepped closer, her chest tight with urgency. “With … your next marriage? She understands you, doesn’t she? It matters, Leo. It matters for you to be…”
“Happy. That is what you think?”
She sniffed. “I think you are drunk.”
“Yes.”
“And I think you are saying things you would not say if you were sober.”
“Perhaps. But perhaps they are things I should say. I don’t drink much normally. I wanted to stop seeing you.”
“You’ve not seen me in a fortnight.”
“I see you all the time. Do you know… My life is order. Society is order. You see the stars and the planets up there?” He waved wildly at the thick clouds smothering the sky. “All in order. Until you. One kiss and my life is havoc. And that mermaid. That bloody mermaid.”
He stared at her accusingly, as one stared at the perpetrator of a crime. Then he swiped his hand over his face and spun and pressed his palm against the wall. His fingers curled as if he wished to claw out a handful of stone.
“Leo? Why are you here?”
His only response was to slap the wall. He winced.
“Did that hurt?”
“Yes.”
As if she were drunk too, she took his hand in hers. Her fingers sought out the newly abused skin and slid over his palm. She was surprised to trace the rough ghost of calluses. His palms had been smooth when they caressed her skin.
She wished to press this hand to her mouth, her cheek, her breast. She wished to tangle her fingers with his and lead him upstairs.
“If there are consequences,” he said, “you must tell me.”
“Did you come here to say that?”
“We were not careful. I meant to be careful. But I lost control.”
“We were careful enough. You have no awkward obligations looming.” Her monthly had come as usual. “You said it was a mistake,” she added. “When you were leaving, after we argued. You said it was a mistake.”
“I regret…” he started.
She did not know if he withdrew his hand or if she dropped it. “You regret… What?”
He fumbled in a pocket, found a glove.
“You regret … our night together?”
He merely shook his head.
“So you still believe it was a mistake.” Her mouth was dry, her words hoarse.
“A mistake!” He laughed, a soft, rueful sound. “Yes, I would say that. I can’t…” He looked around, as if coming out of a fugue state and realizing where he was. “I’m doing it again,” he said, as if to himself, and she had no idea what he meant. “I swore I wouldn’t, but I am.”
More fat insistent raindrops fell, slow and heavy like a funeral drum.
He would get wet. She should ask him inside. She could not ask him inside. He would have a carriage. Indecision froze her.
Then he shook his head and stumbled back away from her.
