AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My mouth opens but the word sticks to my lips. Say it. Get it over with. “No,” I let out with a breath that, just for a second, feels like it could be my last. I can’t, I want to add, but my mouth won’t work. I can’t because I’m needed here. I can’t because it’s too hard. I can’t because I’m exhausted. Worn out from playing the man I’m expected to be, from trying to be who I’m supposed to be, from simply…being.
His inhale shakes in my ear. “You chose her,” he says, voice low, barely there.
I don’t know what to say, because he’s right. I am choosing Becca. I’m choosing my family. We’ve established a foundation on which we can start to build a new way of life together. A point where we can begin to heal. And it’s so new. The wounds are too fresh. I can’t risk bulldozing such fragile framework by rewarding myself with happiness while Becca mourns alone.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I don’t think I’ll ever know how I manage to speak those words without breaking down completely. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. “Goodbye, Laurence.”
I hang up immediately, knowing if I hear another syllable in his voice I will never recover. My phone drops to the floor somewhere next to the beanbag, though my eyes are too blurred with tears to see where it lands exactly. I did the right thing, deceiving him the way I did. It will be easier for him to accept that way, if he thinks I’m a coward. I’d rather him be angry with me. Hateful, even. I don’t want him to feel like this. Like I’m feeling as my body hunches over itself, pain devastating my muscles, making my bones feel like they’re being blown apart from the inside.
Is this what love is? Physical, engulfing pain. Because, fuck, do I feel it now. Every goddamn inch of it. My skin burns with a fire only Laurence’s hands can put out. My head pounds with an ache only his voice can soothe. And my heart…my heart just fucking hurts. It hurts and I fear it will never stop.
Because I love him.
I’m in love with him.
But we’re two decades too late.
Chapter Nineteen
Rebecca
One month later…
Thank God for the invention of Uber. I’ve never been so grateful for the opportunity to climb straight out of the back of a taxi without needing to make eye-contact with the driver while handing over my fare.
“But it does stink,” Lucy repeats as we approach the front door, as if that justifies her need to announce how smelly my leg is in front of the complete stranger driving us home from the hospital.
I turn my key in the lock, let us in the house. “He didn’t need to know that though, did he. I’m surprised you didn’t haul my bloody ankle in the air and ask if he wanted to take a whiff.”
“Tad dramatic, Mum. And you say you wonder where I get it from.” Chuckling, Lucy helps me over the step before closing the door behind us. “Does it feel good to get the cast off?”
I attempt to shrug, which is rather difficult as I hobble along with one arm linked to my daughter and the other using a crutch. “Not as good as I thought. It’s quite stiff.”
“And smelly.”
I roll my eyes, even though she’s right. “Yes, Lucy, I get it. I stink. I’m going for a shower as soon as I’ve put the braising steak in the oven for tonight’s tea.”
“I can do that,” she offers, making sure I’m steady before releasing my arm.
It probably makes me a terrible mother, but I can’t keep the grimace off my face.
Lucy tuts, pouts a little. “I’ve watched you make it a thousand times. Steak, onion, carrots, salt, pepper, Oxo cubes.”
I feel my eyebrows waggle, impressed. “Okay,” I agree, silently hoping I don’t regret it. The price of steak is ridiculous these days. “In that case, thank you.”
I turn for the door, head to the stairs.
“Do you need help?” Lucy’s hand lands on my arm. “You seem to be struggling more than when you had the cast on, which is weird.”
“I’m just readjusting. I’ll be fine,” I assure her.
She doesn’t look convinced, and I hate it. Our roles aren’t supposed to be reversed in this way. She shouldn’t be worrying about me. “You’re probably tired, too. You were late coming home last night.”
I pull a face. “Sorry, Mother. Won’t happen again.”
Lucy tuts, laughs a little. “I just want you to get better.”
Oh, I love her. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you for looking out for me.” I stroke her cheek, kiss her forehead. “But you should know by now what it’s like when Gill and I get together. Too much wine. Too much yapping.” Something flips over in my belly as I lie to her. Unfortunately, I’m familiar with the art of disregarding such a feeling, and that’s what I do. I do it under the silent vow that this isn’t another secret, of which our family have kept too many, but rather…suspended information. I will tell her, eventually.
