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“I won’t.”
LESS THAN TEN minutes later I’m pulling up outside the Hamiltons’ house. The iron gates open when the cameras recognise my registration plate. I climb out of the car and rap on the front door. Connie knows it’s me; an alarm bleeps inside the house whenever visitors arrive. She chooses to ignore me.
I knock again. “Connie, come on, let me talk to you.”
I thump three times, each louder than the one before. “Connie, please. I know you’re in there.”
She either throws something or bangs herself against the back of the door. “Go away, Clark. You’re an arsehole.”
She’s talking. It’s a start. I lean forwards, bracing both palms on the door. “I know I’m an arsehole. Let me in. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
The door flies open, and I stumble into the hallway. I save myself from falling and shift so I’m looking at her, standing by the open door. Her eyes are red and swollen, her hair is scraped back in a ponytail, and her already oversized jumper is drowning her. Feeling crushed, I let my arms sag by my sides.
“Connie,” I whisper. Her lips twist and her eyes glaze. I don’t know what else to say, so I take two steps towards her and fold her under one arm as I push the door shut with the other. She fights against me, pushing me away, thumping my pecs.
“I’m not okay, Clark. I’m humiliated.”
I hold her head to my chest until she relents, and her anger turns to sobs. “Shhh. You shouldn’t be humiliated, you did nothing wrong. It’s me who should be ashamed.”
I walk us into the lounge and settle her onto the sofa while I make tea. I return to see her tucked into the corner of the sofa: small, fragile. I am ashamed of myself.
“It’s Earl Grey,” I say, handing her a drink, which she grabs with two hands. I take a seat on the coffee table facing her and rest a hand on her knee. She flinches but doesn’t move her leg from my reach.
“I went to a birthday party yesterday,” she says, her words weak and cautious. “It was Anna Leonard’s birthday. Dayna Cross’s stepsister.”
I try not to respond, but I know my eyes flicker with interest. “That’s good, that you went out.”
She shakes her head then takes a gulp of hot tea. It’s a trait of hers, guzzling boiling hot drinks. She has a mouth like asbestos. We’d go to cafés together, just a couple of weeks ago, and she’d have finished her coffee before I’d even managed to take the first mouthful of mine.
“Dayna was there.”
I open and close my mouth silently, wanting to know more, knowing I can’t ask.
“I mentioned you to her, that you talked about her sometimes, that you talked about her on Friday, before… She said there was nothing going on between you.”
“That’s true. Dayna really can’t stand me.” I hide how much I hate that truth.
“But there was this look in her eyes. Something I can’t quite describe.” She stands and walks to the bay window looking out across the lawn, still clutching her cup. “You told me you gave your heart away, Clark. Is that who you gave it to? Is she that much better than me?”
I put down my cup and move to stand behind her, trailing my fingertips down her arm. “Connie, you are amazing. You’re beautiful, smart and sweet. This isn’t about anyone being better than you. I’ve loved you for years, as a friend, as a sister.” She leans back into my chest. “Somewhere along the line that got muddled, but I realised last week — too late, I know — that you could have everything. Someone who loves you as a best friend and as a lover, and that person isn’t me. You deserve everything.”
Out of habit I drop my chin to the crook of her neck. She leans her head back, giving me access to her throat, and she moans when my lips meet her skin. She turns quickly and holds my cheeks in her palms, her mouth taking mine fiercely. I kiss her back, parting her lips with my tongue, relishing the familiar taste of Earl Grey. In the last few days, I’ve missed having someone who gives a shit. Someone who knows me. She moans and bends her body into mine. I can feel my cock harden and push against the barrier of my jeans.
This is fucking selfish.
“Connie, stop. This isn’t right. This isn’t why I came.” I grip her wrists and push her back from me. The look of pain and rejection on her face floors me.
“Did you ever want me?”
“Jesus, Connie, yes. Who wouldn’t want you?”
“Then why?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Because it’s not enough. I don’t want to marry you and realise five years from now that we’re not right for each other. That you need more than I can give you.” I put some distance between us. “I don’t want to have kids and have them growing up messed up because their parents aren’t in love with each other. I don’t want you to divorce me ten years from now and have to find someone else then.”
She snarls at me, a look I’ve rarely seen on her. “Such a fucking martyr.”
“Connie, please, I’m trying to explain.”
