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‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
I want to fist my hands in her hair and kiss her pink lips, but there’s so much passing between us. Such a mess. I have no idea whether she’s single or married. I have no idea whether she still even wants to be friends. I pray she wants something more.
One thing I do know: I love her just as much now as I did yesterday.
Becky orders a martini, and I get another scotch. Then it’s just us, with no distractions.
‘So…’ is all I can think to say. When I really want to scream,Tell me, goddamn it! Tell me you’re not with him. Tell me it wasn’t all a lie! Tell me you love me.
She sucks in a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Drew. I should have told you about Mike.’
‘You should have.’ My words are abrupt.
She nods. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’
I snort.You fucking ripped me apart.
‘Please, don’t be like that. I’m… I’m so pleased you came here. I didn’t expect you to, but I hoped you would.’
I swirl the scotch in my glass. ‘Why?’
‘Because there are things you need to know, and there are things I had to come here to fix before I could be truly honest with you.’
I don’t know whether she expects me to talk, but when I don’t, she sucks in another breath and continues.
‘I ran from London. I ran from Mike.’
My pulse judders. Perhaps my heart stops. She ran from him.
‘Edmond got me straight out of London. He arranged the job in New York for me.’ Her eyes cast down to her delicate fingers in her lap. ‘Mike wasn’t good to me, Drew.’
He hurt her? Someone dared to hurt her?
I feel rage building inside me. Her eyes fill with unfallen tears and I can’t stay away from her any longer. I reach out and take her hand from her lap, locking her fingers between mine.
‘Don’t shut down on me, Becky. Talk to me.’
‘I once told you we ended over babies. Well, that was kind of true.’ She takes a large mouthful of martini and presses her eyes shut, opening them before she continues. ‘We got together when I was a teenager. I had a horrible home life. Nothing like yours. My dad died when I was young. I don’t even remember him. And the others, my mum and her multitude of boyfriends, they really couldn’t have cared less about me. Mike was older than me. He was stronger. And I thought he was something I needed. Someone to look after me. We moved in to his place fairly quickly, and everything started to go wrong.’
A tear rolls down her cheek. She swiftly swipes it away as if I might not have seen it. I squeeze her hand tighter, not sure if I can bear to see her hurting.
‘I didn’t notice at first. It was just small things. He would tell me not to go places, not to see people or do things. Then he’d tell me how to dress. Tell me…’ She clears her throat and stares into her half-empty glass. ‘He’d tell me I was ugly. Or too fat.’ She laughs but it’s not an amused laugh at all. It’s a somber sound. ‘I was a UK size eight. I mean, Christ, what size did he want me to be?’
‘You’re beautiful, Becky. More than beautiful.’
At my words, another tear rolls down her cheek. I rub it away with the pad of my thumb.
‘I just became this shell. He didn’t save me like I thought. He caged me. And I was… intimidated by him. Scared, even. He had never actually hit me, only threatened it, but I was afraid of the possibility, I guess. And I was young. I had nowhere else to go. I lost the few friends I had. My family… Well, that wasn’t a good option. I was alone. I was lost. I didn’t know what to do and I had no one to talk to. Somewhere along the line, I agreed to marry him.’ She shakes her head. ‘You must think I sound pathetic.’
I gently place my knuckle under her chin and make her look at me.
‘You have no idea what I’m thinking. It definitely isn’t that.’
I’m thinking I would like to get my hands on this guy and beat him to a pulp.
She drops her gaze to our hands in her lap and rolls her fingertips over my knuckles.
