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PROLOGUE
Avery
One month ago…
Sadness engulfsme as I stare at the name flashing up from my phone screen. His name no longer brings me happiness or excitement, just the bitter realisation that I'm living a life I no longer love. It takes me a few seconds to gather myself, fold my hurt away, and clear my mind of the despondent fog clouding it. Sucking in a deep breath and gaining my composure, I lift my phone to my ear.
“Hey,” I answer on the second ring, clutching the phone between my ear and shoulder, so I can use my free hands to zip my gym top up and then shift my bag higher.As soon as I finished my shift at the café, I hit the gym. I know I’m only prolonging the inevitable. Going home each night is becoming more and more unappealing.
“I need a favour,” Simon, my boyfriend, says. No pleasantries. Nothing.
I grit my teeth and swallow the same sigh I’ve been expelling for the last few months. I don't quite know when it happened, but Simon and I began walking different paths. Sometimes we bump into one another along the way as we navigate our way towards a future that I fear has nothing to do with each other. Simon is adamant we should work on our relationship as we’ve been together since we were in our teens, and I’m choosing to give him the benefit of doubt. I’m not sure why. I don't think I love him anymore. Or that I even did, not in the way I believe people should love one another. Whenever I think of my future, it doesn’t include him. At least not anymore and that should scare me, but somehow, it doesn’t.
Biting my lip, I kick the tip of my shoe against the floor.
“I had a great day, thanks,” I mutter. If this is his idea of trying, he is doing a terrible job.
I hear his sigh before his tired voice filters down the line.
“Yeah. Shit, sorry. You okay?” This is so unhealthy; I’m beginning to resent him, when really, I should pack my things and walk away. A lot will change, home, finances, and friendships. It’s not an easy transition, but staying is as draining as the workout I just did.
“Yes, I just left the gym. You?” I wrap my arm around my waist, hoping he will take an interest in my life, even if it is to ask about the gym. We share a home, have shared a bed since we were teenagers and the only time Simon wants to know anything about me is when he coerces me into a situation that benefits him.
“Yeah. Do you still have my spare office keys? I need you to swing by the office.”
I pull the phone away and stare down at it, feeling disappointed.
“Avery?”
“What, now? Marian will be there, she will want to discuss her budgie and I hate those biscuits she hands out,” I grouse. I suppose doing this job means I don't need to go home just yet. I can even grab sushi on the way.
“Please, babe. Just use the back door. It’s right by my office so she won’t even know you’re there.”
I pout, thinking it over.
“Fine,” I relent, scratching my forehead. We need to talk tonight because obviously this isn't working for me, and prolonging the inevitable is just unfair. It has eaten at me for some time, chipping away at my energy and leaving me feeling constantly exhausted, as though every cell in my body is working overtime and against me all at once. We can work out the finances and logistics as we go. Moving back in with my parents isn't something I want, but I know they will support me if I ask them.My only problem is they love Simon.
“Don’t loiter, just get in and out.” His fractured response is spoken in a rush. He swallows audibly, on edge.
“What do you need, anyway? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“It's a file. I'll send you the info. Thanks, you're a star.” Yes, one that is quickly fading under the void state of our relationship. He cuts the call, never answering my question.
He isn't okay. Frowning, I debate whether to bring it up tonight, but I don’t see the point. If we are splitting up, will my opinion really matter to him? He’s never come to me for advice before. Perhaps it’s our relationship itself causing his distance, which will make separating far easier if he has come to accept we no longer work.
Simon’s office building is across the town. If I take the tube, I can be there in no time. I slide my phone into my gym leggings and shift my bag so it is hanging across my side. It’s rush hour, so the streets are busy and the tube is packed. I manage to squish onto the train, and shudder as a man clears phlegm from his throat in my ear. Gross!
We jostle about as the train flies under the city and a few minutes later, I’m exiting onto the streets across from Simon’s building. I see Marian moving about the main reception desk. She looks to be getting her handbag, but I'm not taking any risks. If I hear about her budgie one more time, I will scream. I don’t even like birds.
I walk up the street and join a group of people at the traffic lights, my gaze continuously flicking to the entrance of Clemmins & Belk, waiting for Marian to leave. Just as I cross the road, she walks out and turns my way. I speed up, heading away from the building and take the side street that leads to the back door. Letting myself in, I close the door quietly and walk the short distance to Simon’s office. On entering, I start looking around for the file he emailed about. I take a stack of paper and sit on the chair, flicking through. Dust lining the desk floats into the air, making me cough. I drag my finger along the surface.Why is it so dusty?Frowning, I look around and note the dusty closed blinds, overfilled bin, and the wilting plant. In fact, the coffee pot is looking oily, a film of scum covering the top, suggesting no one has been in here for some time. When was Simon even last here? What the hell is going on? He has been acting a little on edge as of late.
Unease pours into my stomach.
He has been on edge as of late and I’m feeling antsy that I’m being lied to. I try to calculate how long he hasn’t been himself. He’s not sleeping great, I know that much, and how many times has he told me he’s crashing at the office, but seeing the dust and lack of life in here, I know that is a lie. I thought it was because he and Jeff, his business partner, had picked up more accounts. I’m not so sure anymore that his mood is because of our failing relationship. What is he hiding from me?
“START TALKING!” The boom of a menacing voice makes me jump in the seat. My eyes flash to the closed door. Who the hell is that?
“I don't know. I really don’t.” That voice, I do recognise.
