Rodeo (BBW Cowboy Romance) (BBW Western Romance) (7 page)

I beckoned one of the drinks waiters over to take their order and John was instantaneously by my side. “Don't fill this lot with drinks, they're important investors and I don't want them getting pissed and demanding Karaoke at midnight.”

Looking side wards at John I was amused by his colorful choice of demand.  “If you want your cash cows babysat then
you
need to make sure they're abstaining from the booze John, I don't know what's come over you recently but please remember I am not the hired help.”

I left his side and returned to the house.  How dare he speak to me like that, it was bad enough that John barely acknowledged me but to treat me further like some kind of skivvy, personal assistant was over the top in my opinion.  There was always a way of saying things, it wasn't what you said it was the way in which you said it and John clearly needed to attend a course in diplomacy.  I was mad and I needed to calm down, thankfully our next guests were mutual friends who were only too aware of John's clinical behavior.  Welcoming them with extended arms and an air of relief I directed them into the garden where I intended to sit and spend some time with them.

As I walked out onto the patio John was beckoning me over, I tried to pretend I hadn't seen him but he was now making a beeline for me.  “Eva, come and meet Harold Carter, I've been telling him all about you.”

This was a slight turn up for the books, John was usually so dismissive of her presence and so, seemingly a change in his attitude was one I welcomed rather than rebuffed, it would be interesting at least to discover the capacity in which he spoke about me.  Unfortunately, my optimistic aspirations were blowing in the wind.

Harold Carter was a little like Santa Claus.  Harold was large in build but immediately welcoming in personality, he greeted me with a warm smile and a friendly, firm handshake.  It felt instantly that we clicked, almost like we'd known each other for years. 

“I've heard so much about you Eva, lovely to meet you at last,” his hand was still resting upon mine as well as his eyes remaining in contact.

I wish I could have said the same back to Harold, I'd neither heard about him nor seen him before, ever the diplomat though, I refrained from explaining my absence of knowledge.

“Nice to meet you too Harold and I'm presuming your pleasure in meeting me is as a result of good things being said about me ...”  it wasn't really a question, more of an off the cuff remark but then Harold didn't stop there.

“John has told me all the good and all the bad and to be fair, I think he's a very lucky man, contrary to what he has other people believe. I'd be hard pushed to find a woman who stands by her man the way you do, and you find the time to work as well?”

The word 'working' jolted me, “I wouldn't call running a business just 'working', Harold, but I agree, John is very lucky indeed to have a woman like me in his life.” 

Inwardly I was seething, it was quite clear that John had played down my career and Harold had the impression that I was some kind of employee who worked for pocket money on the side whilst at the beck and call of her husband.  I decided on impulse that it was probably better for myself, the other guests and more importantly John for me to leave the scene temporarily. 

Down at the very bottom of the garden we had a summer house, casually I retreated to its secluded sanctuary.  For the first time in my short marriage, I wanted, needed to be alone.  As pragmatic as I was in business I felt the need for solitude, to work things out; I never allowed my heart to rule business decisions and rarely felt the need to treat my personal relationship with a business attitude but right then, learning how John spoke about me, the way he had recently been treating me, and my basic instincts, were screaming out for me to think hard.

I closed the door to the summer house and sat myself down on the cold, hard bench.  It hit me, I was alone; I felt it and I was it. No stranger to having to fight for things I
realized that every resource of survival, necessity and ambition was dripping away from my persona and if I wasn't careful I would become a former shadow of myself, I doubted all kinds of things, including myself.  Furthermore I was allowing this to happen and I was permitting a man to do so, I was used to functioning in a man's world and I hit back with hardest of punches, this time, and perhaps for longer than I cared to admit, my punch was waning.

It was time for change.

I'd reached a turning point.

I waited for the final guests to leave; I wasn't prepared to make any kind of scene whilst they were at the party and certainly had no intention of making a scene after they'd left so I had to pick my moment carefully.  Unfortunately Miguel was full of beans once the party was over because, despite my inner feelings and conclusive decision, I'd remained in control of myself and provided the perfect environment for our unsuspecting visitors.  I was also very aware that John was completely oblivious to how I felt and until we had time to talk, where both of us were happy to communicate, we needed to continue as the perfect hosts.

As John waved off the Japanese investors, he closed the door behind him and smiled back at me.  For one split second I questioned whether I'd got it all wrong; perhaps it was a stress thing, was it possible that now it was all over he would revert back to the husband I married?  I decided to test the water.

“Well, that was a success.  Fancy a drink in the conservatory?” 

I hoped within that my question had sounded confident enough to not even sound like a suggestion, more of a course of action but nevertheless, John agreed.  Ten minutes later we were both sat,
feet up, glass of wine in our hands, silently mulling over the day's events.  I was even more delighted when Miguel turned up in the doorway, his intention to join us, was met by John asking for some time alone as he wanted to spend some time with his wife.  I smiled, winked at Miguel who in turn poked his tongue out in John's direction and turned on his heel and left.  At last, we were alone in our house.

It was possibly a slight paranoia on my part but I'd reached a point where I actually didn't dare say anything, I was pleased that we were spending some time together and regardless of my own uncertainty, there was very little tension between us, John seemed content to be sitting there, relaxing with a drink and what's more, he was happy in my company.  He broke the ice of comfortable silence.

“Harold seemed quite taken with you; spoke glowingly about you in fact.”

“Did he? He seemed to be quite impressed that I was such a rock for you and I managed to find time to
work
as well?  I got the impression he was clueless as to what I did for a living?”

John shifted uncomfortably in his chair for a moment, “Yes, well, I did play down your work to be honest, it wasn't really about 'you' today, he was here to see how I operated in business, not how you solved a few problems at the local bank.”

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard, in fact I was about to ask John to repeat what he'd just said but what was the point?  I knew damn well what he'd said and I resented it immediately. 

“Harold's wife? What does she do John, how would you describe her to me?”  I tried to refrain from spitting any unnecessary venom in his direction which was extremely hard considering the anger that had suddenly started to bubble inside me.

John seemed to be unaware of my wrath, “Harold's wife is a stay at home Mum, they've got three kids and when she's not running around after them she's running around in the gym keeping herself tidy … I actually asked Harold tonight to ask Lucy, that's his wife, to pick up an application form for you, perhaps you could go with her and get yourself fit, it's always easier when you've got someone else to motivate you.”

That was the final biscuit.

“So you think I'm fat now as well as unworthy of praising my career?” 

I placed my glass down on the table beside me. I didn't trust myself not to throw it and its contents all over my sanctimonious, ill-mannered husband.  John showed no shift in his statement, it may have dawned on some that the comment was a tad untactful but not John; he seemed almost cheerful with his declaration. 

“Well … you can't say that you're traditionally slim now can you, Eva?”

I rose from my chair and it was only then that John appeared conscious of my reaction.  “I, John Cain am exactly the same size as when you met me, married me and vowed to love me regardless of anything else.  I am not fat, and thank God I'm not as you say, 'traditionally slim' … I am a size fourteen which is average … I am healthy, fit and from what I can make out right at this moment, the only extra baggage I could do with losing is you!”

I left the conservatory, climbed the stairs to my room and began to pack my bag.  I needed a break, it was time to go home for a while and re-collect my thoughts and future plans. If John was to be in those plans then things needed to change dramatically, but if he wasn't, then so be it.  Once again, in as many weeks, I spent the night alone in our bed, John chose to sleep in his study, and this time I was grateful of his choice of bed rest.

The moment I awoke the next day my stomach lunged into despair, how had things come to this point?  I lay still for a moment, trying to fathom out where it had all gone wrong, I hadn't cheated on him, stolen from him or given him cause to doubt my loyalty to him, I was a good wife, I ran a good home, saw to his every needs and financially I was independent from him therefore never having to ask him for monetary hand outs.  I'd known from the start that his heart and soul were business and money orientated but always thought there was room in there for me too, how wrong could I have been?  I was John's first wife so I had no comparison to liken our breakdown to, he'd almost got engaged once but had told me that she'd betrayed his trust on a business deal.  Our business lives were very separate so there was no chance of that happening, it just seemed to me that John lived, breathed and absorbed business only; a wife was something of a social expectancy. 

My emotions were so up and down, a part of me wanted it all to be sorted out, a big misunderstanding on John's part.  Another part of me wished it was a storm in a teacup and tomorrow it would all blow over and then a bigger part of me just wanted to get my things and run out of there as fast as I could.  The empty bed seemed so huge in comparison to John filling his side and sensing his presence throughout the night or him getting up before me in the morning, I missed being able to reach over and wrap my arms around his middle for him then to snuggle into my arched body.  I ached for him, physically as well as mentally.  I had to try to solve this, this was what I was supposedly good at for God's sake, it was time to take some action, if it was meant to be then it was meant to be but I couldn't leave him without trying.

I decided a letter would be the best course of action, sometimes when you try to speak with someone you get interrupted or you say it in the wrong manner, by writing it down and having the recipient take the time to read it you can express yourself without it then turning into an argument.  The last thing I wanted to do was argue with John, I didn't want to piss him off either, the egg shells I was treading on were becoming more fragile and he was losing patience with the whole thing.  I wrote my letter and left it in his study.

Two whole days past and I received no acknowledgement to my letter or no answer, in fact, I was receiving no communication from John whatsoever so when I knocked on his study door and found it empty I was puzzled as to where he was, then I noticed a note on his desk.  This was I realized my response to my letter, had it been there since I'd written mine, why had he just answered and then disappeared?

I picked up the paper from the table, it read; “I cannot and will not deal with this right now, need space.”  There was no 'Dear Eva' and no 'Love John' … a stark sentence coldly written on a white sheet of paper.  My heart sank.

I'll be honest, I wanted to smash his pristine little den into a million pieces, I wanted to be face to face with him and scream questions and accusations at him but what would have been the point in that?  John was the controller in all of this, what he wanted, he got and what he didn't want he treated like trash.  It didn't matter that in business I was used to deciphering difficulties, this was my personal life and I didn't have a damn clue how to fix it, I wasn't even certain whether John wanted me to fix it.  A thousand things ran through my head, was he having an affair, had I said something hurtful to him that he felt he couldn't forgive me for, I even considered that he may be having financial problems and that this was the cause for his strange, erratic behavior, what was the issue?

I rang his mobile and it connected then the call was dumped, this confirmed my worries, he was now cutting himself off from my contact, he didn't want to communicate and all women know, when this happens, it means trouble. For the time being I had to accept that this was John's call and until he was ready to come forth and address whatever it was, I was a slave to his rhythm.

A further week went by and I'd still heard nothing, it was hard, almost crucifying me but I stopped myself from attempting to contact him, on the one hand I didn't want him to think I'd given up on him but on the other hand I didn't want to bug him, I allowed him his space and waited for him to come to his senses.  Miguel was an absolute rock at this time, he listened, advised and kept as impartial as was possible, there were times when he verbalized that he would quite like to kick him right in his ass, which I would have allowed but we both knew that it would be fruitless so we sat back and played the waiting game.

Three days later I received an email.

“Eva … I know this must be difficult for you, believe me I'm not enjoying any of this either.  I think we should talk, I know it has taken time and for the space you've given I'm thankful, I appreciate your patience but I'm ready to talk. John.”

I wasn't particularly over-enthused by the lack of compassion in his writing but it gave me a little hope in the fact that if nothing else, I was about to find out what was going on in his head.  We arranged to meet in a cafe lounge on the corner from where we worked.

Seeing John for the first time in two weeks gave me a slight surprise, he looked beaten.  Usually such a spark in his eyes and a swagger in his step, he walked through the cafe doors with very little presence at all, taking a seat in the booth opposite me, he ordered a coffee, asked if I wanted another one and removed his coat.

I wasn't sure who should start the conversation and if it was to be me, what my first words would be.  I tried all the same.

“How are you?”

“I'm ok, bit tired, confused and fed up of my own company but overall, okay,” he smoothed down his coat, folded it neatly and placed it in the corner of the booth, “and you?”

At least he'd asked which was a bonus, I assumed.  “I've been better John but I suppose once this conversation is over I'll know which direction I'm heading, which has been the hardest thing over the last two weeks.”

“Yes, I know, I'm sorry … I've not been exactly fair on you,” the waitress brought over his coffee and left us to iron out of difficulties. 

I half expected John to go silent and for it to become an unknown entity, however he continued and I listened.

“I can't do this anymore.  I don't have any feelings for you.” he placed his hand on his heart and waved it away as if implying his feelings had flown away.  “It's just not the same any more, I know you probably think I'm being callous and my emotions have just switched off and you'd be right, I don't know what it is, they just aren't there any more … I'm sorry.”

I was numb.  I suppose half of me expected his decision to be against my favor but I hadn't expected him to come out with that, I wanted answers.  “Did something happen for you to realize this?  We haven't had any kind of big bust-up, we actually get on well … what made your feelings change all of a sudden?  We loved each other so much at one time ...”

“That's just it,” he said calmly, “I loved it when we were so in love but recently it's just become so … stale, we've fallen into a dull routine and I can't see you the way I used to see you, there's no flutter of excitement any more, no rush of passion, I don't desire you.”

Sighing deeply I was exasperated by what I'd just heard, “John, a relationship never continues with the first throes of passion, there's always a honeymoon period but when that passes there comes a growth of togetherness that outweighs the lust and desire to jump on each other all the time, it develops into a comfortable partnership with trust, respect and love.”

I watched as John stared wistfully into his coffee cup, “Exactly Eva, I don't really want that, I like the passion and excitement, all the other stuff bores me, I haven't got time for it, I'm a busy man and I don't need to extra hassle of having to invest more of me into what comes natural in the first stages of being together, call me a fantasist if you like ...”