Spiralling Skywards: Falling (Contradictions #1) (21 page)

“You should also know that she loves Will and she won’t wanna hurt his feelings. She loves Luke and his approval matters to her, no matter what she said earlier.

“I don’t think there was a chance she was gonna ever whore around town, but having Luke looking over her shoulder while she was growing up has probably stopped her from experiencing all the things your average twenty-two-year-old should have.”

“I’m fine with that.” I told her. I liked the fact that she was so inexperienced and couldn’t wait to teach her new things. Especially since I’d had a taste of how she behaved once she really let go.

“I bet,” Sash said with a smirk. “I think Sarah’s just fundamentally a good person. A good girl.”

“I dunno about that . . .” Thinking about the way she’d come around my fingers in the shower and over my tongue in our bed.

Our
bed. It was my turn to smirk.

“Yeah, I’ll take your word for that.”

My phone buzzed and I pulled it from my pocket.

Luke:
10 minutes, fucker, then I’ll be tying your dick to the exhaust of my car and dragging that suntanned Aussie arse thru the streets back to my house. LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE.

Followed by

Luke:
NOW!!!

I waited to see if another threat would roll in, and when it didn’t, I shot off a quick text back.

Me:
Waiting for a cab, arsehole.

“Can I just pop up and check on her?”

“Nope.” Sasha exaggerated the p sound with a
pop
, as if to exaggerate the fact that I wasn’t getting anywhere near Sarah tonight.

I could’ve gone across the road and stayed at the flat, but I knew by doing so, I would just piss Luke off even more, plus, I had no clothes there for the morning. I reluctantly called a cab and went home to Luke’s. My weekend ending so differently from how it’d started.

I called in
sick the next morning. My head was banging, my eyes were puffy, and my throat was sore. I both looked and sounded terrible. I had told my boss it was the flu as I figured he wouldn’t pay me sick leave if I’d have told him I was suffering from a severe case of heartbreak.

There was a note from Sasha sitting on the kitchen worktop when I finally forced myself to get up and make coffee. All it said was for me to call her when I woke up. I took off my flip-flop and picked a piece of red glass out of it while I waited for the kettle to boil. “Sorry, Betty,” I apologised.

My poor lamp. My poor bedroom. My poor heart. All stomped on, smashed, and broken.

My phone vibrated in the pocket of my favourite Carnage hoodie I’d pulled on over the top of my pink pyjamas.

Will’s number was displayed on the screen. I didn’t need his sympathy or puppy-dog eyes this morning, so I set my phone down and proceeded to make my coffee.

A text message shortly followed.

Will:
Hey. Hope ur doin' ok after last nite? Can we meet up 2day, I really need 2 talk 2 u?

W x

“No, Will, I’m not okay, and no I don’t wanna talk,” I said aloud.

I didn’t respond because then he’d know that I’d ignored his call, instead I sat at the breakfast bar in my kitchen and stared into my coffee cup, feeling . . . what? What was I feeling exactly? Heartbroken? Was that what I was? I hadn’t ever experienced heartbreak before, so I wasn’t sure.

I was sad and wanted to cry, but I was too angry to cry any more. He’d lied to me. Not only did he have a wife but also he’d slept with her a little over a month ago.

Twice.

Once was bad enough. The heat of the moment, old passions surfacing, and the need for closure. I sort of understood that, but twice? No. The second time would have been slower, calmer, and intimate, more about want than need.

Once or twice, it didn’t matter really. Either way, he’d lied to me.

Now there was a pregnancy, and I was done. I wanted no part in his life. Yes, it hurt. Yes, my heart was broken, whatever that meant, but it would heal. My heart may never be the same, but it would mend.

Thanks to Liam, I knew that I could enjoy sex if it was with the right person. I wasn’t about to turn into a raving nympho, but I would no longer totally shut down on a man at the merest hint of a physical relationship. I’d now behave like a normal twenty-two-year-old and hopefully enjoy a happy and healthy sex life going forward.

My phone buzzed with another text, making me jump.

Liam:
Can we meet up 2day? We need 2 talk Sarah. I love you! ~Liam x

I thought about ignoring his message, I thought about calling him but I thought mostly about crying and then I realised I was. I typed out a message through my tears.

Me:
No. We can’t meet up 2day or any other day. We’re done. Plz don’t contact me again, I have nothing to say to u.

No sign off. No kiss.

Liam:
We r so far from done. If I call, will u answer? I’m in the city all day but I want to c u 2nite.

I didn’t want to play this game. He was just making things harder all round. My phone buzzed again and my stomach churned.

Liam:
Plz, Sarah. Talk 2 me.

In my head I could hear him say the words, “
Talk
to
me, pretty girl.” The thought of his accent making the beat of my broken heart pick up speed.

I couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t risk for his voice, accent, or words to slip around my heart and my head. I wouldn’t allow them to affect me and make me doubt my choices.

Was this how it was for her? Was this what my mum was up against with my dad? Did she try to resist? Did she attempt to keep away from him? What was it he said that made her allow him to keep coming back time and time again for so many years? For the first time ever in my life, I wished I had my mum to talk to. I wished that she was around so I could ask her for advice on this. I needed her to tell me how
not
to make the same mistakes she had. I needed her to guide me through the traps so I wouldn’t fall into them and end up like her.

I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t allow it.

I was stronger. I wasn’t like her.

My phone rang. I ignored it. When it finally fell silent. I switched it off and headed upstairs to try to sort out the ruination in my bedroom.

It took me two hours, one black sack, and three trips to the dustbin to empty the hoover before I was satisfied that I’d gotten rid of all the broken glass and destruction from my bedroom.

I had my earphones in and sang as I cleaned, rocking out to My Chemical Romance, The Kooks, and Amy Winehouse. I danced to David Guetta and Madonna, and I lost myself for a little while.

I found the cleaning cathartic. I channelled my hurt and anger into dancing, singing, and making my room look pristine. I changed the bedding, rearranged the furniture, and dusted and wiped down every surface. Then, when the “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” played and the lyrics hit me, I sat on the edge of my bed and cried.

I was hurt, upset, angry, and probably a little bit humiliated, but I was done. I knew that I tended to hang on to things for too long, but I was determined to let this one go.

Relationships ended every day. Couples lied to each other and cheated, it was a fact of life. My relationship with Liam had been a whirlwind, we’d had an instant attraction the moment we’d set eyes on each other. I’d been deliriously happy the whole month that we’d been together, and I knew I’d fallen just a little bit in love with him. I would be grateful that I’d gotten to experience that with him, along with the amazingly hot, mind-blowing sex . . . But he’d lied to me, and I couldn’t help feeling both angry and disappointed. I would learn from the experience and I would move on.

I walked down the stairs carrying the hoover in one hand and the black sack full of the remnants of my broken belongings in the other. I couldn’t fix my smashed lamp, photo frames, or the Royal Doulton trinket box I’d had since I was six, but I was filled with a new-found determination to fix myself.

Jo Jo’s “Too Little Too Late” played in my ears, and I even managed a smile.

“Fuck you, Liam Delaney,” I said aloud.

I blew my hair out of my face as I reached the bottom step. I was wearing it in pigtails to keep it off the back of my neck while I worked, combined with the fan girl band hoodie and my pink pyjamas with hearts and unicorns all over them, I’d managed to perfect the art of looking like a thirteen-year-old girl in three easy moves.

The doorbell rang.

“Shit,” I hissed through greeted teeth and pulled my earphones out of my ears.

The top half of our front door was semi opaque glass. I was standing at the bottom of the stairs directly opposite it, if I moved, whomever was standing on the other side would see me. I could see them, but I had no clue who it was. I watched as they turned and looked over their shoulder, and I took a step forward, attempting to escape from view but they turned back, and I froze.

The doorbell rang again. I set the hoover on the floor and swung the door open while still holding on to the black sack.

Olivia.

Because that was just the way that life liked to fuck me up the arse.

My mouth was dry, and for some strange reason, my pulse felt like it was vibrating through my lower jaw, maybe because my teeth were clamped together so tightly.

She stared. Her eyes darted from my feet, which were adorned with one lime-green sock, one Zippy from Rainbow covered sock and mismatched Havaianas: one plain back, one purple.

Her gaze lingered over my hoodie, and she blinked, three times in rapid succession, making me wonder what went through her mind in that split second. Hopefully it wasn’t Marley Layton, coz that tattooed fucker was mine, and I’d fight any bitch for him, especially that particular bitch.

She caught me off guard by speaking before she’d even made eye contact with me.

“Hey, I’m so sorry for just turning up at your door like this, but I was wondering if we could talk.”

Despite my lips being stuck to my teeth, I swallowed before responding.

“Talk?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, this is so awkward. I’m Olivia. I’m Liam’s wife. I was at your brother’s last night when you two walked in together.”

She looked down at her feet before looking back up at me, her eyes shining with tears. She swiped the back of her hand over her perfectly made up face and brushed them away before they fell. She gave a small laugh.

“I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing. Do you think I could come in?”

No. Fuck off. Fuck off and stop existing.

I stepped aside without a word and allowed her access to my home. I dumped the rubbish bag down outside the front door and took in a deep breath. When I stepped back inside, Olivia was standing to the side of me.

“Please, go through.” I gestured with my head and my hand towards the opening that lead into our open-plan living, dining, and kitchen area.

She moved, I followed.

She stopped at the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen, but I walked around the other side of it, wanting the safety of something solid between us.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek pony tail, and she was wearing a long, camel-coloured cardigan over a black dress. Her boots, handbag, and scarf matched her cardigan in colour perfectly and complemented her dark hair and eyes.

Once again she looked beautiful, while I simply didn’t.

“I know we haven’t been formally introduced, but it’s Sarah, right?”

I nodded my head, she nodded hers and licked her lips. Was she dry? Should I offer her a drink? Strychnine? Arsenic? No, she was pregnant. I was hurt, not evil.

Perhaps she was nervous. Was she? What did she have to be nervous about?

“I’m sorry about turning up like this but I was desperate. I tracked down your address via the company.”

“The company?”

I was officially confused.

“Yes. Liam and I still share a business, Luke worked for our business in Australia and you’re listed as his next of kin.”

“Is that even legal? Doesn’t that breach confidentiality laws?”

Her lips twitched with the hint of a weak smile.

“Probably, but I was desperate, Sarah.”

“Why?”

“Well, here’s the thing, I don’t know what you know about me, but I came here today wanting to find out a little bit about you.”

I stepped back and lent against the worktop, putting further distance between us.

“Me? Why do you need to know anything about me?”

I watched her as she pulled a handkerchief from her large black Chanel bag . . . I wasn’t a massive follower of up-to-the-minute fashion, I preferred retro stuff, but I knew shoes and bags and that was from this year’s winter collection.

“I’ll be totally honest with you, and in return, I hope that you’ll be honest with me.”

She licked her red stained lips without waiting on a response from me.

“I came here to win my husband back. Our marriage has had its problems, but before Liam left Australia to come here, we were dealing with them. We’d started dating again, and we’d even started spending the night together over the last few months.”

I felt like I was going to throw up. My hands and my insides shook uncontrollably. I wrapped my arms around my middle and attempted to hold myself together.

He lied. He lied so much, and I believed him. I opened myself up to him. I let him inside my heart and my body, and he lied.

“I honestly thought he and I were on the same page, working towards getting back together, but when I told him that I was pregnant, he took off. Without a word, he packed up and left me. I’ve attempted to call and email, but he ignored me.”

He knew. He knew she was pregnant before he even left Australia. I reached out and held on to the worktop. It looked like I was striking a relaxed pose when actually my legs felt like they’d just been knocked out from under me and I needed the support to stop from falling over.

“I thought that maybe he’d just panicked and needed time to get his head around the news of the baby.”