With This Man

  I drop to the chair with a thud. ‘I know fuck all any more,’ I admit, my head finding my hands. ‘I don’t know if she’ll ever remember me, the kids, our life. I know nothing, and it’s breaking my fucking heart.’ I will myself not to cry, try so fucking hard, but that one traitorous tear drops to the table, seeming to make a bang when it lands on the cloth. My strength is waning. I’m finally crumbling for everyone to see. Kate’s next to me in a heartbeat, followed quickly by Raya on the other side. Two women rushing to comfort the big baby.

  ‘Don’t let your frustration beat you,’ Raya tells me, nudging my shoulder playfully. ‘There’s no way she could forget what you two have. Not for ever.’

  ‘Are you being over the top?’ Kate pipes in, spiking light laughter from my supposed best mates. ‘Smothering her?’

  ‘No,’ I assure her. ‘Jesus, I’m sleeping in the spare bed. I even let her wear that fucking ridiculous dress. And now she’s drinking wine when I really don’t think she should be. So you can’t tell me I’m being too suffocating.’ I leave out the rampage I went on yesterday when she went missing. They don’t need to know that bit. I sniff and grab my water, so wishing I could swap it for something stronger. A lot stronger.

  ‘She’ll get there. Keep at it,’ Sam offers on a rare smile of support.

  ‘Yeah.’ I swallow down my frustration and straighten myself out. What the fuck has got into me? Blubbering like a baby in front of friends. ‘Here she is.’ I brush at my eyes quickly as Kate and Raya return to their chairs.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Drew says. ‘We won’t tell her you’ve been crying.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ I spit. ‘I do believe you bawled once when you thought a certain blonde had fucked off to Australia and left your sadistic arse.’

  Drew shrivels on the spot, and Raya chuckles. ‘How cute.’

  I pull out Ava’s chair, and she graciously accepts, looking at me as she lowers. ‘Okay?’

  I tug her closer, and she leans in, naturally coming until my lips are pressed to her cheek. ‘I’m sorry,’ I breathe across her skin. ‘I worry, that’s all.’

  She pulls back and smiles softly, reaching for my cheek and caressing it lightly. ‘I have you with me, so I’ll be fine, right?’

  Never have those words sounded so comforting. Whether she’s saying them because she’s learning fast once again that I need to hear them is a moot point. ‘Right,’ I confirm. ‘We need to make friends. Kiss me.’

  She doesn’t question my order. And I know it’s instinct rather than her being wise or trying to pacify me. Her kiss is just a lingering peck, only light, but still. I’m swallowed whole, caught in the moment. Until a cough interrupts my bliss. Peeking across the table, I find everyone watching us. Waiting. Smiling.

  Ava starts faffing with her napkin as I return to my chair, smiling at the sudden colour of her cheeks. ‘Sorry,’ she murmurs, her eyes darting everywhere except at our friends.

  No one is fazed. No one but Ava. They all know us. We might not be wholly us at this particular moment in our lives, but I can tell my friends are as pleased to see tiny hints of the normal Jesse and Ava.

  We all order from the menu, the chat coming easier now. Observing Ava as Kate tells her stories from recent years is more pleasurable than I anticipated. As our meals land on the table, I watch for the next half hour as Ava pushes the food around her plate, drinking far more than she is eating.

  ‘More wine?’ Kate mumbles around her chilli-infused dish, the hottest on the menu, nodding at Ava’s glass. Am I the only one here concerned about the amount of alcohol falling down my wife’s throat?

  Semi-scowling to myself, I lean towards Ava. ‘Take it easy, baby. You’re still fragile.’

  She rolls her eyes, patting my hand. It’s so fucking condescending. ‘I’m fine,’ she assures me.

  An hour later, she is not fine, and I’m fucking furious with myself for backing down. I don’t trample all over the place for the fun of it. There are always perfectly sound reasons for me insisting on something, and the reason I didn’t want her to drink is evident as Ava wobbles her way up from her chair. Kate better not try to stop me this time. Tossing a scowl to each of my friends, just so they know I’m holding each of them accountable, I take Ava’s elbow and escort her to the ladies.

  ‘I’m not drunk.’ She hiccups and giggles. ‘Well, not much.’

  ‘Be quiet,’ I grumble, letting myself into the toilet with her and pushing a stall door open. ‘In you go.’

  I fill the door as opposed to closing her in, holding one of her hands while she pulls her knickers down with the other. ‘What are you smiling at?’ she asks, lowering to the loo as she beams up at me, squinting through drunken eyes.

  ‘I’m just surprised you haven’t ordered me out.’

  She’s thoughtful for a beat. ‘I didn’t even think of it. Besides, we’ve had babies together. I assume you were there for the birth.’

  My cheeks burn with the stretch of my grin, fond memories of the day my babies were born coming back to me like it could have happened yesterday. Where has that time gone? ‘It was the most beautiful day of my life.’ And stressful. I pull off some tissue and pass it to her, then help her up when she’s finished. ‘I think it’s time to go home.’

  ‘Oh, but I’ve had a lovely evening,’ she whines, letting me guide her to the sink. ‘Listening to all the stories.’

  Yes, it’s been lovely, but not once has she shown even a hint of retrieving her memory, and I’ve been looking very closely for something. Anything. Just another glimmer. ‘It’s late.’ I flip the tap on and put her hands under. ‘And you’ve had more than enough to drink.’

  ‘Bossy boots.’ She giggles as I roll my eyes and take her hands to the towel. ‘Can I have one more glass before we go?’

  ‘No.’ I hold her waist and guide her out of the toilets, back to the table. ‘We’re going now.’ I hold Ava with one arm while retrieving my wallet with the other and grabbing some notes with my teeth.

  Ava takes them from my mouth before I have a chance to spit them out. ‘He won’t let me have another drink,’ she grumbles, tossing the money on the table. ‘What a bore.’

  ‘One more for the road, Jesse,’ Kate pleads, batting her lashes. ‘She’s just a little tipsy.’

  ‘A little tipsy is too tipsy.’

  ‘I’m having fun,’ Ava retorts indignantly. ‘It’s not like there’s much else to be happy about right now. I’m married to man who I don’t know, I don’t recognise my children, and I’m missing sixteen years of my life.’

  Everyone shrinks at the table. I ignore them, and I also ignore my wife, taking her shoulders while biting my tongue. ‘Say goodbye,’ I grate.

  ‘Bye!’

  Turning her steadily, I proceed to guide her drunken bones out of the restaurant. I need to turn this around before I lose my rag. I’m so close. ‘You’re heading for a Retribution Fuck, lady.’ I open the door and give her a deadly serious face when she looks up at me through lowered lashes. She’s imagining it. Me fucking her stupid while she’s handcuffed to our bed. ‘What else are you imagining?’ I ask her cockily, wanting her to know that I’m fully aware of where her inebriated mind is at.

  ‘Nothing,’ she squeaks, moving past me through the door, her hips not swaying in their usual fashion, more jolting. That limp is getting worse. I’m hiding all of her heels when we get home. And I should mention it to her doctor.

  I’m about to swoop in and remove her from her feet, when she stops abruptly, causing my front to collide with her back, knocking her forward a few steps. I catch her elbow and curse her. ‘For fuck’s sake, Ava.’

  She pays no attention to my irritation, her focus remaining forward. ‘Matt?’ she says.

  My neck cracks with the speed I lift my head, and my hand automatically moves from Ava’s elbow to her waist. I also step forward and close the mere inc
h of space between her back and my front. Anger races to the surface. It’s made worse by the fact that she recognises the wanker she was with before she met me. It’s a fucking kick in the teeth. A baseball bat to my gut. And it only fans the flames of my anger.

  Time hasn’t been kind to Ava’s ex-boyfriend. Not kind at all, though I can tell by the way he’s drinking in my wife that he thinks otherwise where she’s concerned. Fucking hell, hold me back.

  ‘Ava?’ He moves forward, oblivious to me looming beyond. I’m head and shoulders above Ava; you can’t fucking miss me unless something more pleasurable is stealing all of your attention, and my wife, especially in that ridiculously short red thing, is definitely a more pleasurable sight than me. My face is twitching, caught between snarling, growling and glaring. ‘Wow, you look amazing.’

  She shifts before me. Is she trying to break away from me? Or is she nervous? I don’t know, and I like the thought of neither, so I lock my hand tighter on her waist. She’s going nowhere. But Matt is if he doesn’t fuck off. Like into space when I launch him there with my fist.

  ‘Thanks, Matt.’ Ava looks back at me, though I can’t tell if her look is wary or warning. My eyes are preoccupied burning holes through her arse-wipe ex. Just hearing her say his name causes all kinds of fury within me.

  ‘I read in the paper that you were involved in an accident. Sounded pretty bad.’ Matt keeps his focus on Ava. ‘Though I have to say, you’re looking very well.’

  ‘I’m getting there. You’re looking good yourself. How have you been?’

  Seriously? I’m expected to stand here like a spare part while my wife and her ex-boyfriend have a fond reunion? Not happening. Over my dead fucking body. Or maybe it’ll be over Matt’s because, I swear, I will fucking kill him.

  ‘We’re leaving.’ I tug Ava on, keeping my deadly stare trained on Matt as I escort her away. He finally looks at me, and I will him to have a little think about what happened the last time he came sniffing around my wife.

  ‘That was rude, Jesse,’ Ava argues pointlessly as I walk us to the car.

  I stop her and bend, bringing myself to her eye level. ‘You don’t remember what he did to you, but I do.’

  Instant bitterness travels in waves across her face, and I fear it’s not bitterness towards her ex, but towards me. ‘What did he do?’ she asks, all cocky.

  ‘He cheated on you. You lived with him, Ava, and you moved out when you found out he’d cheated on you. He’s an arsehole.’ I see surprise on her face, and definitely hurt. Over him?

  ‘So he cheated on me, you cheated on me.’ She laughs wickedly. ‘What the fucking hell is wrong with me? And since I’m supposed to love you madly, your transgressions hurt more! So the only arsehole I see right now is you, Jesse. Just you! And I fucking hate you!’ I can tell she regrets the words almost immediately by the quick press of her lips together, plus her small step back away from me.

  But I don’t think she will ever appreciate how much it really does hurt. I think I’d rather take another knife to my stomach. She hates me?

  ‘I’m putting your cruelty down to too much alcohol. Get in the car. Now.’ I sound possessed, and I don’t give a fucking shit.

  Without another word, she slides into the passenger seat and buckles up, not taking her wary eyes from me as I slam her door and stalk around the front of the car. Throwing myself in with force, I start the engine and screech off recklessly, fighting to cool my burning rage. It’s bad enough she recognised him – bad enough that the last man she remembers in her life was that scumbag. But her words?

  I look down at my white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, the strength of my hold doing nothing to stop my shakes. I’m fucking livid. Her hateful claim has put me in psycho territory. It’s been years since my temper has reached these heights. Years since I flew off the handle and went on a rampage of destruction. I feel like every shitty thing is coming to a head. I’m at boiling point.

  And she knows it.

  Chapter 28

  The entire drive home, Ava’s fingers remained clawed into the leather of her seat. It didn’t make me take my foot off the pedal. Either the car took the heat of my anger, or Ava did, and shouting and screaming at her wouldn’t have helped either of us.

  I’m surprised my Aston’s door doesn’t drop to the gravel driveway on a scream of pain after I’ve viciously slammed it shut. Ava’s out of the car far quicker than I expected she could manage, hobbling to the door.

  I hurry to catch up, my instinct to help her taking over and taming my anger. ‘I can walk.’ She bats my hands away as I try to pick her up. ‘Leave me alone.’

  I will never leave her alone. Leaving her alone would be as good as giving up, and where my wife is concerned, I never give up. As gently as I can, I lunge in and swipe her from her feet, lifting her over my shoulder. ‘Forget it, lady.’ The smashing of her fists into my back are a sign of her trying to make a stand more than a means of escape. We both know she’s going nowhere until I release her.

  ‘I said leave me alone!’ she screams, half-vexed, half-hysterical. It’s exactly how I feel inside. I absorb each blow, pacing towards the door. ‘Jesse!’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, Ava,’ I warn, kicking the door open once I’ve unlocked it.

  ‘You’re an animal!’

  ‘Story of my fucking life where you’re concerned.’ I lower her to her feet. The fists that were smacking pointlessly at my back begin pounding at my chest. And I just stand, motionless, letting her vent and thrash out, screaming her frustration.

  If only I had the same kind of outlet. Something to beat and pound and scream at. But I don’t, so I savour her brutal smashes of my torso, hoping that at the same time she beats the frustration out of me, too.

  She goes for it mercilessly, her strength fuelled by her despair.

  And I’m fine with it. I’d be her punching bag for the rest of my miserable days if it would make her feel even the tiniest bit better. Because, ultimately, while I’m in pieces trying to navigate my way through this unfamiliar, painful territory, the love of my life is in more despair. While I have our memories to cling to, she does not. While I have our children’s faces to picture during this nightmare, every moment of their short lives to remember, she does not. While I have hope and recognise the glimmers of her recollections, she does not.

  My thoughts take over, anger burning my insides as she continues to scream and punch. ‘Go on!’ I roar, and she starts, moving back. ‘Fucking hit me, Ava! It can’t feel any worse than how I’m hurting here.’ I smash my fist into my chest. ‘So hit me!’

  I close my eyes as she comes at me again. And while she’s lashing out, I think about how powerful our love is. Not as powerful as I always thought, because if it was, surely it would shine through anything. Even this.

  It takes me a few seconds to realise that she’s stopped thumping me, and when I open my eyes, I find her heaving before me, her hair a crazy mess around her face, her eyes wild. We stare at each other for a few moments, me expressionless, Ava clearly shocked by her outburst. Or shocked that I’ve stood here and accepted it. Because what the fuck else would I do? Retaliate? Hit her back? Her thinking that might be a possibility makes me feel sick. Makes me want to hurt myself to demonstrate that I’d take everything before I’d let anything cause her pain.

  Just seeing her before me looking so lost and hopeless, clearly wondering what I’m thinking, and me knowing what she’s thinking, only amplifies my despair. And my anger. I can’t take this.

  I leave her to compose herself in the hallway while I stalk through the house to the games room, my mind set on one thing. The one thing that will numb me. The one thing that will take me away from my nightmare. My eyes home in on the bottle set on the bar; the respite that just a few swigs could give me is too tempting to pass up. I shrug my suit jacket off and toss it to the carpet, then yank my tie loose and pop open the
top button of my collar, too.

  My eyes still on that bottle, my hand goes through my hair roughly. Long-lost memories of the alcohol-induced haze of nothingness return full force. I need that nothingness right now. Because if this is how my life is going to feel from now on, then I’m out. I’m done.

  I swipe up the bottle of vodka and pull out the cork, my breathing laboured. A bead of sweat starts trickling down my forehead, and I roughly wipe it away as I bring the bottle to my lips. Just one sip. That’s all it’ll take. One swallow to start numbing the pain.

  Nostrils flaring, I knock back my first big gulp and gasp, the liquor burning down my dry throat. It hits my stomach hard, and my thoughts go back to the days when I was lost in a haze of drink and women. I see myself naked. With endless women, all women who aren’t my wife.

  ‘Jesse!’ Ava’s stricken voice pierces my flashback, pulling me away from the decadent days of The Manor, back to my reality. Her glassy eyes hold me in place. Beautiful eyes, the chocolate eyes that put me under a spell and never let me go. ‘You shouldn’t be drinking,’ she pants, still breathless from her episode in the hallway.

  I look down at the bottle, except this time I don’t see an escape. Now I see poison. Now I see the coward’s choice. Now I see real damage. She’s right; I shouldn’t be drinking it. But most importantly, she knows I shouldn’t be drinking it. ‘Why?’ I ask quietly, looking back to her. ‘Why shouldn’t I be drinking it, Ava?’

  Her mouth opens and closes, her mind clearly straining to find the answer. I don’t want to admit that the answer she’s looking for isn’t there. I don’t want to accept that she won’t find it. Her statement was just another one of those pointless glimmers of hope.

  Her blankness shoves me over the edge, and I lose my shit, frustration and despair getting the better of me. ‘Why, Ava?’ I roar. ‘Why shouldn’t I be drinking the fucking vodka?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she sobs, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably, emotion finally taking the place of her frustration. ‘I don’t know.’ She buries her face in hands, hiding from our reality.