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I stare at her. I had not expected her to say that.
“Shit,” I say.
Her lips curve up, just a little.
“What did he say?” I ask, my whisky-addled mind trying to run through a thousand different options.
“He said I’d broken his heart.” Her lips twist. “He was absolutely gutted, as I knew he’d be of course. I… I thought he’d go ballistic. Scream and shout at me. Call me names. Probably walk out. But he didn’t. He… he cried.”
Oh fuck. The clever, clever bastard.
“He said he didn’t want to lose me. And that I shouldn’t throw away the seven years we’ve spent working our relationship for my one night with you.”
I fold my arms and don’t say anything.
“He said he wasn’t going to let you steal me away from him. And that he was going to fight for me.” She stops and swallows hard.
Fuck, shit, wank, bollocks, cunt, arse. That motherfucker, gaslighting her into believing they have a golden relationship, and I’m out to ruin it.
“Right,” I say.
“He begged me to stay. To talk to him about what needed to change.”
“Which I’m guessing you did.”
“I was very confused. So yes, I stayed. And we talked, almost non-stop, for two days.”
She falls quiet for a moment.
“Did you sleep with him?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
The tight hand that had gripped my heart releases it, and I exhale. Still, I’m not out of the woods yet. “And? Have you come here to tell me this is it?”
“No,” she says. “We talked, and we talked, and we talked. About everything. We were totally honest. And I think, if one thing had been different, we might have been able to make it work.”
“What was the one thing?”
“It was you, Henry,” she says softly. “Over those two days, it became clear to me. I didn’t sleep with you to punish Cam. Or because I was sad, or lonely. I’m sure those things played a part in it. But that wasn’t the reason.”
She moves closer to me and looks me in the eyes. “I went to bed with you because I wanted you. I’ve wanted you for years, since the first time we met. I’ve pretended I haven’t, because you were with Shaz, and I was with Cam, and I thought it wasn’t meant to be. But I couldn’t deny it any longer. And I told him the truth—that I’m in love with you, and I want to be with you.”
I release the breath in a whoosh. My heart’s thundering. I want to dance, cheer, sweep her up in my arms.
But something doesn’t feel right. Why hasn’t she called me? And why does it feel as if storm clouds are still circling over our heads?
“This morning, I told him I wanted to go to the wedding on my own,” she says. “I said we needed time apart. He was really upset about it. He cried, again. Begged me to stay. He actually got down on his fucking knees.” For the first time, anger flares in her eyes. She didn’t like that. “But his brothers are still here, and I said he should spend some time with them, because we both need to think about what we want. He said he knows what he wants, but he agreed to give me space if I would agree to talk again when I get back.”
She hesitates. “He wanted me to promise that I wouldn’t talk to you. I refused. I said you were a friend and I wasn’t going to ignore you. He got angry and said I was being unfair, because we needed to take you out of the equation. And I said I couldn’t do that. I kept thinking about an image I had in my mind on Christmas Day, that when a building has been so badly damaged, you have to destroy it, right down to its foundations, so you can rebuild it again. I know I’ve got to do it. I’ve got to destroy that relationship so I can start again with you.” Her bottom lip trembles. “But he’s making it so hard for me. I thought when I told him about us it would all be over, but he keeps tugging on my heartstrings, and telling me that what we have is worth fighting for… And I just feel so incredibly, heartbreakingly sad…”
My brow furrows, because I remember how it felt when Shaz and I decided it was finally over. Even though it’s a relief, it’s so, so hard to believe the person you dedicated your life to is no longer going to be yours. You feel as if it’s all been a massive waste of time. You tell yourself repeatedly that it could work if only you tried harder, loved each other that little bit more. I can see the torment Juliette’s going through, and my heart aches for her. How can I get angry when she’s obviously trying so hard to end it?
“I’m so confused,” she whispers. “Everything’s going around and around in my head, until I can’t decide what to do or what I want. And I know it’s unfair to you, and I’m so sorry…”
We stand there like that for a moment. And I realize I can react in two ways.
The first way is to tell her I understand, and that I’m going to give her time to think about it, and come to the decision at her own pace. To be humble and considerate, kind and gentle, tender and supportive, and just hope it all works out.
