The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 54 - Collision

I hear the door opening but I don't look up. His breath catches sharply in his throat when he sees me sitting on the couch in the dark. And mine seems to seep through my parted lips like a whispered prayer.

One set of footsteps. Steady footsteps. Strong and heavy. Not drunken. Not erratic.

Thank God he came back alone. I don't what I would have done had he brought her home.

I've been sitting here since he disappeared through that same door with her eight hours ago. Thinking, brooding, formulating a plan. You'd think I'd be more prepared.

He flicks on the lights, drops his keys on the glass side table and I hear the ruffle of the satin underlining of his expensive suit as he removes his blazer and walks towards the kitchen.

"How could you?" I croak as I feel him slow down behind me.

He stops completely and sighs. I know he hears the grief in my voice and I don't even care anymore. He needs to know. He has to know how hurt I am.

I stare at the shaggy carpet beneath my bare feet and dig my bare toes into the fabric until they're white.

"I can live with the drinking, the girls, the cold shoulder... I know you're only doing it to keep me out. I can... We can work through that. But what you did today was just... hurtful, Jer."

"Ally," he starts, but then he chokes up and stops.

A savage vindictiveness comes over me. I stand to face him, angry, ready to vomit every bit of the pain and disgust and the anger tossing inside me. But his eyes are lowered. His jaw is clenched tight, mouth set in a thin, straight line, hands in the pockets of his Gucci trousers, his blazer hanging limply across his forearm. And I swallow it all back, knowing it's bloody pointless.

I embrace the hollowness inside me and meet him in front of the kitchen island, dropping an envelope on the surface. It's worn and stained with tears, telling him all he needs to know about how he just made me feel.

"There's your rent money." My voice comes out just as dull as I feel. "I booked a couple of viewings for tomorrow. I'll be out of your life soon enough."

The colour drains from his cheeks as his eyes dart frantically from the envelope to my face.

"What?" he asks, unable to keep the urgency out of his voice. "No. I don't want you to go."

He takes a hesitant step towards me but stops when I take a step back. The thought of him touching me, knowing he's just touched her makes me sick and I actually press on my stomach as it clenches painfully.

"It doesn't feel like it," I spit back.

My brain is screaming to go back to my room, to make this as clean and easy as possible before I make it worse. But how can it be worse?

How the fuck can it be any worse?

"You can have any woman you want! You made that very clear over the past few weeks. Why her? Why would you rub her in my face?"

"Nothing happened-" he starts.

"I don't care!" I yell. "I don't give a shit! It hurts, Jeremy! It physically hurts! Just the thought of you and her together makes me want to throw up. I... I... God! I just can't get the image of you two leaving together out of my head. Finding out about her and Keith was nothing compared to this," I tell him, surprising myself with the truth of that statement. "What do you want? To break me? Well, congratulations! You've done it. I'm done."

He takes another step towards me but I recoil away from him again, crossing my arms protectively over my chest. He stops, his hard eyes softening with the pain this causes him. I feel the stone-cold satisfaction at knowing that I'm capable of hurting him too.