Cruel Beloved

Emma’s hand touches mine under the table.

“But that kiss,” he says again, looking from my lips to Whiskey. “You’re a lucky man.”

“That I am,” Whiskey says back to him as he leans over and kisses my temple.

Clinton walks off after that.

“Someone wants what I have.”

I shiver. I hated being kissed by that man.

“Too bad you blackmailed me for it,” I whisper, so only the people at the table can hear. Barry looks to me then turns away.

“At least you don’t have to deal with Clinton anymore. That’s a win, is it not?”

“I can handle him,” I say.

“I’m sure you can,” he patronizes me.

“When is this over? When can I leave?”

The waiter slides my food in front of me.

“At least until dessert, darling,” he says in a sweet voice as the waiter places Whiskey’s food down in front of him.

“Thank God,” I say, turning away from him and back to Emma.

“The tension is thick,” she whispers to me, giggling. “You should just fuck him and get it over with.”

I smack her arm. “No. Don’t suggest that.”

Wiggling her eyebrows, she says, “How are you meant to make him fall in love with you then?”

Before I can answer, my parents walk up to the table and are standing in front where Clinton was before. “Congratulations,” my mother says, and my father nods. “Where will you be going for your honeymoon?”

I look to Whiskey.

Oh shit! That wasn’t discussed. I don’t want one of them.

“We aren’t. Not yet, at least. Carla can’t get time off work.”

My mother’s eyes train in on me. “Well, how about you take our lake home for a few days?”

“No,” I say it too fast, and my father’s eyes narrow in on me. “Corton’s right, I don’t have the time to take off at work. We will do something, just the two of us, when the time is right,” I reply, leaning into him.

His hand goes straight to my thigh, but I shake it off.

“Well, make sure you mingle with your guests,” my father says.

Of course he would say that.

I contain my eye roll but only just as they walk off. Not once when I was ready to walk down the aisle did he ask me if this was what I wanted, or was I okay to do this.

He was happy with who I was marrying, and that’s all he cares about. To be honest, it made me mad. Even though, as a child, I wanted to please him. And even as an adult, I still do. I shouldn’t have to sacrifice everything in my life for him. Which is what I’m doing right now.

“We can go,” Whiskey whispers.

I turn to Emma. “Come over later? Or tomorrow?” I ask her.

She looks past me to Barry, then back to me. “Tomorrow.”

I smile, but it’s forced. I was hoping she would say tonight and maybe even stay with me.

“Carla babes.” My body stops at that voice as Chance walks over to me, his wife nowhere near him. Chance nods to Whiskey then looks to me. “We have to meet up. Talk.” I nod.

My hand goes into Whiskey’s, who has straightened as he stands next to us. Chance nods and walks away with one last look. Whiskey pulls me out the back to a waiting car, but we don’t talk on the drive, and when we pull up out front, he gets out to open my door. I think he’s going to stay until he walks me to the front door and doesn’t come in.

“Goodnight, wife.”

He shuts the door behind me.

And I’m left standing in this big house, in my wedding dress, all alone.

Emma comes over as planned, and then she comes the next day as well, until she has to go back to work. I, on the other hand, have taken the week off. That, as it stands, was probably a mistake. I should have gone straight back to things, instead of living this life. His life, in his house.

What kind of life is this going to be? Not one I chose, that’s for sure.

My week consists of me hanging around the house watching Netflix and ordering as much bad takeaway as I can fit in my stomach.

Not once do I see or hear from him.

The weeks start to fall away fast once I return to work.

It’s been close to a month now since I’ve seen Whiskey, since we’ve been married, and I’m glad it’s going fast, but it’s a lonely existence. I hate this house and being stuck in it.

When my father pops around for unexpected visits, which he’s done twice, I lie telling him Whiskey’s at work, when in reality I have no idea where he is.

Today though, today’s a good day.

We have a band booked, and recently they hit number one worldwide.

“I would offer to buy you a drink…” I turn to the lead drummer of one of America’s biggest bands. Chase’s hair is long, his lip pierced, and in his mouth hangs a cigarette. Not lit.