Denied (One Night 2)

I choke on nothing, coughing all over the dinner table, and George looks like he’s about to have a seizure. He gathers himself and picks up his newspaper, using it to fan his face. ‘You have a wicked mind, Josephine Taylor.’

‘She does,’ Gregory chuckles, giving me a little wink.

Everyone pulls themselves together and I sigh, starting to poke at my cake again. Then I worry because I hear Nan draw breath – the long kind, the kind that means I’m not going to like what she says. ‘Why don’t you let Gregory take you out?’

I sink into my chair, feeling three sets of eyes all on me again. The misery returns, too.

‘Yeah, come on, Livy,’ my friend interjects, giving me a light knock on my arm with his fist. ‘We’ll go to a straight bar.’

‘See!’ Nan chirps. ‘How kind. He’s even willing to sacrifice a night of passion for your benefit.’

I gasp. Gregory laughs and George snorts. He loves Gregory, but he refuses to acknowledge his sexual preference. I think it’s an age thing, not that it bothers Gregory. In fact, he plays on it too much, and when he takes a deep inhale of air, I know immediately that he’s about to do just that.

‘Yes’ – he leans back in his chair – ‘I’ll pass up the opportunity to roll around with a naked, sweaty man if it means you’ll come out.’

I bite my lip, stopping myself from laughing out loud at the awkward fidgeting coming from George’s direction. Nan doesn’t, though. No, she’s in pieces, her body jiggling with laughter as George continues to shift and mutter under his breath.

‘You’re all wicked,’ he grumbles. ‘Wicked minds.’

‘How very good of you, Gregory.’ Nan titters. ‘Now that’s a good friend.’

George’s old face frowns at Gregory across the table. ‘I thought you were bisexual.’

‘Oh’ – Gregory grins – ‘I’ll be whatever they want me to be, George.’

Nan’s companion fails to prevent his disgusted snort and Nan fails to prevent her continued amusement.

This is good. The diversion in conversation to Gregory’s sexual antics has saved me from further pressure to go out and my struggle to appear fine. I study him for a few moments, watching his shoulders jump up and down as he continues to wind up poor George, and Nan eggs him on with hoots of glee. Their happy banter suddenly only seems to remind me that I’m not happy and no amount of pretending or distraction will remedy it. Things can divert me momentarily, but it soon returns, seeming more painful when it does, like it’s making up for its brief absence every time I break a smile.

My chews slow and so do my swallows. My turning stomach is fast, though, executing a spin that sends me dashing from the kitchen to the bathroom, where I retch over the toilet for no purpose at all. There’s nothing to bring up except acidy bile, making the taste in my mouth even worse.

Hopeless.

The soft knock at the door forces me to lift my head and look blankly at the wood. ‘Baby girl?’ Gregory pushes the door open and slips in, not bothering to warn me first in case I’m on the toilet. His handsome face tries to smile some ease into me but fails miserably. I know he feels as hopeless as I do. He pops a Polo mint past my lips and pulls me to my feet before brushing my hair from my face and scanning me worriedly.

‘Livy, you’re wasting away.’ His eyes drop to my skinnier-than-usual body. ‘Come on.’

Pulling me across the landing to my bedroom, he shuts the door softly behind us and guides me to the bed, tugging me down next to him and slipping his arm around me. I snuggle into his side but get no comfort from his embrace. This isn’t the thing I had with Miller. This isn’t warming me to the core or sending my mind into a blissful peace. There’s no humming or gentle lips pushing into the top of my head now and then.

We lie for an age in silence until I feel Gregory’s chest rise, drawing air, prepared to speak. ‘Are you ready to give me the full story yet? You’re not fine, and don’t bother trying to fob me off with the “other woman” story because you kinda had your suspicions before. It didn’t stop you then.’

I shake my head no into his chest, but I’m not sure whether I’m declining his offer to explain or if I’m telling him that no, it’s not the supposed other woman. The former I don’t need to confirm. It’s glaringly obvious, but the latter isn’t. I could never share the real reason why my life is over. And William? No, no, I couldn’t.

‘Okay,’ he sighs above me, squeezing me tighter, but then his phone starts ringing and he eases up a little to dig through his pocket. I definitely don’t imagine the increased speed of his heart rate under my ear. Pulling from his chest, I find him staring down at the screen, looking completely defeated. His expression reminds me that while I’ve been wallowing in self-pity, my best friend has been suffering, too. I feel incredibly guilty, which, even more selfishly, feels so much better than my constant aching heart.

‘Are you going to answer it?’ I ask quietly, while he continues to stare down at the screen. I’m not sure why he looks so upset. Surely he should be happy that Ben is calling. Or am I missing something? Probably. I don’t recall much from the past two weeks at all, but I distinctly remember he’d spoken to Ben briefly and it wasn’t good. Or did I imagine that?

He lifts his eyes and smiles, but it’s a sad smile. ‘I guess I should. I’ve been expecting it.’

I frown a little as he connects the call, but he doesn’t speak. He just holds the phone to his ear and it’s mere seconds before I hear Ben’s angry shouts, plain and clear. Gregory winces as his ex-lover hurls abuse down the line, ranting about calling and harassing him. I’m stunned, even more so when Gregory apologises quietly. He’s got nothing to be sorry about. He’s not the one pretending to be someone he isn’t. He’s not hiding from the truth. Familiar anger bubbles but for a whole other reason, and in a moment centred on pure protective instinct, I snatch the phone from my friend’s limp hand and let out two weeks’ worth of fury. I’m raging.