Millionaire's Woman
‘Civilised. I was going to say civilised.’
‘I’m not civilised where you are concerned, Cory. I thought you knew that.’
For a moment she couldn’t speak.
‘Go to bed.’ It was toneless, final.
She opened her mouth to argue but suddenly there was so much anger in his face that she shut it again. And then she saw him visibly get his temper under control again. ‘I mean it, Cory. Before I do or say something I’ll regret.’
When she reached the landing and opened her door, switching on the light, Cory paused for a moment. Then she heard the front door to the building open and close. He had gone.
How long she sat on the sofa in the sitting room with her bag at her feet Cory didn’t know. Eventually she rose, walking into the kitchen on legs that were shaky. She made herself a mug of milky coffee, carrying it back into the sitting room.
Her hands cupped round the warmth of the mug, her brain seemed to kick in and come to life again. They were finished. She was never going to see him again. It was over. Why had she done it, why? She had made the biggest mistake of her life.
She swayed back and forth a few times, her eyes dry now she could cry at last. Suddenly the emptiness of what she saw before her was too consuming for the relief of tears.
If she had stayed with him who knew what the future might have held? He might have grown to love her like she loved him; he might. Anything was possible. People could change, mellow. He could have decided at some point down the line that he wanted more than a semi-bachelor existence. Marriage, even children might have presented themselves as attractive.
She finished the coffee before standing up and beginning to pace the room, twisting her hands in front of her like a demented woman. She had burnt all her bridges tonight because Nick was a proud man and he would never forgive her for this. Even if she begged him, he wouldn’t take her back now.
How could she have done it? Why had she been so stupid? It had seemed so right earlier after she had listened to him talking to Margaret, but now it seemed just as wrong. She didn’t understand herself. She didn’t understand herself at all. He had said he loved her. OK, it might not be the roses round the door and ring on the finger kind of emotion when he spoke about the word, but at least it had been a start. Now…
After a while she forced herself to go into the bedroom and get undressed. She had a shower, standing under the warm flow of water for some time, but nothing helped the terrible grinding pain in her heart. After brushing her teeth, she pulled on an old pair of pyjamas that had seen better days but which were fleecy and warm and climbed into bed. Half an hour later she was back in the sitting room again, not knowing what to do with herself.
She would go and see him in the morning. Eat humble pie. Crawl if necessary. She glanced at the clock. It was only three o’clock in the morning. How was she going to endure the next few hours without going mad?
The buzzer on the intercom in the hall brought her eyes widening and her heart thudding. She suddenly had a mental picture of a policeman standing at the front door with the news that Nick’s car had crashed and he was dead. He had driven like one of the Formula One drivers he admired so much on the way back from Barnstaple.
She rushed to the hall, flicking the switch on the intercom with trembling hands. ‘Yes, who is it?’ she croaked.
‘Cory?’
The relief she felt in hearing Nick’s voice almost made her faint. Somehow she managed to say, ‘Nick? What are you doing back here?’
‘I’ve asked myself the same question.’ It was dry and sardonic, but there was none of the furious rage of earlier. ‘Can I come up?’
‘What? Oh, yes, yes.’ She pressed the switch to open the front door almost numbly, unable to believe he was here. That he was back. And then it suddenly swept over her. She had to tell him. This was her moment. She didn’t know what had brought him back but she couldn’t miss it again.
She opened the flat door, stepping out on to the landing just as he reached the top of the stairs. ‘Nick!’ She flung herself at him with enough force to have taken them both down the stairs if he hadn’t braced himself at the last moment. ‘Oh, Nick, Nick. I didn’t mean it. I was stupid, crazy. I don’t want us to finish, I don’t.’ The tears which had been on hold all night had burst forth in a torrent, her voice a wail.
She was aware of him picking her up when she continued to cling on to him like grim death, also that Arnie was barking again downstairs and the flat door above had just opened. Nick carried her into the flat, kicking the door shut behind him and walking over to the sofa, where he sat down with her on his lap. She still had her arms round his neck in a stranglehold, terrified he was going to leave before she could say what she had to say. The only trouble was, she couldn’t get anything out with the tears blocking her voice and her nose streaming.
He let her sob for a minute or two against his chest before prising her arms away and reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief. After wiping her eyes, he held it to her nose. ‘Blow.’
She blew, gulping and then saying, ‘Nick, oh, Nick.’
‘Whatever I expected, it wasn’t this.’ There was a thread of amusement in his voice but she didn’t care. He was here.
‘I was so stupid.’ She tried desperately to stop crying but now she had started she didn’t seem able to control the tears. ‘And I didn’t mean it. It’s just that with you not wanting commitment and all that, I thought it was for the best. But it’s not.’
‘Slow down, love, slow down.’
Love. He had called her love. Suddenly she could see a light at the end of the tunnel again.
‘What’s all this about me not wanting commitment?’ he asked softly, getting her to blow her nose again.
She must look a fright. Cory became aware of her tearravaged face and runny nose at the same time that it registered that she was wearing the most un-sexy pair of pyjamas in the world. It helped stem the tears. Shakily she said, ‘I look awful; these are my oldest pyjamas. I bet none of your other girlfriends ever wore anything like this, did they?’