The next two days dragged agonisingly by. He didn’t try to contact her at all, and she knew he would have collected Morag and settled her at home as he had planned. She wondered what he had said to the other woman, if he had even bothered to keep trying to tell her that he had moved on and needed her to stop.
Did he really need to anymore?
It ate and gnawed away at her, tainting every moment of every hour, unsure what she even was to him now. If in his head, she had ended things for good.
Abby took her to the cinema on Saturday afternoon, to distract her and give them both some much-needed bonding time, seeing as lately they hadn’t done much of it. Rob was giving both the cold shoulder it seemed and the girls left him out of conversation.
The film did nothing to lift either of their reflective moods, some romantic chick flick which was annoyingly engagement and drama based and full of family hilarity. Dinner at a cheap fast food place after was strained and they had to admit neither was in the mood to be sociable, both equally distracted by Rob and their own fights with him.
She dropped Abby at home later that night feeling the sinking ache at the absence of his car, the lack of contact. The dark lights of his rooms as she drove around the wide park to turn and leave; it was like he had just ceased to exist in her little world. His lack of presence was like a black hole in her heart consuming any light.
She pulled up his number a hundred times to phone him but could not bring herself to press call. She knew she should be the one to do it, after all, she was the one who had broken off their engagement in a flurry of female insanity. She just couldn’t. He had his reasons to be sorry too, he had partial blame in this and the way he had pushed her out. Stubbornness setting in, Rose’s worst flaw was this internal sense of injustice that made it impossible to be the one to reach out to him.
At night, she was restless in bed, sure every noise or creak was him driving up to the cottage, but it wasn’t. She couldn’t sleep. Crying sporadically and getting up a hundred times to get water or tissues or to toss and turn. She must have readjusted her cushions a dozen times and even opened and shut her window and curtains a dozen more. Poor Muffin had even vacated the bed and gone to sleep on the couch away from her restlessness.
She left her bed when it was dark, barely grazing morning, and built a fire in the lounge. She took her mind off everything and hoped to warm the icy shivers raking through her alone in the bed. The summer was ending, and the colder nights were moving in slowly; It just made her feel more depressed and alone. She could not get him out of her head, slowly driving her into insanity.
Warmed by the flickering flames, she finally drifted to sleep on the couch. Finally finding some peace to her inner turmoil but dreaming restlessly, tossing and turning, yet again; only this time on a narrow couch and barely stayed still through into the early hours of the Sunday morning. Muffin had moved back to the bed in a bid to be free and he slept alone and in peace.
Getting up from another night without him made it feel even worse. Part of her always hoping he would appear; pulling her to him in the dark like he always did and wiping all of this away; but he never materialised.
He would be coming home today. Maybe he already was. It was early, but he had not been sure if he would have an overnight arrival or early morning, so he could literally come home at any time, if not already. Her heart sank when she checked her phone for the hundredth time and it still showed nothing from him.
At least with the distance between them, he had an excuse to stay away. Back home there was nothing to use as an excuse for his staying away, except that he didn’t want to see her.
She tried not to watch the clock. Tried to go about the morning as she normally would. Feeding Muffin and taking him a walk, a long soak in a bubble bath and an age choosing something to wear before spending a crazy amount of time on her hair and makeup and even longer painting her nails.
She couldn’t stand it anymore. Listlessly pacing from her workroom a dozen times to fetch tea and notes, wearing her rugs threadbare with her manic prisoner-like stalking around her floorspace. The walking around was a sign of her inability to settle, her mind elsewhere while her ears were still tuned into every noise outside, waiting endlessly for familiar tyres on gravel.
The clock had dragged slowly to noon and there was no way she could deny his return anymore. He would be back for sure; his flights always came in early morning and the drive home was less than an hour from the airfield.
He wasn’t coming.
She couldn’t stay here like this, torturing herself, and she knew how stubborn he could be; they both could be. Maybe he was waiting for her to make the next move. He had said, ‘When she cooled down’ Maybe that’s what he was doing, right?
Torn with indecisiveness and struggling to decide.
Go or stay?
Fuck
Muffin gave her a quizzical look as she asked out loud. No answers in the cute little face, staring at her with hanging tongue and cocked head. It was almost as if he was saying, ‘Why are you still here?
She realised without deciding; her body was already moving around, collecting her bag and phone: her head taking a moment to catch up with the plan and her heart going into complete erratic overdrive, beating so hard her chest was heaving. Stubborn Rose was in full control again and pushed herself to face the issue head-on.
What was the worst he could do? Break up? She had already done that for the second time. If anyone had a reason to be insecure, it sure wasn’t her.
Could he refuse to see her?
Sitting here alone was worse, the agony of not knowing what was happening between them. At least knowing he had turned her away wasn’t the same as endlessly waiting, second-guessing if he would appear. She would go up, and if he told her to leave, she would know exactly where they stood. Telling her to go away would mean he was done with her and their relationship.
Swallowing down fear and pride, she drove up the long sweeping drive to the familiar dark stone manor towering above her. The plants and trees had started to darken in colour lately, giving the old building a more sinister vibe as autumn approached, more historical and foreboding.
Rob’s car was parked neatly in its usual spot, shaded by a large tree near the house and the mere sight of it sent her heart plummeting, sure he was now home and hadn’t been anywhere near her intentionally. Not that she could blame him, she had acted insane and she didn’t deserve any other treatment.
Pulling up and parking beside the sleek black car, she instantly lost her nerve. The car was like a foreboding presence, and knowing he was here had her feeling suddenly terrified. Nausea rose, and dizziness clouded her vision, anxiety biting her insides. She rested her face on her steering wheel for a moment, trying to steady her breathing and calm her shaking hands, closing her eyes and steadying her trembling body to get a grip. She was aware of the hotness of her face, drowning out all noises as she listened to the blood rushing from her brain. She brought her arms up to cushion the sides of her face and wrap over her head, trying to dig down deep for some sense of bravado to get out of the car in between deep, slow breaths.
It wasn’t needed. The click of her opening door startled her, and the soft, smooth voice that followed had her heart stop the mid beat.
‘Are you planning on sitting out here all day?’
She hesitated, looking sideways at his waist and torso but bit her lip, steeling her nerves and glanced up. He was agonisingly handsome, leaning down towards her, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, looking effortless as he always did. He had his hands resting above her door frame and supporting his weight, making his shirt pull up to expose a small inch of the carved abdomen. A sight she had ached for but now was being tortured by. His hair was freshly cut, and his face was cleanly shaven. He smelled of that familiar seductive scent, and his face was unreadable. Cold perfection, just like the first time she ever laid eyes on him.
‘No, I was just......’ Her voice trailed off quietly. Unable to meet those eyes she knew were trained on her. She fumbled, pulling out her keys and bag and moved to get out as he stepped out of the way. She wanted to stare at his face, breathe him in and throw herself around him, but her pride and uncertainty held her back. Instead, she silently straightened up, sensing him moving back out of her way further, closing her door and locking it; he was standing with crossed arms watching her. His nearness affected her far more than she was letting on.
‘Now the question is, are you here to see Abby? Or are you here to see me?’ His face was giving nothing away, and his tone was hardly friendly. His posture was standoffish as she felt her voice breaking in an attempt to answer; she couldn’t stand this anymore, or the way he was coolly looking at her. It was torture, the tension deafening. She turned to face him, twisting her keys anxiously in her fingers and could barely look into that gorgeous face, tense and close to tears, as he angrily frowned at her. All signs of still being majorly pissed.
‘Rob.?...’ Her words were broken off by the familiar red car pulling in beside them, sending her stomach into a frantic mess. Her voice hushed into silence at the appearance of the other woman’s car.
Fucks sakes!
Morag parked as they both watched, glancing back and trying to read his steady gaze as he watched the car manoeuvre slowly and carefully; he watched his unmovable form, but she got nothing. He didn’t seem surprised to see the other woman either. She guessed it was why he was out here, waiting for Morag.
It wouldn’t be for me. He never knew I was coming and didn’t exactly ask me to come.
Rose’s breathing was getting shallower, and she was unsure how to behave. She had begun picking at her nails absently, eyes no longer on him as it was almost unbearable to look at him this way. He was still focused on the approaching redhead, and his body language sent off a clear ‘stay away from me’ vibe.
Morag slid out of the car, her body clothed in a figure-hugging grey tracksuit and long sleeves with a briefcase in one hand. The hint of dressings and bandages on her wrists and hands peeking from under the edges of her cuffs. Her red hair piled up on top of her head messily, her face free of all traces of makeup, giving her a youthful, almost innocent look, and for a moment, Rose never recognised her. She looked like a sweet young girl, completely vulnerable and doe-eyed. She could imagine that this was the version Rob had loved once upon a time, that innocent and almost Rose-like version of the woman in front of them.
Rose turned her eyes to the gravel, kicking her trainer's toe at some loose moss, unable to look at the approaching woman anymore and feeling wholly uncomfortable and majorly emotional. Rob greeted the new arrival with a smile, leaned in to kiss her on the cheek and sent another shooting pain through Rose’s heart. She acted like she didn’t see and instead plastered a friendly face on.
‘Morag, you remember Rose? Abby’s friend!’ Rob raised an eyebrow at Rose with a hint of sarcasm, but he was masking it enough to appear friendly and normal.
Her heart was pounding through her chest painfully, her eyes prickling with tears. She couldn’t stand this anymore. The man she loved wasn’t this cruel. If he was trying to punish her, then it was working. Morag nodded and gave her a small forced smile, to which Rose faked a smile in return.
‘Nice to see you again, Morag.’ Awkwardness looming, the atmosphere strained, and Rob seemed uncaring about it all. ‘I really should go and see her. We had, errr, plans.’ She lied hopelessly, almost tripping over her own words. Rob flashed her a sardonic tiny half smile and then turned away towards the other woman without a goodbye. Morag followed suit and immediately pulled him into a hushed conversation, making it obvious Rose was unimportant and easily dismissed.
I hate you!
Turning away, Rose tried to steam away gracefully, trying not to stop and break into a flood of tears in front of them or let her heart fall right out of her body and shatter on the gravel. She didn’t wait for an invite when she got to the large looming entrance but pushed open the heavy wooden door, almost fleeing up the stairs to Abby’s room; glad it was unlocked, she did not need her key. Knocking on Abby’s door desperately. When she reached it and pushed it open reluctantly, she found it empty.
Her heart was trying to leave her body through her chest, her lungs struggling to cope as the overwhelming frenzy of erratic emotions and war against tears enveloped her. She sank onto the bed, trying to gain control and cradled her face in her hands. She wanted to be sick, knowing now she shouldn’t have come.
How could he be this way towards her? Was it really over? Did he not want her anymore?
She should have realised that his silence had been a message that it was over, that she had blown it. Her behaviour and throwing back his mother’s ring had sealed her fate, and she had been too stupid to realise it. Rob wasn’t some immature, erratic person who lost his temper and stamped his foot. Rob was someone who didn’t have any space in his life for any more crazy, needy women, making life hell for him.
She couldn’t let the tears start, or they would never stop, but she couldn’t stop them. Pacing, trying to get a hold of herself, she knew she needed to leave. Abby wasn’t home. She had known that already as she was still staying with Duncan to avoid her brother, and Rose had been too caught up in seeing him to think about that little fact. She couldn’t stay here. She needed to leave, to breathe, to break down in private.
Standing up purposefully and pushing every screaming emotion down, she walked to the grand gilded mirror. Deep breaths, calming breaths. In through her nose and out through her mouth with hands trembling, she smoothed her hair and face. Pep-talking to the face in the reflection to appear relaxed, wiping her eyes and dabbing away the threatening tears, rubbing it all out.
Putting that rehearsed mask back on that she had spent weeks perfecting when he had devastated her life once before, straightening her body and breathing deeply.
She could do this! All she had to do was get up, walk purposefully down the stairs and out the front door and leave.
She could fall apart when she was driving down that goddamn long-ass tarmac, but right now, she needed to save face. Keep some dignity. It was all she had left.
She took one last calming gulp of oxygen and slowly made her way out of the door. The hall seemed deserted and silent. No sign of either of them. She carefully picked her way down the stairs, afraid to make more noise than necessary, her eyes glancing around suspiciously in the eerily quiet and empty house as though even the staff were missing.
Were they still outside? Shit! What if they were?