Six months later
“The stars are so bright tonight,” Vicky says as we lie together and lovingly interlace our gloved hands. “Do you ever wonder what else is out there, Chris? Or how big the universe is? Or how on earth we somehow found our way into each other’s arms from the complete opposite sides of the world?”
I lean over and kiss the top of her head, brushing my lips softly against her long silky hair which escapes from above the muffs that are protecting her ears against the sharp cold air. “You’re so funny, Vicky. I’m a bloke remember, we don’t think about stuff like that. You’re lucky if I can think long enough to work out what’s for dinner!”
“I know. But when you see the millions of stars up there, doesn’t it make you feel so small, so insignificant? Like so much of life is pure chance. Like meeting you was pure chance.”
“You’re never insignificant to me, Vicky,” I say, one arm wrapped around behind her as I gently stroke the outside of her arm as we cuddle up together. “You’re my whole world. I don’t need to look at the stars to wonder about the meaning of life, or what else is out there. I’ve said it before, but I have everything I need right here.”
She leans up, rolling towards me to look directly into my face, her chin resting on my chest, the moon illuminating her beautiful green eyes. “I love you, Chris,” she says sincerely, her warm breath visible in the cold night air.
“I love you too,” I reply, enveloping her in a deep embrace. Joy and an overwhelming love seeping out from my heart enveloping us both.
We’re wrapped up like cocoons against the cold. It’s the evening of New Year’s Day, a new uncharted, exciting, yet uncertain year stretching out ahead before us. A fresh year inviting us to make something of it. We’re lying outside on sun-loungers in the garden at Wootton Bassett, snuggled deep inside warm blankets, duvets and pillows as we gaze starwards, hot toddies and our love for each other keeping us warm. We’ve just come back together after spending Christmas and New Year apart.
I spent Christmas with my grandparents, joining my UK based family and my sisters in Wiltshire. New Year’s Eve was spent with Mellie at the Gray’s, while Vicky spent the Christmas season in the north with her family, driving the long journey south earlier today. It’s the first time I’ve joined my UK based rellies for Christmas and the first time I’ve ever had a cold Christmas. Normally, we’re on the beach playing volleyball or surfing after we’ve had Christmas dinner at home, so it was a new experience to celebrate a traditional English Christmas in cold weather. It’s also the first time I’ve been in a serious relationship with someone that I love over the Christmas season, so as much as I enjoyed spending time with my British relatives, playing charades and watching the traditional family films on the telly after Christmas lunch, the person I really wanted to share it all with was at the opposite end of the country dutifully celebrating with her own family.
“God I’ve missed you, Chris. I know it was only a week but it felt like forever,” she says her head buried deep into my shoulder, the intoxicating byzantine fragrance of her perfume that I now know to be Coco Chanel dances up my nostrils. Instinctively I inhale her deeply. “I have no idea how I’m going to cope when you have to go back to New Zealand again. I just can’t bear to think about it.” Both of us are acutely aware of the red circled date on the calendar in the kitchen that draws ever nearer, alerting us to the date we will be parted yet again.
“You’ll be right, ya olde goose,” I try to lighten the mood. Ya olde goose, having long become my affectionate pet name for her. The truth is, I don’t want to think about it either. It physically pains me to be parted from Vicky, but I have no other choice. “Don’t think about that now. Instead think about our cheeky holiday in Hong Kong next week and be happy for the time we do have left.”
When I leave again it will only be the third time we’ve been parted since we first got together last summer. Once to return home to New Zealand for five weeks and the second was only this past week. I knew immediately, even after those few hedonistic days and weeks together last summer, that I had no intention of breaking things off with Vicky and returning home permanently as I’d originally planned. So my first priority was to change my travel plans to stay in the UK as long as I could. I immediately extended the return leg of my air ticket to its maximum validity to give me time to work on the second priority, which was to find a way to earn some cash to support myself.
So not long after, I called Mike and asked for his advice further, popping up to visit him and Fiona before taking my first tentative steps into the luxury second-hand car market. I’ve since become a slave to the weekly Autotrader, walking every Thursday morning at the crack of dawn to my now friendly shopkeeper on the Wootton Bassett high street, who keeps a copy ready for me coming in, before I spend the next 48 hours hunting out the best deals to buy. Mondays and Tuesdays are the days I visit the auctions, having worked out the best ones to attend. Most people think you need to be a good salesman to make money in this game, but actually the skill is in buying the right stock and at the right price. I’ve walked away from ten times more deals than cars I’ve bought and as a result I’ve made profit or at least broken even on every deal I’ve done in the past six months, making just enough dough to be able to live off. Flipping cars isn’t my long-term plan. I know I won’t be able to make sufficient income to build a life for Vicky and I, but at least it means I’ve found a way for us to stay together in the short-term, giving our relationship the time it needed to develop.
After my first couple of deals flipping cars here, my confidence increased, and I was willing to invest more capital to buy more stock. By then I had researched the possibility to make much deeper margins by purchasing stock in the UK before shipping them back home to sell. In New Zealand it’s virtually impossible to buy luxury European cars, so much of the market is flooded with Australian and Japanese imports and so the demand for high-end/low-mileage top of the range BMWs and Porsches is high. Even taking into account the shipping costs, import tariffs and of course assuming the currency exchange rate stays where it is, I can make sometimes up to twice as much profit with the right stock, than if I continued flipping cars here.
So I invested all of my available capital and Vicky has also given me some of her inheritance from when her grandfather passed away, to purchase four cars initially, arranging the first shipment to coincide with my initial return to NZ when my air ticket ran out in the autumn. Once I arrived it only took me five weeks in total to sell them and bank the profit, before buying a new air fare and returning back to Vicky as fast as was humanly possible.
It’s while I was away that it happened, a one-time thing - a momentary slip. A drunken night out and a moment’s lapse of concentration, fuelled rather than by sexual desire ironically by loneliness and how desperately we missed each other in the here and now.
Obviously, it caused a massive upset and we almost broke up over it, but ironically it was the fact that I did something I vowed I would never do; I read Vicky’s journal, which although she was livid at the time, meant that I was able to understand how she was thinking and feeling and I could understand it from her perspective. Thankfully after a lot of talking and forgiveness we’ve moved beyond that now. It wasn’t nice dealing with the aftermath of an infidelity, there is no doubt that it breaks the fragile bond of trust in a relationship, but I believe we are stronger now as a result. If anything, the real possibility of us breaking up made us both appreciate each other much more. It’s turned what initially started out as a passionate and intense summer romance, into something much, much deeper and much more serious. We both love each other with a passion and an intensity that neither of us have experienced before.
Right now I have another seven cars on their way to New Zealand due to land in Lyttleton in six weeks’ time, and we have one more car to take down to Tilbury docks on the east side of London, the day we come back from Hong Kong. Of the cars I’m taking back with me this time, two were placed to order by specialist car dealers in NZ, the others I’ll need to sell privately once I fly home.
We continue to hug each other, my hand tucking a random strand of hair behind her ear before we lean into each other to kiss once again. As her lips brush against mine, I gently bite her bottom lip, her mouth opening in response to receive me, and I feel her softening into me. A lot has happened in the past six months, but one thing that has remained constant is the unbelievable physical connection between us. I absolutely love watching her lose control as she is beginning to do now as we hug each other tightly and continue to kiss urgently.
I feel her breath quicken, hear the low groan that escapes from her as she responds to my touch. I control her now, the power I hold having increased as our relationship developed and as she continued to open up to me. It’s a visceral response within her, one which I command, and holding that power gives me immense pleasure and a responsibility I hold with great reverence.
It all started way back during that night. Something happened during that night, the night we refer to as our night, when we spent almost all night making love and exploring each other’s bodies a few days after we first got together at Michelle’s 30th birthday weekend. We both felt it, the axis of our respective worlds having shifted. Our energies intertwined in a way that neither of us had ever experienced before, despite the blip a few months ago. I haven’t told her yet, but I intend to marry this woman and for her to become the mother of my children. I made that decision the moment we both recommitted 100 percent to our relationship when I returned in the autumn.
“I’m all in,” she had said at the time, after we’d shouted angrily at each other, before eventually talking everything through in calmer tones. We spent that night sobbing on each other’s shoulders at the trust that had been broken, at the innocence lost, thankfully eventually reaching a place of forgiveness by morning, hugging each other tightly, knowing that we had gone to the brink before making it back safely. Our relationship having just survived the toughest test, at least thus far.
“Likewise, I’ll do whatever it takes to build the trust back,” I responded sincerely.
I haven't talked to her about marriage yet, or for our plans much more than the next six months. I don’t want to scare Vicky as I don’t believe she’s ready to make that level of commitment yet, especially not after what has happened. I sense there is a darkness buried deep within her, there is something in her past she’s not shared with me but despite all her seemingly outward bravado and confidence, she has a very low opinion of herself. But one day when the time is right I plan to whisk her away to The Cayman Islands, propose and slip a huge diamond on her finger. I want the whole world to know that she belongs to me and no one else.
I know I’m not her first serious relationship, but I intend to be her last. I knew she’d had a couple of relationships before meeting me and even though we’d slept together on the air bed on Michelle’s living room floor before our night back here in Wootton Bassett for me at least, that night felt like it was her first time. Not just with me, but her first time ever. Like watching a delicate flower open. I’ve never had a woman respond to me like that. It was, it is, something really very special. As if it was meant to be. As if we are the living cliché of the phrase ‘destined to be together’. The chances of us having ever met does feel like the planets crashed into each other at just the right moment, aligning our worlds and bringing us together. So even though I resist answering Vicky’s questions as we gaze up at the stars, there is a part of me that does believe our stars were aligned and it was destiny that brought us together.
I’m not particularly worldly wise when it comes to the opposite sex, although I know I’ve probably had a bit more experience than Vicky has - in the sack at least. There was of course my first. A quick fumble after a school disco when I was seventeen. A few more fumbles later, but nothing of great significance, then along came Sharon and we did go steady for about a year or so. Sharon was nice, and we got along well, but eventually we bored of each other and we went our separate ways.
I suppose Lyndsey is the woman and the relationship that has shaped me the most prior to Vicky. Eight years older than me, she taught me a thing or two. I suppose I became her muse, as she taught me how to explore and appreciate her body, but she never let me into her mind and that was what fascinated me the most, kept me wanting to go back. She controlled our relationship and I was never able to unravel her. Being older than I, it was never going to work long-term. She needed someone who wanted to settle down, set up home and make babies, and that definitely was not me (at least not with her), so eventually we parted amicably and since then, other than the odd booty call back with Lyndsey and a few short interludes here and there, like the quick root in Greece, there has been no one of substance. No one until Vicky that is.
There’s no doubt that my initial attraction to her was instant and physical. She has such a strong magnetism I just can’t understand why she’s only dated complete wankers in the past. Physically she’s gorgeous, although she doesn’t see it. Her smile has the power to light up any room. I can still remember that very first time I saw her, sat behind her desk at work - all formal and frigid. My first thought was, I wonder what she looks like naked. All smooth cream skin and soft round curves I had imagined, and I wondered what it would be like to take her. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined being with her would be as amazing as it is. We make love virtually every day, often twice, sometimes more, and it’s fantastic. I simply can’t get enough of her. I’ve never had such an insatiable appetite with anyone else. I only have to see a glimpse of a part of her body, never mind seeing her fully naked and my desire is all-consuming. A naked shoulder is all it takes to turn me into a hot-blooded stallion pursuing a mare who’s in heat. I’ve never experienced desire like it. Fortunately, she always responds to my advances but what she doesn’t realise is that just as I have the power to control her own physical desire she also controls mine - just by being who she is.
However, there’s so much more to her than just her smooth skin and soft round curves. She’s also clever, funny, warm, articulate, well-read and cultured - way more cultured than I. She knows things that I have absolutely no idea about, so our conversations are so interesting as we share our very different opinions on a wide range of diverse topics. Everything from politics, to feminism, to sport, to world events, to climate change, music and even the arts - which I know absolutely zilch about. She’s educating me, stimulating my mind in ways and in topics that up until now I’ve been completely oblivious to. Already she’s having an impact on how I see the world around me, which is new and interesting, and I like it. She has changed me and made me a better person.
“Look!” she says pointing to the sky above us, pulling away from our kiss, “…a shooting star. Quick, Chris. Make a wish.” Holding each other tightly, frozen in time, we both make our silent wishes. I know what my greatest wish is, but sadly turning the clock back a few months to make everything right again rather than just repaired is simply not possible. We have to move forward, what other choice do we have? I would love to know what Vicky wished for, but before I have the opportunity to quiz her she turns to look at me, smiling warmly and says, “You know they don’t come true if you tell,” placing her index finger over my closed lips, as if to shhh me, before I can ask.
“Come. Let’s eat,’ I say instead, breaking the spell. “It’s getting cold. Let’s go warm up.” I grab our hot toddies from the patio with one hand as I reach for her hand with my other and lead us back indoors. Back into the warmth of the kitchen. “We’ll finish this later,” I say giving her a cheeky wink.
“I assume you mean the whiskey, Chris?” she teases, knowing full well I’m not referring to our warm winter drinks.
“Yeah right,” I reply, giving her playful slap on the bum as we walk back into the house through the back door.
***
The downforce pins us into our seats as the plane banks a hard right continuing its rapid descent. Vicky’s eyes widen as she looks out of the window beside her, to ascertain the remaining altitude. Her hand reaches across my lap as she searches for mine to hold.
“Whoa, this is incredible,” I say across to her, as I too look out of the plane window at the lines of washing that appear within touching distance. “I’d heard that it feels as if you’re landing on the rooftops, but I didn’t think the buildings would appear this close,” I say, straining my neck to be able to see more.
“I know. Amazing, huh,” she agrees, squeezing my hand as we mentally brace ourselves for the touchdown at Hong Kong International Airport. We’re making good use of the two free flights she’s won in a work competition and we’re using this quick week’s holiday with no work or family distractions as the perfect opportunity to spend quality time together before I must leave her.
Neither of us have been to Hong Kong before, and as the territory is due to transfer back in a few years’ time to Chinese sovereignty from British rule, no one knows how easy it will be to visit after that happens, so it was an easy decision to take the opportunity to visit now. We only have five full days on the ground here, so plan to see as much as we can in that time. I also think after everything that has happened, having a week together without any disruptions is also going to be really important for us, to rebuild that foundation of trust before I go off again and Vicky agreed.
“It’ll be good for us, Chris,” she said at the time. “It’ll be good to spend time together just you and I, after everything that’s happened.”
Mike kindly dropped us off at the airport on Saturday morning as we flew from Manchester airport, only a 45-minute drive from his house. It was great to see him and Fiona again, even if only for the one evening which we spent all together eating and drinking in their local pub. Vicky and I have visited them two or three times over the past six months, enjoying their kind hospitality, and a strong friendship between the four of us has since formed. Mike and I share the same dry sense of humour and a passion for fast cars, and Fiona and Vicky have the same taste in lots of things, starting with wine!
Once we clear customs we head over to Hong Kong Island and our hotel in the North Point area. Both of us stare out of the taxi window taking in all of the architecture and landmarks that speed past. Even at first glance Hong Kong appears to be a city of contrasts. The height of the buildings in Central, visible from Kowloon as we approach the Cross-Harbour Tunnel, the modernity of the skyscrapers contrasting sharply with the traditional bamboo scaffolding that wraps around those still under construction as they grow ever skywards. People seemingly stacked on top of each other. Those with wealth, the office workers and those in Finance rushing along in their expensive tailored pinstripe suits carrying their leather briefcases, contrasting against those sitting on the pavements in their grubby clothes simply watching the world go by. The frenetic mix of neon signs and illuminated billboards covered in branded logos and Chinese lettering plastered everywhere like the biggest uncoordinated Christmas light display, contrasting against the looming grey sky and thick clouds that hang from the heavens above.
Once we reach our hotel, we quickly dump our bags in the room, not allowing ourselves to sit down for fear jet lag will take hold, before jumping on the MTR to Wan Chai in the hunt for somewhere to eat. It’s lunchtime here and even though we’ve had virtually no sleep on the flight over we know we need to keep moving. Falling asleep now, no matter how knackered we feel will guarantee to have us awake at two or three am. After a leisurely wander around the streets of Wan Chai we find what looks like a nice typical restaurant on Ship Street and order dishes from the picture menu that don’t look too strange for our western tastes. (Only later do we discover that one of the dishes which we’d assumed to be chicken turned out to be diced pigeon, even if it was delicious!)
We arrive back at our hotel in the middle of the afternoon and there is a message waiting for us from Timothy to call him at his hotel. He’s over here on business for the week and has offered to show us around. I’m not that keen. I’d rather have Vicky all to my myself for the full week, but I know Vicky values his friendship and for some reason feels obliged to be nice to him. I know she’s indebted to him for giving her a roof over her head when she needed it once, but I also know that Jeremy is still Tim’s friend and it is through Tim that Jeremy and Vicky originally met. So even though Tim has given me no reason to think otherwise, the fact is I don’t trust him. Vicky just doesn’t appreciate how attractive she is, and I simply can’t believe that any other red-blooded males are not as equally attracted to her as I am, or that he might try and persuade her to dump me and reconcile with Jeremy. I head to the bathroom as I hear Vicky on the telephone calling him back.
“Hi, Tim, it’s Victoria. I got your message.”
“Yes, yes it was fine. Long and a bit tiring, but fairly straightforward. I tried to blag an upgrade but all we were offered was a free glass of bubbles. I know business class is often full on this route, as you well know.” She’s obviously filling him in on the details of our flight over. “Well, that sounds like fun. We’d love to. I think we’re just going to chill out tonight, we’re both a bit knackered and fighting jet lag. Hopefully we can stay awake long enough to sleep through tonight. Anyway, that all sounds great and we’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I come out of the bathroom just as Vicky is putting the phone down.
“Who will we see tomorrow night?” I ask, buttoning up my flies as I walk into the middle of the room.
“Tim, silly. Who else did you think I was talking to? He’s booked us a table at Planet Hollywood. He’s going to meet us there. Should be good fun. I haven’t seen him since before Christmas, so it’ll be nice to catch up.”
“And what makes you think I want to spend an evening with him at Planet Hollywood?” my tone confrontational. It’s intended to be. Vicky walks towards me, throwing her slender arms round my neck, pouting her lips, attempting to draw me into her.
“Don’t be like that, Chris. Don’t sulk. You knew we planned to hook up at some point over the week. What have you got against Tim anyway? You used to like him.”
“Yeah well, things change. People change.” I peel her arms away from my neck, as I turn my back to her and flop onto the bed.
“Well you’d better get your glad-rags on tomorrow night, as we’re planning to go for cocktails at the Peninsula Hotel afterwards. Then on Wednesday night he’s offered to take us to Happy Valley. I think his bank have got some sort of corporate hospitality deal there, so look grateful when we go,” her words sounding more like a warning than an invitation.
“We’ll see,” is all I offer in return, still sulking. I really don’t want to share Vicky with anybody while we’re on this trip. Doesn’t she appreciate how precious our time together is? Why would she not want to spend every available minute just with me? She’s looking over at me, her arms folded watching my body language. I don’t want a row. We’re both tired. It’s been a long 24 hours but I really, really don’t want to meet up with Tim.
“Budge over, I can’t keep my eyes open. I think I’m going to have a little nana-nap to keep me going.” She uncrosses her arms, coming to lie next to me.
The closeness of her instantly alerts my senses. I can’t help but inhale her scent, a mix of pheromones and perfume which smells of exotic spices and jasmine, as I feel the familiar pressure in my groin as I grow hard. I’m annoyed that my body betrays me. I’m trying desperately to stay cross with her, so I close my eyes as I attempt to detach myself from her alluring powers, but I can still feel the intensity of her stare as she continues to look at me, mischief written all over face. She clearly has no intention of going to sleep for a ‘nana-nap’, rather she knows the easiest and fastest way to win me over and draw me out of my grumpiness.
Lying on her side, she reaches up with her free hand seductively unbuttoning my shirt before allowing her fingers to creep inside the linen. My body comes alive instantly. My skin charged with electricity, every nerve ending on fire as her slender fingers expertly trace the definition of my chest. She playfully tweaks a nipple making me inhale sharply. Before I have a chance to exhale and catch my next breath, her fingertips glide purposefully down my torso, lightly tracing the soft down of dark hair that leads an inviting trail south from my navel. Expertly she unbuttons my Levi’s as her hand reaches further south still. I let out a deep moan as I feel the strain in my groin harden further. She has me in her grasp, my desire now entirely in her hands as she takes complete control.
The next morning, we decide to explore on foot, ticking off some of the major attractions as we go. Not surprisingly we’re awake early, jet lag waking us up long before dawn, so we grab an early breakfast, before catching the MTR to Central, wandering around the main business district and craning our necks as we stare in awe at the skyscrapers. From there we catch the famous Star Ferry across to Kowloon before browsing the shops that line the length of Nathan Road. We have an errand to run whilst we’re here. The pearls that Vicky was given by her mum and stepdad for her 21st birthday need repairing, the safety clasp on the necklace having broken. As her mum and stepdad originally purchased them from a store on Nathan Road, Vicky has brought the necklace with her in the hope we can find the original store and they can repair it. It doesn’t take us long to find the right jewellery store and as she’s discussing what needs repairing with the store manager, I drift over to where the diamond rings are located. Looking through the glass counter-tops, hundreds of diamonds sparkle back at me, enticing me with their clarity and beauty and I find myself wondering which one would suit Vicky’s slender fourth finger.
“Oh... what are you up to, mister?” Having finished with the store owner and depositing her pearls for repair, she has come over to where I’m standing, wrapping her arms around me from behind, her chin looking over my shoulder at the glittering display.
“Nothing,” I say, a little bit too quickly, as if I’ve just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, turning around swiftly so that I’m facing her. “I was just imagining which diamond would look best on your finger.” I smile warmly registering the shock in her face, her eyes widening as she ponders the meaning of my words.
“Now don’t be getting ahead of yourself,” I add quickly, kissing the end of her nose, “I’m not suggesting I buy you a ring right now… but I intend to one day,” I say, gazing into the deep pools of her green eyes.
“I think I’d like that,” she says tentatively, a small smile on her lips. “One day Chris… just not quite yet.”
“Understood,” I reply calmly. “So I suppose there’s no harm in looking, is there?” I reach for her hand, holding it tight as we both turn back towards the glass counter, giggling like teenagers, eager to explore the different cuts and clarity of diamonds and for her to try on a couple of rings.
After such a blissful afternoon, I decide quite firmly that I do not want to go out with Tim tonight, instead I’d much rather find a nice romantic restaurant with a good view of the harbour and spend the evening relaxing with Vicky, drinking wine, eating fine food and soaking up the view directly in front of me as well as the one of Hong Kong beyond the window.
“But we have to go, Chris. We made a promise,” Vicky says, our row beginning to escalate. She’s showered and is almost ready, and I’m still lying on the bed in the clothes I’ve been in all day, as I refuse to get changed, making my intentions clear.
“No, Vicky, you made a promise. You didn’t even consult me. You decided that we should go out together as a cosy three-some. Well I’m not going,” I shout back at her. I’m hoping - no, I’m expecting - that now she’s understood how strongly I feel about this, she will back down and ditch Tim tonight in favour of spending the evening with me. What I’m not expecting is for her to be as stubborn as a mule and to dig her heels in further.
“Fine. If that’s how you feel, Chris. Stay. Don’t come. But I’m damn well going. I made a commitment to Tim and I’m not standing him up. Stay here and sulk if you want to. I really don’t care.” And with that, she picks up her bag and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her, her scent still hanging in the air. Hot anger pulses through my veins as I’m still partly in shock that she didn’t stay. It’s ridiculous really. I know I’ve got nothing to worry about, especially with Tim, but my jealousy consumes me. It doesn’t help that she looked stunningly beautiful tonight. Dressed in a classic but tight little black dress, her gorgeous long legs encased in black stockings and spiky high heels. She has the power to stop traffic looking like that, even though she doesn’t realise it.
Every time we’ve been out together, she seems oblivious to the attention or glances that she attracts. It’s almost like she has an undeveloped understanding of the male species, like she was brought up in a world completely devoid of men. Her blindness to her own attraction is one of the qualities I love the most, but it also makes me question her judgement of men and her ability to read their intentions.
I rub the side of my temples in anger and frustration. Anger that she chose to go without me, frustration that I’ve let my woman go on a night out in a strange city and unchaperoned. God, what if something happens to her? I would never forgive myself. Why is she so bloody stubborn? It infuriates me!
The hours tick slowly by as I wait for her to return. With each passing minute my jealousy and paranoia intensify. I can’t stop the images that whirr through my mind of every possible horrific scenario. She’s been hurt. She’s got lost, robbed, or been kidnapped. Tim has devoured her and despite her initial protests, eventually her resistance wanes and she sleeps with him. Or even the potential that she doesn’t come home at all, either because she’s still so angry with me, or because she can’t because she physically can’t. I can’t stop my mind conjuring all the worst case ‘what ifs’ which only magnify my own insecurities. I know I’m driving myself crazy focusing on these thoughts, but I can’t help it and although I’m aware that I’m rocking uncontrollably as I continue to sit in the dark and wait, I can’t stop. The tension, fear and rage increasing with every passing second.
Eventually at 1am, I hear the click of the hotel door unlocking as she walks back into our room, casually throwing her bag down as she walks towards me, a warm smile on her face. Although my heart wants me to leap up and hug her tightly, relief that she’s returned safely, instead I allow my head to rule, and I hear a voice I don’t recognise shout venomously,
“Where the fuck have you been, Victoria?”
The shock on her face is evident, her eyebrows rising in response to the accusing tone of my voice. I watch her take a long slow controlled deep breath, her eyes locking with mine in a steely stare, challenging me.
“You know where I’ve been, Chris,” her tone resolute. “Look I’ve had a lovely evening with Tim - he passes on his regards by the way, I told him you weren’t well - so don’t go spoiling it by being a twat. I’m tired. My feet hurt, and I just want to go to sleep.” Having made her point, she kicks off her high heels and flops down onto the bed next to me.
I instantly stand up, so that I tower over her. I’m so angry my body is shaking. I can feel my right hand instinctively clenching into a fist by the side of my body as I grapple with my primal fight or flight response. How can she be so flippant? So dismissive of my needs? So dismissive of me? I needed her with me tonight and instead she chose someone else over me.
“Well if you enjoyed his company so much, then why don’t you spend the whole fucking week with him?” My arms shudder by the sides of my body as I remain rooted to the spot. “I’ve called Cathay Pacific and changed my flight to go home tomorrow, so you can do what the fuck you want for the rest of the week. Spend it all with your precious Tim if you want. I don’t care.” I’m bluffing, but that gets her attention.
“You’ve done what?” she looks at me sharply, taking in not only my words but how severely my body is shaking with uncontrollable rage. I’m aware I’m towering over her, yet still I maintain my threatening stance. I also notice her eyes travel down my arms noticing the clenched fist by my right side.
“I’ve called Cathay and changed my flight. I’m going home tomorrow, so you can spend the rest of the week with your precious Tim if you damn well want to.” I’m not sure what reaction I was expecting by threatening her with a non-existent ultimatum. I’m not sure if I want to make her cry, force her into an apology, or for her to stand and fight. I think what I really need, is for her to beg me to stay. To show me that she really does need me and would always choose me, despite everything. She stands up now so that we are facing each other, the anger rising in her cheeks as she glares back at me, pointing her finger in my face as she speaks.
“What the fuck, Chris? Why on earth would you do that? What is your problem? You knew I’d spoken to Tim before we came out here and that we’d planned to meet up. If you didn’t want to come tonight that’s fine, I’m not your bloody keeper but you damn well cannot tell me who I can and cannot see or spend time with. What is it with you? After everything we’ve been through, why are you not able to trust me?” her tone accusatory.
Without realising it, she’s hit the nail on the head. I want to trust her, I really do, but I’m insanely jealous.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I do trust you, Victoria,” using her name in full, my tone softening slightly, my clenched fist relaxing for the first time since her return. I move my hands to the outside of her arms gripping her firmly. “I just know what men are like and I don’t trust them around you. You’re so gorgeous, Vicky, it would be impossible for every man to not want you. It’s them I don’t trust, not you.”
She closes her eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath in as if absorbing what I’ve just said.
“But you can’t stop me being around every man on the planet, Chris,” her eyes pleading with me, her voice now soft and as smooth as silk. “I know what men are like too,” she raises her eyebrow at me with her last comment, the meaning crystal clear for both of us, “and if this is going to work… if we’re going to work, then you’re going to have to trust me. OK? Otherwise by default, even though you’re saying you trust me, by your actions you actually don’t.” She now puts her own hands on my hips as we continue to stand facing each other. “Look, let’s take a breath. We’re both really tired, jet lagged, and we desperately need a good night’s rest. Come on, let’s go to sleep and talk about this again in the morning.”
I know she’s talking sense, she’s being the grown-up here and it’s not her fault my jealousy is out of control, so even though I’m not over this and I’m still as tense as hell, I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. “I’m sorry, Vicky” I say softly, “It’s just so damn hard.”
“I know,” she says, “but we will get through this, Chris. I promise. I love you and despite everything that’s happened, you must know that it’s you I want.”
“I do,” I say eventually, my breathing finally slowing to a more normal pace, “... and I haven’t changed my flight. I was just bluffing. I wanted to make you worried.”
“Well you succeeded,” she says, pulling back slightly to give me a friendly punch in my chest, the smile having returned to her beautiful face.
“Sorry,” I offer as way of an apology. “I was just so angry.”
“I noticed,” she says reaching up to kiss me.
I know that this issue is a long way from being resolved but we’ve reached a truce for now at least and if there’s one positive that always comes from having had a heated argument, it’s the fantastic make up sex that always follows. Despite our jet lag or the lateness of the hour, Vicky and I roll around the sheets for the next hour or so, consumed by our hungry, aggressive and needy passion for each other.