Alan was becoming more and more suspicious, which in turn made Eve more and more uncomfortable. He began asking questions about where Eve was all those nights when she’d claimed she was busy or needed time alone to unwind to meet with him. He was convinced there had been and that there still was another man. As much as Eve wanted to purge that idea from his mind, she knew he would react even worse if she told him that she had been at a nightclub, pole dancing under the very fake name of Trinity.
Still, it was becoming unbearable. Almost every time they would spend time together, he would end up giving her the third degree. Eve piled lie after lie, so much so that even she was losing track of them all, but nothing she said seemed to put Alan’s mind at rest.
They never had a very active sex life, but lately she had taken to initiating intercourse just to shut him up. He never rejected her, and she would always fake her orgasms or pretend that she was making love to Lind. It wasn’t really working, though, because Alan’s mounting frustration resulted in him becoming rougher and rougher in bed, and Lind had always been gentle.
“So, I was thinking tomorrow we might go and visit that Van Gogh exhibition at the County Museum, what do you say?”
Eve looked up from her plate of creamy linguine with prawns. The restaurant was a fancy one, as it always was whenever Alan was involved. High ceilings, vault arcs, and a menu where no dish came at a lower price than $50. She didn’t know whether it was because of her current situation or not, but she found herself increasingly averse to unnecessary luxury.
“Huh?” she said, honestly not having a word of what Alan had just said.
He took a calming breath. “I said, I was thinking tomorrow we might visit that Van Gogh exhibition,” he repeated. “Maybe we could go out for a nice dinner afterwards. What do you say?”
Another nice dinner? The thought alone made Eve’s stomach churn.
“Actually, tomorrow is no good,” she said, picking distractedly at her pasta.
Alan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “And why’s that?”
“I have to help Mom organize her charity lunch for next month.” The lie came to her easily and rolled just as smoothly off her tongue. “But we can do Thursday if you’d like.”
Alan watched her carefully. “I’ll let you know,” he said curtly.
Eve nodded. She put a forkful of food into her mouth. It suddenly tasted like cardboard. She swallowed with difficulty and put her napkin from her lap on to the table.
“Excuse me one moment,” she said. “I need to make a trip to the bathroom.”
Alan gave a very ungentlemanly grunt in response, and Eve had to physically restrain herself from slapping him. Was he ever going to let up? She bit her tongue in order to keep in every unpleasant word that was bubbling to the surface and walked away, her heels clicking on the marble-like floor.
Once in the restroom, Eve splashed some cool water on her face and redid the makeup that she ruined in the process. The water didn’t have the rejuvenating effect that she was hoping for. Then again, nothing really seemed to be able to refresh her and shake her out of the slump of perpetual dissatisfaction she seemed to have hit. She thought of the angry man waiting for her in the main room of the restaurant, and she felt like she could start to cry right then and there in that luxury bathroom.
Technically speaking, she could break off the engagement. Technically speaking, she could quit her job. Technically speaking, she could start from scratch somewhere else. But the more she thought about actually doing it, the more she panicked. She just could not bring herself to let her family down again. She wished she could just escape this glittery, overly formal world that she felt so hopelessly trapped in, but she knew she had obligations.
Taking a deep breath, Eve forced herself to walk out of the restroom and rejoin her fiancé for dinner. She froze in her track once she got to the table and noticed the dark, dark look on Alan’s face. If he had appeared angry before, now he looked downright furious.
Eve frowned in confusion as she resumed her seat. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“You tell me.” Alan’s voice was steely, and his stare was scathing.
Eve suppressed the urge to squirm in her seat. “What do you mean? What happened?”
“I called your mother. It turns out she has everything already sorted for her charity lunch. In fact, she has never asked for your help.”
It was Eve’s turn to be angry. She felt a surge of red-hot rage at the unfairness of it all. “You called my mother?” she said, incredulous. “How dare you? How dare you check in on me? How fucking dare you?”
Alan’s expression was cold. “Calm down, sweetheart. You really have no right to be upset.”
“I have no right?” Eve stood, appalled. “I have every right, you pompous son of a bitch!”
Alan looked around. “Sit back down. You’re making a scene.”
Eve could actually feel her eyes flash in utter fury. “I don’t give a fuck—”
Alan reached out and grabbed her wrist. She tugged her back down onto the chair. Even after she had landed hard on her butt, he didn’t let go. “I said, sit down,” he hissed.
Eve stared at him, as if she were looking at a stranger—in fact, that was exactly what she felt. She had never seen Alan so angry. She didn’t even suspect he could get to this stage. His grip around her wrist was fierce and strong as iron, and she could already feel a bruise forming. Quickly, her anger changed into fear, squeezing her stomach.
“You’re hurting me,” she said quietly, carefully.
Alan smiled cruelly at her. “To quote you, my dear, I don’t give a fuck.” He gave her one final squeeze and finally released her.
Eve automatically rubbed her wrist with her other hand.
“You lied me,” he said. “Again. Why? Where are you going tomorrow? Who is he?”
Eve swallowed. “Alan, I told you, there is no one.”
And here they went again.