Reading · Dark Romance Club

Tuesday and Wednesday pass without incident.

Theo describes his problems at work with his usual exhausting attention to detail, while Noah, one of my youngest patients, presents me with yet another dinosaur drawing.

By the time work draws to a close on Wednesday, I am more than ready to leave. I gather my things and make my way towards reception. I left my trainers at home this morning, so I have no choice but to suffer in my heels.

Maya arrives before everyone else and leaves after them, so I know I will find her there.

She is staring at her computer with a grin on her face.

“Another crisis in the group chat?”

I know she has one with the interns and several members of staff from the other floors. It generally consists of high-level gossip and office nonsense.

“Oh, sweetheart, your timing is perfect. George saw Oscar with a woman at lunch, and apparently they were very cosy. We’re taking bets on how many hours they’ll last.”

Business as usual.

I continue walking, doing my best to remain far away from whatever this conversation is about.

“Have a lovely evening, Maya.”

She realises I am attempting to escape and laughs after me.

“One day you’ll place a bet too, Cait. One day. And when it happens, I will be right here.”

I give a quiet laugh and leave the clinic.

I have lost count of how many days I have spent reminding myself that I need to speak to Tom.

I do not have the energy to break up with him.

It is disrespectful to keep delaying it, but I cannot seem to make myself act. We are already disconnected. He has barely messaged me in days, and I am not particularly eager to contact him either.

All we need to do is acknowledge that the relationship is over.

The blister on my heel throbs as I continue walking. The evening is cold, and my hands are beginning to ache inside my pockets. I pass closing shops and townhouses arranged along the street like perfect rows of pearls.

I cannot face getting on the Tube yet.

I pull my coat tightly around myself.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I did not eat lunch. I do not have the strength to go to the supermarket either.

I am passing Lilibet’s when I remember how much Rosie loves it.

Rosie is my best friend. She grew up in London, but we studied together in Edinburgh. She may be the most entertaining person alive. She also comes to belly-dancing classes with Maya and me.

She works for a consultancy firm only a short distance from the clinic.

I decide I do not want to go home alone and call her.

I need her particular brand of female joy tonight.

She answers on the first ring.

“Hello, gorgeous. How are you?”

The sound of Rosie’s voice immediately lifts some of the heaviness from me.

“I’m fine. Are you still at work?”

“Just about to leave, darling. I’m starving. Shall we get something to eat?”

Precisely the answer I was hoping for.

“I’m standing outside Lilibet’s. I’ll see whether they have a table before it fills up.”

“I’m coming now. Grab us a good one.”

I go inside and explain that we do not have a reservation, but the hostess manages to find us a table immediately.

“Thank you. My friend will be here shortly.”

“Of course. Enjoy your evening.”

Within minutes, I am studying the cocktail menu.

I order a Cherry Martinez and conclude that drinking alcohol on an empty stomach is an appalling idea.

The first few sips are enough to make my head pleasantly light.

I should not be doing this in the middle of the week.

It tastes far too good to stop.

The décor is charming. The royal theme is precisely the sort of thing Rosie adores, so it is no mystery why she loves this place.

The restaurant slowly begins to fill, and I start wondering why Rosie has not arrived.

Something must have come up at the last minute.

Either that, or she has become distracted by her handsome manager again.

The latter seems considerably more likely.

I glance around the room and, unfortunately, spot Oscar with the woman Maya mentioned.

His back is mostly turned towards me, so he does not realise I have seen him.

Good.

Speaking to Oscar is the last thing I want to do tonight.

They appear extremely comfortable together. I ignore them and check the notifications I do not have on my phone.

I text Rosie.

Me: Where are you? I’ve already finished my first cocktail.

When she does not reply, I order another.

The cold glass feels soothing against my heated skin. By now, I am properly tipsy and beginning to feel slightly sick.

I should eat something.

Then I see Tom emerging from the corridor leading to the toilets with a woman.

He bends down and whispers something intimately into her ear. She turns towards him and slowly runs her tongue across the inside of her mouth.

I am very drunk.

I pinch myself to confirm that the moment is real.

Then I narrow my eyes and look again.

Yes.

Definitely real.

Tom grabs her bottom and kisses her with even greater enthusiasm before leading her towards Oscar and his companion.

I recognise the woman from somewhere.

I think she works with Tom.

My heels are becoming unbearable. I bend down to inspect the back of my ankle and discover that the blister has begun to bleed.

There are more important matters to deal with.

I have just found the perfect way to end my relationship with Tom.

There could hardly be a better reason than the scene unfolding in front of me.

More tellingly, seeing him kiss another woman has made me feel absolutely nothing.

I am not angry with him.

They are laughing and pawing at each other a few tables away. Oscar is wearing his usual oily grin. Everything is precisely as it should be.

I find myself questioning, once again, why I ever began dating Tom.

This relationship has contributed nothing to my life except a rusty taste in my mouth.

Yes.

I am going to break up with him now, before Rosie arrives.

I lift my phone, take a photograph of the unpleasant little group across the room and send it to Tom.

Me: I never want to see you again. It’s over, Tom.

A perfectly reasonable message.

It also saves me from having to endure an actual break-up conversation.

I begin laughing to myself.

I really need to eat something.

Tom looks around the restaurant until his eyes eventually find me.

I ignore him.

What can he possibly say?

He is clearly in the wrong.

I expect him to show at least a little embarrassment, but he surprises me by turning back to his companions and continuing with his evening as if nothing has happened.

Rosie, where are you?

I want to leave, but I am too drunk to move and my foot hurts too much to walk.

I am a pitiful sight.

And yet, beneath it all, I feel lighter.

I can hardly be the first woman in history to be cheated on.

I drink some water and begin to sober up.

I also desperately need the loo.

What an extraordinarily stupid evening.

I make my way towards the toilets. The corridor is dimly lit, and I cannot avoid swaying slightly as I walk. Fortunately, I find the ladies’ room without injuring myself further.

Once I have used the toilet, I wash my hands and study my reflection in the mirror.

I press some cold water against my neck and take a deep breath.

The door suddenly flies open.

Tom storms inside.

He looks furious. He is clearly drunk as well, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

For several seconds, he simply stares at me with a strange expression.

Then he grabs my arm.

“You little bitch.”

His fingers tighten around me.

“You don’t get to break up with me as if I wasn’t perfectly justified in cheating on you. And you send me a photograph? You couldn’t even have a proper break-up conversation. What a fucking joke.”

Pain shoots through my arm.

There will be bruises tomorrow.

I cannot believe I have spent a year with this psychopath.

“Let go of me, you lunatic.”

His grip tightens, and he shakes me hard enough to make my teeth knock together.

“You’re hurting me. I said let go.”

Tom does not listen.

“You’re going to regret this. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Before I can understand what he means, he keeps one hand clamped around my arm and uses the other to pull his phone from his pocket.

“Tom, what are you doing?” I twist against his grip, but his fingers only bite deeper into my arm. “Let go of me.”

He jerks me closer, and my breath catches.

“Please. Stop.” I push at his chest with both hands, panic clawing up my throat. “Tom, you’re scaring me.”

He searches through his phone and then thrusts the screen towards my face.

My mind stops working.

Photographs of me.

Naked.

Asleep.

For several seconds, all I can think is how he could possibly have taken them. When did he take them?

Then I remember the beginning of our relationship, when I was blinded by everything I believed he was.

It is true that we have barely had sex recently, but in those first few months, I trusted him.

The anger I feel turns away from Tom and back towards myself.

“I’ll send these photographs to everyone,” he says. “Do you understand me? Everyone.”

Tears sting my eyes, but not because I feel helpless.

Because I am furious.

“If you don’t come back to me and carry on behaving like the little whore you are, everyone will see them. Every single person you know. Do you understand?”

He jerks my arm again and begins dragging me towards the door.

The wound on my heel tears further, and I feel fresh blood against my skin.

We are almost at the door when it suddenly opens from the other side and strikes Tom directly in the head.

The impact forces him to release me. He staggers backwards and raises a hand to his forehead.

A clean, intoxicating scent of cedar fills the room.

I know that scent.

I can manage only a whisper.

“Alexander”

True Affliction - Chapter 4

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