Together Apart (2 page)

If only I could. I love him. God, I love him – the very bones of him. But I can’t do it. I can’t marry him. I had to say no and I know, deep down, that it was the right thing to do, even though it’s
killing
me inside. He’ll eventually realise I’m not the kind of
person
he wants to marry. It’ll be better for him in the long run, even if
he do
esn’t know it yet.

I really don’t want to get out of bed because when I do, I’m going to have to break his heart all over again. I just wish things could be different.

Adam switched off the alarm on his phone as it started vibrating next to his head. He heard the shower running in the bathroom and slowly sat up, rubbing his neck. He’d spent the night lying on the lumpy sofa, drifting in and out of a twenty-four-hour news channel before finally falling asleep to the latest bulletin about a political uprising somewhere in the Middle East. He should have booked today off. Going back to the office the day after a holiday was always bad enough, but after the botched proposal and a crap night’s sleep, work was the last thing he was in the mood for. It wasn’t like it was a matter of life and death anyway – not like Sarah’s job. Being a social worker was important. People relied on her every day, and she had the power to change a person’s life with a single report. Meanwhile, he spent his days managing luxury properties and pandering to people who had more money than sense. Actually, he loved his job, but it didn’t suit his mood to admit it.

He yawned as he made his way to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. When Sarah walked in with her dressing gown wrapped tightly around herself and a towel, turban-like, on her head, he handed her a cup.

‘I made you some coffee.’

‘Thanks.’

She slowly took a sip and leaned against the cooker. He watched as she ran her finger around the rim of the cup and bit down on her lip, a telltale sign she was thinking about something. He needed to say something to end the silence that was getting heavier by t
he second.

‘So, I think we need to talk.’

She nodded. ‘I know. I’ve been thinking. Your proposal . . . It made me realise that I can’t do this anymore.’

Adam drew his eyebrows together. ‘Do what?’

‘This. Us.’

His heart almost leapt right out of his throat, and his cheek twitched as he willed himself not to show the alarm welling inside him. He had to stay in control.

‘Are you serious? Forgive me for being a bit dense here, but things were fine before. Are you seriously telling me you want to split up because I proposed? We don’t have to get married; I never intended to put pressure on you. There’s no reason we can’t still be together.’

‘It’s not just the proposal.’ Her voice trembled as she shook her head, looking down into her cup. ‘I just can’t be with you anymore. It’s not fair to either of us.’

Her words hit him as hard as a punch to the gut, and when she looked up at him, her eyes were filmed with tears. There was no way this could really be what she wanted. She might have said the words, but the trembling in her voice betrayed her. This was Sarah. She wasn’t a callous person. There was no way she’d throw away their relationship like it meant nothing, whether it was fair or not.

‘I’m going to be late. I need to go.’ Her voice hitched, and she put her cup on the side.

‘You can’t just say that and leave. We have to talk.’

‘I can’t. Not right now. Maybe later.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but I really have to go.’

She left the kitchen, and he watched her go. What the hell was that? He wanted to hear her reasons. An explanation. Anything. Not to be dumped as if the last year hadn’t even happened. So he’d proposed – so what? Wasn’t that what you were meant to do when you loved someone? Him proposing made more sense than her saying she wanted out of their relationship straight away without any explanation.

He slammed his mug on the side and headed to the bathroom for a shower. The room was dense with steam, and traces of the scent of Sarah’s citrus shower gel lingered in the air. It made no sense. Things had been good between them – really good, in fact. At least, they were for him.

Had she met someone else?

He shook his head. He had no reason to suspect she’d cheated, but it had to be something. Maybe she’d never really loved him at all. Why else would a marriage proposal lead to a break-up? He shook his head again. No. There was no way he’d imagined the way they were together. She loved him; he was certain of it. And besides, it sounded like she was hiding something from him. She could be a bit cagey about things sometimes, but he’d never pushed her to talk about anything she hadn’t wanted to.

He swiped his palm across the condensed mirror and looked at his blurred reflection. Whatever she was using as a reason not to be with him couldn’t be that bad. He loved her, and he knew she loved him back. As far as he was concerned, that had to be worth fighting for.

3.

A
dam opened the door to the penthouse flat and stepped back to let the prospective tenant in. What was his name, again?
Something
Russian, he was sure. As whatever-his-name-was poked his head around the door to the master bedroom, Adam tried to inject himself with enthusiasm. The penthouse was the star
apartment
and at sixteen hundred pounds a week, it couldn’t be left to sit empty.

‘What are the other tenants like?’

‘Quiet,’ Adam replied. ‘Professionals, mostly.’

‘Any students?’

Adam was about to reply when his prospective tenant’s phone rang. Thankfully, he answered using his full name: Nicholas Aleyev. Adam jotted it down on his notepad. He’d known it was something Russian, and at least he’d be spared any embarrassment about
forgetting
his name. He looked at Nicholas’s loafers, so polished he probably checked his reflection in them every morning.
He’d fi
t right into this place. The apartments started at five hundred pounds a week, and for most of the tenants, it was pocket change. They were the powerhouse of the economy – bankers, lawyers and media types. Some were arrogant tossers who looked down at him like he was something on the soles of their shoes, but the majority were actually quite sound. It was obvious Nicholas would fall into t
he
arroga
nt tosser
camp. Adam could tell by the way he turned the corners of his mouth down when he looked in the cupboard at th
e fo
lded linen. Egyptian cotton clearly wasn’t good enough for him. He probably wanted sheets of hand-extracted silk, woven by flaxen-haired virgins in the Himalayas who were raised on a diet of honey and yak’s milk. Were there yaks in the Himalayas? He was sure he’d seen a documentary about them once.

‘So, students?’ Nicholas put his phone back in his jacket pocket and looked at Adam.

The student tenants were mostly from Russia and the Middle and Far East, tenants whose parents paid for their rent annually, and he’d never received any complaints about them. Telling Nicholas that would probably be reassuring enough, but then if he let the apartment today, he’d have to do all the paperwork to go with it.

‘On second thought, it doesn’t matter. I want to be closer to the West End.’

Adam nodded, although, seeing as they were on Great
Portland
Street, it wasn’t possible to get much closer to the West End. Clearly, his hesitation had put Nicholas off. He shook his hand before leading him out of the block. He’d had the opportunity to get the penthouse let, but he’d allowed it to slip through his fingers, and what was worse was that he didn’t care. For the first time in his career, he had no drive. He seemed incapable of doing anything other than asking questions about why Sarah wanted to end their relationship, and they were questions he didn’t have answers to. It was a miracle he’d even managed to get this far into the
working
day at all.

As he sat back at his desk, he clicked through to his calendar and scowled. He’d arranged another viewing for that afternoon, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. He would cancel and
rearrange
it for next week, when, hopefully, he’d have more enthusiasm. It was better than conducting a half-arsed viewing. The last thing he needed was to get sacked.

7 September, 7.45 p.m.

Why do I do this job? Sometimes it just seems like it’s all for nothing. Today, I went to visit Becky, and after weeks of parenting classes and counselling, she’s started seeing her ex again. Apparently, things have changed. He’s like a different man, and they’re trying to make things work – she didn’t need my help. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve heard those words before. I saw how she winced when she sat down, and even though I could see the fear in her eyes, I knew she wouldn’t admit the truth because she knows full well what would happen if she did. I looked at Kyle as he played with his toy car in the corner of the room, and my heart just sank. I can’t see this heading anywhere other than a public law case. Kyle will be just another child in the system, and in a few years, a file with his name on it will probably land on my desk, just like the ones that did this morning. Abuse, drug use, neglect. It’s always the same – a never-ending trail of shattered hopes and dreams.

At least it’s not just me who feels like this. I had lunch with Ruth today, and she’s not doing any better with her cases either. Out of everyone here, she’s the only one I’d call a friend. It’s nice to have someone to talk to without worrying about coming across as too soft to do my bloody job properly. Of course, she asked how Santorini was, and of course I didn’t tell her the truth because if I did, I would have had to explain why I said no to Adam. It would all get too messy.

I suppose work has taken my mind off things, though. I’m just wondering how long I can avoid going home. I finished writing up my reports an hour ago – all I’m doing now is killing time. I even called Claire, like an idiot. Even as I left her a voicemail, I asked myself why I was doing it. It’s not like she can do anything to help, and even if she could, it wouldn’t be fair to dump my problems on her. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. Anyway, she’s probably living it up in Hong Kong or Dubai, or somewhere equally glamorous.

I can’t stop thinking
what if ?
What if I’d said yes? What if I’d opened up to him? What if he’d understood and still wanted me anyway? What if he’d never proposed at all? I don’t even know why I’m thinking like this; it’s irrelevant and I can’t let Adam see my doubts. I need him to think I’m just being heartless; otherwise, it’ll just make things so much harder. It’s better that way, for both of us.

If I’m feeling lost and confused, then God only knows how Adam is feeling.

‘So, how are we going to do this?’

Adam flinched at the hard edge to Sarah’s voice. When she’d left for work that morning, he’d been convinced that she didn’t really want to break up. He’d seen something in her eyes that made him think she was unsure or even bluffing. But now? He looked at her as she stood by the living room door, looking like she’d stepped right out of a boardroom in her smart trouser-suit.

‘Do what?’ he asked, wishing he could stop the conversation right now. When she’d said they’d talk later, he’d hoped it meant they’d actually
talk
, that she’d explain why his proposal had made her want to split up, but he could tell by the way she was ke
eping he
r distance that he was in for major disappointment.

‘We’re tied into the lease until the six-month break clause, right?’

‘You want to move out?’ Adam frowned and Sarah shrugged back.

‘Well, we have to do something.’

‘We could try talking instead of fast-forwarding to this.’

Sarah sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. ‘I’m not sure what more there is to say. It’s over.’

‘Because I proposed.’

‘I told you, it’s not just because of that,’ she replied. ‘Things have changed.’

‘What things? You don’t love me anymore? You don’t want a relationship?’ He looked at her and raised his eyebrows, hoping to prompt her for an answer. ‘What?’

‘The second, I guess.’ Her voice was quieter, but it didn’t falter the way it had that morning.

‘Wow.’ Adam nodded to himself in disbelief.

How could she have suddenly decided that she didn’t want to be in a relationship? She hadn’t acted in a way that even so much as hinted at it beforehand. He looked at her again, trying to see how she could have fooled him enough to make him think she was in this for the long haul. Humiliation welled inside him as he remembered the happiness he’d felt walking back to the apartment, despite the botched proposal. He’d fooled himself into thinking she was just shy, that he’d simply unnerved her, but she’d fooled him. And now she was doing it all over again.

He clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his face as neutral as possible. ‘If that’s the way you want to play it.’

Was he being unreasonable? He’d never seen her act like this before, like it was an effort simply to be in the same room with him. He shrugged and looked away from her. If he didn’t, he’d say something he’d regret.

‘I’m not
playing
anything,’ she replied with her eyebrows scrunched together. ‘I’m just trying to be civil. We have to work out what to do next.’

‘You can do what you want. Stay, leave, whatever.’ He set his face as firmly as he could. Of course he didn’t want her to leave, but he didn’t want to speak to her if she was intent on acting like this. Besides, he knew for a fact she couldn’t afford to leave.

‘You know I can’t leave. Not right now anyway. I’ll start
looking
into whether anyone at work has a cheap spare room to rent o
r someth
ing. Do you think the landlord will let us break the lease early?’

Adam shrugged. ‘Maybe, but we’d forfeit the deposit.’

‘Okay.’ Sarah nodded back. ‘So we’ll see what he says, and then I guess we have to wait it out.’

‘Wait it out.’ Adam echoed her words. ‘Anyone would think you’re being kept hostage.’

‘You know I didn’t mean it like that.’

Did he? Since he’d proposed, he wasn’t sure what he knew
anymore
, and his brain couldn’t take much more trying to figure it out. He’d loved how uncomplicated things were with Sarah, but now he felt like he’d been sucked back into his previous
relationships
when drama and stress started to creep in. He peeled himself from the wall he was leaning against.

‘What do we do about the bedrooms?’ she asked. ‘I can take the spare room if you want.’

‘Honestly?’ Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘I couldn’t care less.’

He picked up his keys from the coffee table, and Sarah looked at him with uncertainty in her eyes.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out.’

‘But what about all our stuff ?’

He looked around the living room. Pictures sat in their frames, propped up against the wall, waiting to be hung, and the bookshelf they’d bought just before going on holiday still needed to be put together. The flat was still in the process of becoming their home. When they’d viewed it and signed the lease, all Sarah could talk about was how they’d decorate it and make it theirs. Now she was intent on talking about how to break it all apart.

Adam simply shrugged. Right now, all he wanted was to be alone and to empty his head for a couple of hours. He could imagine that after the conversation they’d had that morning, she’d expected him to press for answers, and he knew his feigned nonchalance must have thrown her, but in a few days, she’d see how unreasonable she was being and she’d change her mind. Time was on his side.

Time might have been on his side, but it was moving slowly. Two days later, nothing had changed, and Adam had taken to stopping in at The Grantley Arms after work – anything to avoid going home to the flat. Since Sarah had started coming home from work late too, he guessed she was doing the same.

‘Same again, please, Mel,’ he said, putting the empty tumbler back on the bar.