Wait for Me (30 page)

I read the email twice then replied in block capitals on Skype messenger.

Ten seconds later, I received a new message.

After fifteen minutes of silence, I decided to send one last message.

Then I switched everything off, including my brain.

Around four, I was woken by an obviously drunk Sabrina.

“Sophie, wake up.”

“What?” I grumbled, bothered by her beer breath.

“I think Adam's outside, or, at least it might be him, is that his car?” she asked, pulling the curtain aside.

I scanned the street and she was right. A beaming smile appeared on my face.

“Yeah,” she said. “It is him,” she added, screaming now.

“I told you,” Steph yelled from the living room.

I scrambled for my shoes and bolted outside. If anybody were ever to ask me, “Miss Lether, what was the best moment of your life?” I now had an irrefutable answer. It was the magical, pure and childlike joy of finding your presents under the Christmas tree. When a little girl has made a wish, and inside that wrapping is the one thing that she wanted more than anything in the world.

I crossed the road, utterly overwhelmed. A few inches away from his car, I tried to contain myself. I peered through the window and saw him. He smiled.

“Did you figure out the answer?” I asked, trying to stay cool and refrain from throwing my arms around him as he stepped out of the car.

“To whether I'm an idiot?” he asked.

“Yeah, that too,” I laughed. “You know this is the best moment of my life.”

“Mine too,” he whispered, and held me tightly.

Following those months of absence, we kissed for the first time.

“Do you want to come inside?” I asked, stretching my feet back to the ground, still clutching him.

I saw a shade of guilt on his face. “Sophie, I was trying to move on and I need to confess—”

“I know, Adam,” I muttered, brushing his cheek with my fingers. “Whoever you've been with, I don't care, but I don't want to know.”

He closed his eyes, perhaps in disbelief at my pardon. But what else could I do? He was there, he wanted me back, and I felt the same. Nothing else mattered.

“I don't deserve you,” he said. “I don't know how to make it up to you.”

“Don't tell me anything and I won't ask you anything, just don't push me out again.”

“I thought about you every day, all the time.”

I bit my lip. “Adam, you're here now and that's all I need.” I gave him a delicate kiss, which instantly ignited.

“I can come inside?” he asked, taking me in his arms.

“Of course,” I answered, clutching onto him like a child.

As usual, Sabrina and Steph were at the kitchen table smothering bread with chocolate spread.

“Well done, Adam!” said Sabrina, sliding the jar towards me.

He shook his head in amusement, grabbed my hand and kissed it. I lathered two slices of bread, one for each of us.

And I was right there in the moment: the four of us, gathered around the table. All the pain and the worry left outside, anywhere, everywhere – except in that room.

After that night, I returned to Adam's apartment and we picked up right where we left off. The new job kept me constantly busy as Mrs Bradford had given me a free rein to re-organize the whole antique warehouse. I started by planning a three day jumble sale. We had a few buyers and managed to get rid of a lot of junk to make space for new works. In the end, we had a considerable sum of money. We managed to settle the debts and had enough left to give the place a makeover.

Adam made our reunion official, so to speak, by finally introducing me to one of his friends, Seth. Seth was his business partner, and the cheating dad I had seen at Lucas' café a while back. I also met Seth's wife Annabelle, then John, a friend from college who he now did business with. There was also James, a chef. The rest of the people I got to know were just a part of the business circle. They were all obliged to attend cocktail parties every now and again. Every event was the same: lounge music and rivers of champagne.

The fact that I was there as his partner also confirmed, officially, that he was off the market. Nevertheless, he was ever surrounded by a host of beautifully sculpted parlor girls. I wasn't jealous; Adam didn't even feign attention. At the very most, he would indulge in polite conversation.

Adam found these events even more boring than I did. He would be talking to some big shot whilst his expression told me something completely different.

During one of these unremarkable events, I was perched on a stool talking inanely to Seth's wife, when suddenly a hand lightly touched my back. I immediately turned and found myself before Tom.

“Hello Sophie,” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek.

I slid off my perch and dug my heel into his foot. He didn't even flinch. He merely smiled at my cocktail companion.

“Hello, Annabelle.”

“Hello, Tom,” she replied curtly.

I searched for Adam in the crowd.

“Are you looking for Adam?” he asked. “He's on the terrace. He can't see you.”

I glanced outside and spotted him, deep in conversation with a mountain of a man. Annabelle left to warn him. Alone, Tom leaned in closer to talk. I remained motionless and impassive.

“I know what happened after our little moment,” he said.

I smiled contemptuously. “Then you'll also know that we're back together now. Really, Tom, you're pathetic.”

He took my face in his hands and drew closer still.

“I still think about that kiss, the taste of your lips.”

“You're sick,” I said, moving away.

I took a step back and Adam grabbed my hand, pulling me behind him.

“Tom,” said Adam, politely.

“Adam,” said Tom, with an identical tone.

They both retained a professional composure under the prying eyes of the party. Nobody would have suspected the hatred and the sorrow that burned through their blood.

“It's been a long time,” said Tom. “I was just keeping Sophie company… she was all alone. You still have that nasty habit of abandoning your women. You ought to be more careful,” he slighted.

“I'm glad to see you, and how nice that you remember Sophie,” Adam replied.

“Yes, I remember her very well,” then he leaned into Adam and whispered something in his ear. Although I could not hear, I knew that whatever he said would be enough to spark the flame. Adam's grip began to crush my hand.

“I hope I didn't twist the knife,” said Tom, resuming his posture.

A moment later, Seth appeared beside Adam. Only then did he release my hand.

“Sorry to interrupt, but a few of the guests are looking for Adam.”

“No problem, I was just leaving.”

“See you around, Sophie,” said Tom with a wink.

I looked down. I wanted to leave – immediately. Before continuing his networking, Adam left me on a bench, watchfully guarded by Annabelle and Seth. I stayed there for the whole night whilst he worked the room, praying that logic and reason would prevail over whatever Tom had provoked. I was ready for a hard time back home. But then maybe he wouldn't say anything? Or maybe he would leave me again?

Finally alone in the car, I found the courage to speak. “Are you okay?” I asked, taking his hand. He pulled away.

“We'll talk at home.”

I watched the city through the window and sighed. What had Tom told him? What the hell could he have whispered?

He dropped me off and went to park the car, ordering me to wait for him in the bedroom. I entered the building alone.

Stewart opened the door with his usual smile. I went straight to the elevator without waiting for Adam. I imagined he would give him a tip. The panel of lights was making me anxious. For some reason, I was in a hurry for events to unfold, whatever might be on the horizon. I wanted to recover my sweet and caring Adam.

I opened the door, placed my coat on the rack, and entered our bedroom.

I got undressed, unclipped my hair, freshened up and got ready for bed, waiting for him by the window. There was still no trace of him. I began to worry. After what felt like an eternity of fear, I moved into the living room where I found him on the coach, still wearing his coat. He was holding a glass of whiskey, swirling the ice.

“Adam,” I struggled.

“You want to fuck, Sophie?” he asked, barely looking up.

“If you want to, then… sure,” I replied, definitely unsure.

He set his glass on the table, stood up to remove his coat and draped it over the cushions. He reached his hand out towards me and I took it. He drew me closer and I tried to hold him, but he grabbed my head, swiftly kissed me and made me lie down. He whipped off my shirt and jogging pants. His movements were firm and much faster than usual. As soon as he started to touch me, he froze and gave me a stern look.

“Were you this wet for him too?”

“Adam,” I muttered, horrified.

“Did his tongue turn you on?” he asked, still holding my neck.

“No,” I replied, trying to free myself.

“I know it did. I know you wanted him to fuck you,” he said, visibly seething.

I couldn't move; he was gripping me around the shoulders with all his strength.

“We've been through this – nothing happened.”

“And how do you expect me to believe that?” he barked.

“I promise.”

He loosened his grip and stood up straight, then turned away.

“I love you Adam, remember? I'm right here with you.”

Pulling gently, he guided me to his storage room. He seemed calmer, at least on the surface. He found a collar chain in the closet. I didn't object because I thought it might do him good to blow off steam. It was a fragile moment and I didn't want to push him.

He tightened the strap around my neck, hooked me to a beam that ran across the ceiling and gagged me with the rubber ball – my least favorite of all. Between that damn thing and my faulty septum, I couldn't breathe well and he knew it. He also knew that, in order to avoid choking, I would have to concentrate on inhaling to the point where any pleasure was secondary. He had stopped using it for this very reason.

He tightened the leather belts around my ankles and chained them to a set of hooks on the floor, levering my legs wide open.

If all went well, it would be over within the hour. He would ejaculate and then spend the night holding me close, and that was all I wanted.

From a small bottle, he imparted two eye drops and then tightened the chains attached to my collar, immobilizing me.

I did not understand. It was the first time that he had done something like this and his expression was less than re-assuring. In fact, it was completely unreadable.

He placed a band around my face with several clips attached. He prised my right eyelids apart with his fingers and tacked them open, then did the same with the left.

“I want you to see what I've suffered,” he said, an inch from my face.

I quickly exhaled through my nostrils. It was the only way of letting him know I was afraid.

“You humiliated me, and now everybody knows—” he whipped my stomach “… that you want Tom to fuck you,” he growled.

I rolled my eyes in the hope that he would understand my dismay.

“You took the bait like any other whore, and you wanted it,” he said, lashing me again.

I wanted to shake my head in denial but it was hopeless.

“You wanted it, you couldn't wait to feel him slip inside you,” and a third time.

I was beginning to get nervous. He was not moderating his strength as usual; this time he wanted to hurt me. After three more whips he shoved the handle into my dry vagina. I moaned in pain and wrenched to free myself.

Adam took a step back and hit me with again, this time on my back.

“I spent the whole night imagining him fuck you… imagining you enjoy it.”

What the hell did that have to do with me? I was barely more than a bystander. What's more, I hated Tom. I hated him with all my heart.

After yet another strike, he set the whip down and disappeared from the room, leaving me alone in the dark.

As I waited, my breathing steadied. My body was dripping with sweat and the wounds were burning. I had to stay calm – sooner or later he would be back to his usual self. I was sure. Or, I was almost sure. My arms were sore from the unnatural position. The doorbell rang. I heard Adam's voice but I couldn't make out who he was talking to.