When he’d made this deal, he’d presumed he’d almost enjoy putting her through this, but for whatever reason, he had to admit to himself now that the opposite was true. She was hurting, and he wasn’t enjoying that. He was hating it.
‘Great,’ he said, adopting the same, nonchalant tone, despite the turmoil of his thoughts. ‘What time?’
‘Nine o’clock.’
He nodded once, trying to think of something to say to fill the silence. An explanation or apology, but both died on his lips.
She glanced at him, though somehow he felt more as though she was looking through him. ‘I’m going out—shopping. I’ll be back before nine.’
He watched her leave, and told himself he was relieved. This version of Annie was like a knife being dragged over his flesh; she made him feel things he didn’t want to face. Better to spend time apart than face that guilt front on, even if that made him a coward.
Five nights and five very public dates later, Theo had to admit—to himself at least—that he was at his wit’s end. Annie had played the part of doting wife to perfection, but only for as long as they were in public. The minute they were collected by his driver, and nestled in the privacy of his car, the mask dropped, and she was back to icing him out, almost like she wished he didn’t exist.
Except she didn’t do anything quite so overt. She was still polite to him, speaking if he asked questions, offering cool smiles, and she still slept in their bed, albeit huddled to one side of it. But she’d pulled a shield over herself, and no matter what he said or did, he couldn’t crack through it.
Worse than having her break up with him because her parents had demanded it was this: living alongside her quiet, brutal contempt. Knowing that she was choosing to ice him out, not because her parents didn’t see any value in him, but becauseshedidn’t. He was in freefall, and all of his usual anchor points were insufficient to stop it. Just looking at her made the whole world lose its shape.
The following night, when Annie announced yet another public engagement—this time, the opening of a restaurant followed by drinks at the pier—he’d almost snapped at her that he was sick of being dragged around town for the sake of photographers before remembering that it had beenhisrequirement, not hers. She was simply living up to it.
When she appeared in the living room in yet another stunning dress that showed way too much skin, he ground his teethtogether and tried to ignore how much he wished they were just staying home.
They’d made their point. Their photograph had been splashed over the tabloids. Everyone knew about their marriage.
‘Can you be bothered going out again?’
‘I wasn’t aware I had a choice.’
His gut felt like it had been washed in acid. ‘Don’t say that.’
She tilted her chin, glaring at him. ‘I’m doing what you asked of me. If you’ve changed your mind, fine. I’m just as happy to stay in.’
But she wasn’t happy. Annie was anything but, and it was all because of him. He ignored the pain in his chest, the feeling of something beautiful being tarnished forever. ‘No, you’ve made the reservation. We’ll go out.’ At least when they were out, she pretended to like him. Here, at home, he couldn’t escape her silent judgement, and it was eating him alive.
‘Great,’ she smiled, over-bright and clearly false. ‘I’m ready when you are.’
The restaurant was in an industrial part of the city that had gradually become a haven for exclusive bars and clubs, though Theo couldn’t for the life of him say why. He presumed it had started as some kind of ironic joke, but now some of the most exclusive haunts in the city were in between abattoirs and box factories.
He couldn’t fault the decor of the restaurant though, nor the menu. He sat opposite his wife and made the obligatory small talk, admiring the way she volleyed it back, as though she wasn’t hating him the whole time. They were interrupted often, by people he knew, or she knew, or sometimes, people who knew them both, and for Theo’s part, he was as equally glad for the interruption as he was resentful of it.
It gave him a momentary reprieve, while also allowing him to watch her at work. To watch the way she assumed a role so easily—not because he’d asked her to, this time, but because he suspected she’d been doing it all her life. Being who she was expected to be. Playing a part. Being Mary. Then her mother. Being whatever was needed of her, always putting other people first, always being what was needed, not what she wanted.
Had that been true of her then, too? Had she been that way with him—playing the role of what she believed he wanted?
He’d thought not. He would have sworn the Annie he’d spent time with was true to herself, to the woman she wanted to be, but how could he know? She’d been so perfect for him, their time together so—right—but maybe that was down to her acting skills?
As Annie spoke to the two women who’d approached their table, Theo looked at her without really seeing. No, he was back in time, in the water at the island, making love to his wife in a way that was totally real, without pretense, without make-believe. That had been an act of total honesty—his need, her need, raw desperation and hunger, bringing them together, bonding them in a way he’d resented at the time, because it had been her first sexual experience. Now he felt so differently about that.
Everything felt flipped on its head, and he hated it. He wanted to see the real Annie again, to strip her back to the essence of who she was, before this play-acting had come into the equation.
The waiter appeared to clear their plates, and the women dispersed with a manicured wave in Annie’s direction, which Theo barely noticed.
‘Let’s go back to the island.’ And until he heard himself say it, he hadn’t even been aware he was going to suggest it.
For a second—barely even a second, in fact—her mask slipped, and she looked at him like he’d sprouted two heads.
‘Why?’
Great question.But now that he’d made the suggestion, he found himself wanting to see it through. He leaned forward, an intensity in his gaze, as if he could make her understand if he just looked hard enough. ‘To get away from this.’