Conviction(40)

I send Marcus a text telling him I’ll be down in a minute while I wait for Sophie to pull on some clothes and do whatever she needs to do in the bathroom. She doesn’t need to do a lot to look ready, her eyeliner is tattooed on, her eyelashes are extended and her eyebrows are waxed, tinted and sculpted into a perfect arch. She looks like she’s made up her face to go and do battle with my husband without wearing any makeup at all.

“You okay?” she asks as we head down the stairs, toward the front door, toward Marcus.

“Surprisingly, yeah, I am.”

“Good.” She nods.

“Let’s go deal with the f*cker.”

She opens the front door and Duchess pulls me straight through it and he’s there, leaning against the railings between the path and the road. He’s wearing jeans and a white Ralph Lauren Polo with the collar up. It’s a look I hate. Sophie told him once that all polo shirts should have ‘I look like a cunt’ embroidered underneath the collar, to try and stop men standing them up, but he took no notice, perhaps because he is a cunt. As if reading my mind, Soph whispers in my ear, “Whoop, whoop, cunt alert.” And despite how much it hurts, I can’t help but smile.

He lifts his mirrored aviators onto his head and steps toward me.

“Nina, baby, I’m so, so sorry.”

Sophie steps in front of me. “Stay the f*ck away from her.”

“Stay out of this, Soph. It’s got f*ck all to do with you. Why are you even here?” he asks, gritting his teeth as he speaks to her.

“Don’t talk to her like that. She’s here because I want her here. Sophie stays, or I go. Make up your mind,” I tell him.

We’re standing on the street, right outside one of our salons, in full view of my staff and clients. Without saying a word, I cross over the road and into the park opposite and onto the sectioned off area where I can let Duchess of her lead. Luckily, I brought a couple of carrier bags down with me because the first thing Duch does is take a crap.

“Charming,” I hear Marcus say from beside me. I look around for Sophie and find her sitting on a bench a few feet away.

“We all need to crap, Marcus, it’s a perfectly natural bodily function. What do you want?”

“Nina, we need to talk. I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what happened.”

I turn and look at him. Straight into his pale blue eyes and feel… nothing, absolutely nothing. Not fear, not loathing. Nothing. He could be a stranger to me. With a steady voice that actually amazes me, I say, “You’re here saying sorry and yet you claim that you’ve no idea what happened. If that’s the case, what is it you’re actually saying sorry for?”

He lets out a long sigh, or a huff or just a breath, I’m not sure which.

“I just know… I remember, things got a bit rough. I may have said some things—”

I hear a “Pfft, d’ya think arsehole? Like f*ck you can’t remember,” from Sophie.

I turn and meet his gaze. “You called me a slut and a whore. You told me that you knew that I liked it rough and to take what you was gonna give me—”

He steps toward me shaking his head. “Nina, baby. I’m so sorry—”

I step back away from him and hold my hand out, letting him know to stay back.

“You pulled my hair and you squeezed my face and then when I fought back, when I tried to get away from you, you punched me in the face and you pinned me down and f*cked me.” His mouth’s hanging open, his hand rakes through his hair and he shakes his head.

“No, no Nina. I wouldn’t, I would never—”

I tilt my head toward him, suddenly feeling angry.

“Look at my face, Marcus. Look at my f*cking face,” I snarl at him. “I want you to stay away. Don’t call me, in fact, don’t contact me at all. I’ll be around in the next few days to collect my stuff. I’m moving out.”

“What? Wait, no. No, Nina. Fuck no. You’ve not even given me a chance to explain or say sorry.”

“I don’t care Marcus. I’m done! It’s over.”

He steps toward me again, I step away again. Making the distance between us even further this time.

“Don’t come near me,” I warn.

This time Sophie stands up too.

“I’m not doing this, Nina, I’m not standing in the middle of a shitty dog park discussing our marriage. Now come home and we can sort all of this out.”

“No Marcus. I’m not going anywhere with you. Like I just said, we’re done. I’ll come and collect some stuff tomorrow and I’ll arrange to collect everything else in the week.”

The coldness returns to his eyes. “Fuck you, Nina, f*ck you!”

“If only you would’ve Marcus. If there wasn’t eight-week gaps between each shag, I might’ve been prepared to listen to your bullshit excuses, but we haven’t even got that as a foundation to work on.”

“Eight weeks? Jeeezusss and I thought I was in a drought,” I hear Sophie say and again, I try not to smile.

Marcus swings around and glares at her. “You best stay the f*ck out of my business, Gardner. I bet you’ve been filling her head with bullshit all night. I bet this has all come from you.”

Sophie steps toward him, showing absolutely no fear. “Actually, I think you’ll find this all comes from the fact that you’re not man enough to make love to your wife once in a while, and then when you do, you punch her into unconsciousness and f*ck her against her will… Yeah, I have a feeling that’s definitely where all this comes from, you prick.”