Mr Spencer(147)

“Stay out here, please,” I whisper.

“I don’t thi—”

“Stay here,” I cut him off.

I walk through the villa. The small lamps are on, but the main lights are off. It’s just as I remembered it, only a lot sadder this time. He must be asleep. I walk into the bedroom but the bed is empty, still made. He hasn’t been to bed yet but his bags and things are here. I check the other bedrooms and then walk out into the living area.

He’s on the balcony. My heart begins to race as I make my way out there. It’s 4:40 a.m. local time, and the sky is just starting to brighten.

It’s eerily quiet. The fire pit has glowing red embers as the last of the fire dies out, and a bottle of scotch is empty on the table.

Spencer’s not here.

I walk over to the balcony rail and look down at the view over the cliff. All I can see is darkness as the sea breeze whips my hair around. For a long time, I stand and peer over the cliff.

I get a vision of him spending his birthday alone, and my heart hurts.

Wyatt.

I hope he’s with Wyatt. Yes. My hope returns. Hopefully Wyatt and him went out.

I hope they painted the town red.

I’m exhausted, so maybe I’ll just go to bed. He’ll be back soon, I try to comfort myself.

Yes, shower and bed.

I turn to walk inside, and I stop dead in my tracks.

Spencer is sitting in the dark up against the wall, his cold eyes fixed firmly on me.

He has a glass of scotch in his hand.

“Spence,” I whisper.

He glares at me as he sips his drink.

“Spencer.” I smile hopefully. “I’m here, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Get out.” He sneers.

My face falls. “What?”

“I said get the fuck out.” His voice is gravely and distorted. He’s really drunk.

I step back, affronted by his tone. “I understand why you’re angry,” I whisper through tears.

He sips his drink, the look on his face murderous.

“Spence, we can work through this,” I whisper.

He sips his drink again but remains silent.

“I love you.”

“Don’t!” he snaps. “Don’t. Don’t you dare fucking say that to me.”

“It’s true.”

He steps forward and leans in so that his face is only an inch away from mine.

“Get out of my fucking face,” he growls.

Fear runs through me. I’ve never seen him like this.

“Spencer.”

“Get out!” he screams at the top of his voice.

My eyes fill with tears.

I go to wrap my arms around him, but he pulls away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He throws his glass at the wall and it smashes into a thousand pieces.

I put my hands on my head in shock.

From my peripheral vision, I see Anthony sneaking around inside, watching… waiting to see what happens. Spencer is too drunk and way too furious.

“When you’re feeling better, we need to talk please,” I whisper through tears.

“I’ve got nothing to fucking say to you.” He storms inside and trips on the step, nearly falling over. Thankfully, he doesn’t see Anthony, and he disappears into his bedroom. The door slams hard.

I close my eyes as my heart races wildly.

What the hell was that?

Adrenaline is coursing through my body and Anthony comes out. “You can go,” I tell him, embarrassed by what he just saw.

“I’m not leaving you here with him in that state.”

I sit down at the fire pit and stare at the red embers. The sun is coming over the horizon now. I pick up a blanket and wrap it around me. It’s cold and chilly… just like my welcome.

How hurt must he be to be acting like that? That is as far from his personality as he could possibly be.

What have I done?

For half an hour, I stare at the fire, my mind in overdrive. Eventually, as exhaustion begins to take over, I can’t fight my eyelids any longer. I go inside to the bedroom to find Spencer naked and fast asleep on his back.

I walk back out to Anthony who is on the sofa. “He’s asleep. You can go sleep in the spare room at the end of the hall. I’ll sleep in the other one.”

“You sure?” He frowns.

I nod and take his hand. “Thank you for looking after me so well.”

He smiles sadly and then smirks as if remembering something. “Where the fuck is Wyatt?”

“Hopefully he’s having more fun than we are.”

He chuckles. “This is one fucked up New Year’s Eve.”

I smile. “Right?”

He gets up and walks in to check on Spencer before he walks around and locks everything up.

“Goodnight, Charlotte,” he says.

“Goodnight.” I sit for a long time and watch the sun slowly rise through the windows. It’s like the world has gone into slow motion, and I know more than anything that I need to make this right. I walk into Spencer’s bedroom and take a long hot shower. Once clean and naked, I crawl into bed beside him.

He smells like he’s tipped a bottle of scotch over his body. I could get drunk from the fumes alone, but I don’t care. I wrap my arm around him and put my head on his shoulder, throwing my top leg over his. I gently kiss his chest, and with the familiarity of his warm body up against mine, I drift into an exhausted slumber.