Blazed(54)

The sky outside darkened. The perpetual blackness in my lounge was a good physical manifestation of how we both felt knowing that the other was lost. We lay like any other couple while we still could, wrapped up in a tangle of half dressed limbs. I could have stayed there all night, but it was no good for either of us to drag it out.

"I need to go to Daniel's." Blaze mumbled his acknowledgement but tightened his grip around me, face burrowed in the crook of my neck.

"Let me take you."

"I don't thi—"

"Please. It's on my way to..." I leaned back to look at him. "I have something I need to do." Exhausted, I closed my eyes and nodded. I could give him that much if he needed it. I'd already emotionally disconnected from the whole ridiculous affair. I could look at it that way now— I was that bored of feeling bad about it. This was my usual response to taking a man to bed; this was my arctic chill and I was glad it had finally made an appearance. Blaze was now the same as the rest of them, at least that was what I'd tell myself to get through the days.

Reluctantly, I sat up and let the blood slowly trickle back into my legs before I headed for my bedroom to find some fresh clothes. Over my shoulder, I watched Blaze gather himself together and comb some order into his hair with his fingers. Knowing he had a real comb in a drawer in the bathroom, thoughts of coming home to all his stuff made me feel weighted like lead, forcing me to sit down. I couldn't stand to see it all there when he'd never use it again, but I couldn't watch him pack it all up now.

"Are you going to be, um... busy, for long?"

"What?"

"Your stuff..." That was as far as the conversation went, because he hurtled into the bedroom and rammed back into me with his old sexual aggression until I'd ruined yet another bed set and came violently with a garbled string of expletives. Clearly he hadn't gotten the memo that sex stopped after the break up. Ah well, c'est la vie.





IT WAS LATE when we finally pulled up outside Daniel and Jonathan's place. I'd quickly learned that reminding Blaze that he'd be leaving my flat permanently just got me a good f*cking so took full advantage of it. I'd have been a fool not to, since my usual routine was so shot to shit that I was seriously considering his old celibacy habit. Not knowing how I planned to move forward from the moment he drove off, I figured I'd just start playing life by ear, the way I should have been for years. The heartbreak might just have been the best thing that could have happened to me.

Blaze grabbed my hand when I moved to leave the car and crammed the emerald ring into my palm. "This promise still counts."

"Blaze, I don't—"

"Just the promise, Emmeline. You're not bending to meet my demands and I accept that, like I promised. I respect that you're being true to yourself."

"Okay..." I was actually sort of glad that he was giving it back to me. Considering all the truths it had provoked in such a short time, it felt almost like a lucky charm or some kind of talisman.



"I want to give you something. But I'll be clear and say that it's not a commitment, just a promise."



It was never about effectively collaring me or territorialism, just the promise. Not that he had a leg to stand on when it came to judging how I lived my life. By his own notion, it carried no responsibility to be permanently tied to him one day, just to honour a promise to accept myself. I could do that. I could wear it and hold my head up proudly, saying that I'd walked away because it was the right thing to do.

"Thank you. I really am humbled by the thought and effort you put into getting this for me last week. Really."

"You know, it's still Emmyday." I laughed a little through admiration of his tenacity. The corners of his mouth curved up though his face remained sad. I felt bad for being able to find anything to laugh about when he was so low. "It was worth a shot."

"Tell me that you're going to be okay." He looked beyond despair and so dejected it scared me a little. Finally, I could appreciate how it had been for my family when they had to watch me be patched up and tube fed. I could even appreciate why Hunter had been so angry.

"I'm going to be fine, Emmeline. I can't have it my way— I get it. I need to go and do the right thing." Good. I hoped he'd man up and make his wife's last days happy and comfortable, and realise that she needed him to show her some compassion. She was more than just a bank account or a job, she was a victim who needed his care. "But don't think I've given up on you, Emmeline. Not for one minute. We still have plans for Christmas."

"Of course."

I humoured him for the sake of an easy escape and stole one last kiss before I climbed out of the car and watched him drive off. Our paths were no longer entwined, and no matter how brave a face I put on it, I'd be feeling the backlash for a long time. But I was proud of us both for doing the right thing, no matter how wrong it felt in that moment.





IF IT WASN'T obvious that Daniel and Jonathan were gay just from looking at them, it would have been obvious from their super-modern and freakishly sterile looking loft. It had a masculine base despite the men who lived there, decorated in only pale blues, pebble greys and black surfaces, with their top line electronics as a focal point in the lounge and bulky black leather recliners for gaming. But their girly side shone through in the large crackled glass vases holding long stemmed ornamental flowers and powerfully feminine canvases painted with oriental scenes of manga girls and geishas in bluescale.

I recognised the artwork; it was mine. Their home was like a living testament to my talent and I was still so proud to see it hanging up on every wall. The fact that they were there when I arrived unannounced like this was proof that they didn't just put them up for my benefit.

Daniel buzzed me into the building and rushed to greet me when I reached his front door. It was a welcome distraction to see him look so casual— barefoot in loose grey jogging bottoms and a University Of London sweatshirt when he so loved to suit up.

"I can't believe that still fits you." I took the glass of wine he'd poured for me from his hand and drained it in one mouthful. "Please tell me you have more?"

"Of course. I was warned." He followed me closely when I walked straight into his kitchen to find the rest of the bottle. I was glad to see the usual set up on his granite breakfast bar; several bottles of Chablis cooling in ice buckets, Belgian chocolates and Chicago on Blu-Ray, my secret shame. Daniel was such a mummy's boy it was disgusting, still receiving an allowance like me but choosing to spend it on little luxuries he stockpiled for occasions like these. They usually came at the hands of Hunter, but a broken heart and wounded ego was what it was and healed the same way however it was damaged.

"No Jonathan?"

"He's working late, but what the hell happened, Emmy?" Daniel refilled my glass while I held it, shaking his head as the wine reached the rim. "Your boss called Chris just after you left work and he called us all to bollock us for letting our guard down. It's been hours and we— ... Oh." He smirked and sucked on his tongue to stifle a laugh. "You f*cked him again, didn't you?"

I hung my head with mock contrition and pouted. "Yes, sir. Yes, I did. A lot."

"Oh Emmy. Never hump and dump."

"I didn't!" Setting my glass down on the breakfast bar, I held up my hands to declare my honesty. "I dumped then humped. Every time I tried to remind him that he needed to take his stuff and leave, he countered by trying to lead me back onto the road to hell like Will o' the Wisp. Getting sacked off by a billionaire's daughter is an aphrodisiac, who the hell knew?" And now I was talking about it to an impartial observer, I was aware that the situation f*cking sucked. That realisation that the only thing that had really made me happy in years had been a lie, and not even one I could bear to hold on to, finally set in now he was actually gone and the only way I'd see him was to hit a search engine, where I'd likely find all the pictures of us together.

Daniel rubbed my shoulder and pulled me by the wrist back into the lounge, where we plonked down onto the hefty leather couch, which was deceptively comfortable. I had my suspicions he'd put me there because it was waterproof. "Did he explain the wife?"

"Sort of..." I left him hanging for a minute, trying to figure out if there was any way to make it sound less awful than it was to, I don't know, defend Blaze's honour a little. There wasn't, so I lifted the glass to my lips and said it quickly before I sipped. "She's rich, dying and he's waiting for the pay out."

Daniel spluttered on his own wine and gaped at me, eyes boggling. "Wow. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. I suppose I'm just being bent over and f*cked by Murphy's Law as usual— 'everything that can go wrong will go wrong'. We were never meant to happen and fate wasn't going to let it. I just know why now." But somehow, I didn't really feel like I'd gotten any closure at all. Blaze would still hang on and I'd still waste myself on 'what if's. What if I'd just stuck it out? What if I'd demanded he leave her? What if he made that choice himself? Would it ever make up for the fact he'd had the ill motive before?