The Last Dress from Paris(66)
“Do you think it’s fair that it’s so different for you?” She sounds so much weaker than she wants to. She tries again, firmer this time. “Do you think I don’t know about the late-night phone calls or your glamorous blond friend who collects you some evenings?”
His hands clench into fists. His chest swells beneath his shirt.
“That’s all okay, is it? I’m supposed to just accept it’s one rule for you and one rule for me?” She knows she should stop, just accept his telling off and then he’ll leave her alone, but she refuses to be the only one to blame.
“You stupid woman.” She watches as his lips curl back over his teeth, like he despises the very sight of her. “It’s just sex, Alice, that’s all. Meaningless. No one’s falling in love or planning some ludicrous elopement. Do you think I’m the only husband in Paris to need that release? There isn’t a married man at our table on any given night who isn’t doing exactly the same thing. The difference is, most of their wives sensibly turn a blind eye and accept they are onto a very good thing.”
“We’ve barely been married a year.” She immediately regrets saying it, knowing it makes her sound naive and wounded by his actions.
“I’m not about to change just because we got married.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he’s speaking to a child who is struggling to understand the most basic instructions. “Is this because I don’t want children yet? Are you punishing me for expecting your full support and not to have you distracted and reduced by the impact a baby would have on your life?” He’s desperate to find some way to make this all Alice’s fault.
Hearing him say the words aloud still hurts—knowing there were days filled with the hopes and dreams of a more trusting woman from a different time, one who believed in him and the two of them together.
Alice looks at Albert now and wonders how she could ever have let those huge hands of his work across her body in the clumsy way they have, grabbing at her, never caressing or appreciating her. How she could ever have lain beneath him trying to keep pace with his predictable rhythm.
“You’re supposed to be my wife. I made it very clear, the role you would play here. I ask so little of you. Did you imagine I would let you ruin everything? All those years of hard work, grafting my way up while the rewards came so easily to others. Do you have any idea what it was like, Alice, to play a part that was palatable to everyone, while I had to worry about money every second of the day?” He stops, looks shocked at his own outburst, like he has said far too much.
Alice is confused. “But, your family? They supported you. There was plenty of money, you said. You were well looked after, just like I was.”
“Did I? Or is that what you all wanted to believe? Think about it.” His voice has softened slightly. “No one was interested in the truth. You wouldn’t be here now if they were. Your parents would never have allowed it.” He has slumped backward in the chair, drained by his confession.
Alice looks at him, feeling something approaching pity, her mind thrown back again to their wedding day and her conversation with his mother and sister, how Albert deliberately cut it short. What secrets has he been carrying all this time that she has yet to discover? Do they explain why he has so little idea of what she needs to make her happy?
She pauses, gathering in a deep, calming breath.
“It’s not the lifestyle, Albert,” she sighs. “I don’t measure my happiness against how many dresses I own or how many parties I’m hosting this month. I don’t judge my worth according to the size of my staff.”
“Well, then you are alone. Because the world around you does. You really have no fucking idea how lucky you are, do you? To have it all land in your lap.” He’s all out of patience.
Alice refuses to be cowed by him. She turns toward the door. Why should she stay here and listen to any more of this from a man who won’t judge himself by the same standards he expects her to live by?
“Don’t you dare turn your back on me,” he growls.
The volume of his words forces her to turn to face him. He’s sitting forward in his chair now, legs aggressively stamped open.
“It ends. Now!” Alice hears the rasp in the back of his throat, senses the pain his bellow must be causing, and she can hold her tears back no longer. They cough out of her in one uncontrolled heave.
“But I . . .”
“Antoine will be collected from his grubby little apartment in one hour from now. He will be driven here, and you will end it with him. You will meet him in the garden and tell him it’s over. I don’t want that boy in my house.”
Alice feels her mouth drop open, her bottom lip quivering so violently she can hear her teeth clash together.
“You see, I’m not entirely unkind, am I? I am giving you the chance to say your goodbyes, which is a damn sight more than either of you deserves. Make sure he understands just how serious you are.” He watches her very closely for a sign of capitulation, enjoying the reaction he has caused, reveling in the tears that are now streaming down her face. He stands and takes two steps closer to her. “I warned you. I can and will destroy your reputation, what’s left of it, and any credibility his family connections may still be affording him. It will be easy, just the matter of a few well-placed phone calls. I’m sure you don’t want to see that happen to him, and I know his mother will do everything she can to ensure it doesn’t.”