Haley Hill - Love Is...

He rolled his eyes.

‘Or checking out that redhead’s boob job?’

‘She was asking my opinion.’

I sighed. ‘Because she thought you were gay.’

‘I can be objective.’

I shook my head.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Lucy wouldn’t care anyway.’

‘Really?’ I asked. ‘You have a clause in your marriage contract stating that objective assessment of non-spousal secondary sexual characteristics is permissible?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Something like that.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Is everything OK with you two?’

He folded his arms tightly across his chest. ‘It’s amazing. It really is.’ He forced a smile. ‘Since we chose to breed, our relationship has transcended that tiresome phase of animalistic passion and become a more spirit-centred union.’

I frowned. ‘You mean spiritually centred?’

‘No, spirit. She drinks gin, I prefer vodka.’

I slapped him on the arm. ‘Can you be serious for just one minute?’

He sighed again and then gazed up to the roof of the taxi. ‘What do you want me to say, Ellie? It’s shit. My marriage is shit right now. It hasn’t always been and I’m hoping that it won’t always be, however, right now, it’s shit.’

I turned to him with a scowl. ‘You’ve got two beautiful children, a gorgeous home and a wife who loves you. You’re so lucky, Matthew. You should be grateful.’

‘Oh yes, because you think having a family is the key to your happiness. Ellie, you spent years thinking the perfect man was the key to happiness. When are you going to realise?’

‘Realise what? That you like willies?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘That there is no key…’

I stared at him.

He turned to me. ‘You want to know the truth?’

‘Go on then,’ I said, half smiling.

‘I enjoyed looking at that girl’s boobs tonight, because I’ve forgotten what a normal pair looks like. In the past two years, Lucy’s have been swollen, veiny and grotesque, if not leaking milk or infected. Her nipples have been cracked and furred with thrush. And now, when finally they’ve been handed back to me, empty sacks lined with stretch marks, she worries they don’t turn me on. And, as much as I love her, as much as I want them to and as much as I reassure her otherwise, we both know deep down that she’s right.’ He turned to me. ‘You think having babies will complete the you and Nick white-picket-fence happy-ever-after. Well, it won’t.’

I smirked. ‘You’re just grumpy because you’ve had a ten-inch penis slapped in your face.’

He glared at me. ‘Having kids changes everything, Ellie. I love Zach and Angelica, but Lucy’s the one who wanted them. Then straight away she went back to work leaving me at home to wipe bottoms and boil pasta.’ He looked down. ‘She treats me like I’m staff. You should hear her: “Matthew, pick up the dry-cleaning. Matthew, clean the windows. Matthew, did you call the upholsterer? Matthew, are you listening to me? Matthew. Matthew!” She’s lost all respect for me.’

‘No, she hasn’t.’

He rolled his eyes and let out a protracted sigh. ‘Well, why else did she shag her boss then?’

For the rest of the taxi journey, we didn’t speak. I knew there was nothing I could say that would lessen his pain. I squeezed his hand and we stared out the window.

‘Not a word to anyone,’ he said, as he climbed out the taxi.

I nodded.

‘About PC Schlong, I mean. I have a reputation to uphold.’

I’d prefer to think it was because I was starting to feel like myself again, rather than a fear of ending up like Matthew and Lucy. Or worse, Cassandra and Richard. Either way, as I climbed into bed and snuggled up next to Nick, I felt something I hadn’t felt in months. I leaned over and kissed him. I could tell he’d been drinking again but this time it didn’t bother me. I kissed him again, and he kissed me back.

That night, making babies was the furthest thought from my mind.

Chapter 5

First thing on Monday morning, I noticed a voicemail from Cassandra. I waited until I was in the office and had finished my coffee before unleashing the assault on my eardrums. I put it on loudspeaker so I could temper the impact, and also so I could type some emails while I listened.

Unlike the usual mega-volume, her words were slurred and hard to decipher because she was sobbing and then sometimes laughing between them.

‘I’m miserable, Ellie,’ she said and then paused. ‘It’s not the same.’ She sniffed. ‘I want my Dick back.’

When I looked up, I saw Dominic leaning over my desk, hair coiffed, eyebrows raised. ‘She wants her dick back?’ he whispered, laughing. ‘Just what we need: another “they matched me with a post-op” lawsuit.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s not how it sounds,’ I said. ‘She’s just got divorced.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘And you want to counsel these freaks,’ he said, making an inverted comma gesture around the word ‘counsel’.

I shook my head, tempted to prod him with the biro in my other hand.

‘Cassandra isn’t a freak,’ I said, hand still firmly over the receiver. ‘She’s a client. And the Dick that she wants back is her ex-husband. Not male genitalia.’

Just as Dominic was processing what I had said, buttocks most likely twitching as he did, Mandi breezed over. She was wearing a patterned empire line smock, roomy enough to accommodate a sextuplet elephant gestation. I glanced down at her stomach and then back at her face. Despite the rumours circulating the office, I had yet to ask her the question formally. Dominic said it was a matter for HR and advised against it. Besides, once it was public knowledge, I feared Mandi might overload my inbox with a deluge of Pinterest nursery interiors.

Mandi leaned over my desk, eyes wide.

I decided it best to terminate the voicemail, before the entire office became involved.

Mandi leaned in further. ‘Was that Cassandra?’ she asked, holding her hands to her chest. ‘How is she?’ She looked to the floor. ‘That poor, poor woman. Divorce has to be the worst experience for anyone.’

Dominic, who was still leaning on my desk, smirked. ‘Worse than terminal cancer? Death of a child? Being decapitated by ISIS?’

Mandi ignored him. ‘And this is her second time. Simply awful. Is there anything I can do to help? And Richard, how is he? They were so in love, Ellie.’ She wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘So, so in love. How could we let this happen?’

Dominic interjected, with a dismissive flick of his wrist. ‘If it was her second marriage, then statistically, they only had a twenty-five per cent chance of making it work. There is nothing you could have done.’

Mandi narrowed her eyes and poked Dominic in the chest. ‘Would a doctor turn off a life support machine if a person had a twenty-five per cent chance of waking from a coma? No, they wouldn’t.’

Dominic sighed. ‘They turned it off. Not us.’

Mandi scowled. ‘This isn’t Dignitas. We’re a dating agency. We’re supposed to help people.’

Dominic laughed. ‘If only it was,’ he said. ‘There’s a far greater chance of preserving dignity in death than in dating.’

Mandi tutted then turned to me. ‘Ellie?’

I thought for a moment. ‘Cassandra wants him back.’

Mandi held her hands to her chest again and nodded.

Dominic sniggered. ‘Does she really though? Or is she just feeling sentimental after contracting pubic lice from a troop of strippers?’

I stared at him for a moment, wondering how he’d been privy to such classified information from the divorce party. Then I turned back to Mandi. ‘She says she still loves him,’ I said.

Dominic laughed. ‘I thought I still loved an ex when I found an old photo of her topless.’