ML Roberts - The Wife – Part Four - Till Death Do Us Part

My eyes spring open and I stare at the door. I glance at the security monitor. I look down at my left hand, at the wedding band there on my third finger. A symbol of those vows Michael and I made to each other.

To have and to hold.

For better, for worse.

In sickness and in health.

Till death do us part…

They mean something, those vows. We said them, and we meant them. All of them.

Didn’t we, Michael…?

I can’t get those images out of my head. His concerned expression. His finger tucked under her chin as she looked up into his eyes. I couldn’t sleep, I spent the night lying awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything I’m losing. My husband. My life. My mind…

I need to see him. Michael. I need to see him. I need to confront him once and for all; I need to do that, even though Karl – the private investigator – told me to do nothing until he’s got more information. It’s what I’m paying him for after all, isn’t it? To gather more information. To watch my husband, track his movements, because I can’t do that anymore. He told me to wait, until he has more proof. Do I need more proof? Weren’t those pictures enough?

I push open the revolving doors of the hotel I know Michael’s staying in and stride into the lobby. Why did he never go to that friend he claimed he was going to stay with? Was there ever a friend? Or was that just another lie? After all, it’s easier to bring her here, isn’t it? Easier to carry out that deception and betrayal in a place full of people who don’t know you. Who won’t judge you. How many times has he lied to my face?

How many times have I lied to his?

Despite the fact it’s only just gone 8 a.m., the reception area is busy. There seems to be a large group of people trying to check out so I hang back a little, sit down in the foyer, my gaze shifting between the front desk and the door. I have no idea if they’ll tell me Michael’s room number, but I’m his wife. I’ll make up some kind of emergency, I can lie just as well as he can. Probably even better.

My phone vibrating momentarily distracts me, and I pull it from my pocket. It’s Liam.

I glance quickly outside, and then I realize Karl is probably parked up somewhere, watching the hotel. Has he noticed me come in here? He should have done, if he’s doing his job properly. And he won’t be happy that I’ve done this, that I’ve come here, but rather than confront me himself, has he called Liam? Is he too scared to tackle the woman he can see I’ve become? Would he rather Liam come and handle this? Handle me ? Is that who I am now? Something to be ‘handled’?

I ignore the call and slide the phone back into my pocket, but within seconds it vibrates again, so this time I turn it off and throw it into my bag. I don’t need the distraction. And then I hear it – his voice. Michael’s voice. Deep. Bold. Perfect diction. It carries well, my husband’s voice.

He’s at the front desk, talking to the receptionist, smiling at her the way he smiles at every woman he comes into contact with. And she’s just like all the others, sucked in by his handsome face and easy charm. And I’m tired of it, the way he flirts with them, attracting these women like some modern-day pied piper.

I get up, make my way over to him, and as he turns his head his smile evaporates.

‘What are you doing here, Ellie?’

He speaks to me like I mean nothing to him. It stings, further ripping that hole in my heart that he’s already put there.

‘I need to talk to you.’

He turns away, signs something the receptionist slides over to him, and he looks at her as he hands it back. He throws her that smile, again, but this time she doesn’t return it. She quickly glances in my direction. I’m making her uncomfortable.

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he says, slipping his newspaper into his bag before sliding it up onto his shoulder. ‘I think you should go.’

‘I’m not going anywhere, Michael. I’m quite happy to say all I have to say right here, if that’s what you’d prefer.’

The way he looks at me, it makes me feel sad and angry. Tired. Defeated. But I can’t let those feelings win out. I need the truth. I need to know how to end this.

He sighs heavily. A frustrated sigh. ‘Come to my room.’

He turns and heads towards the lifts, and I follow him, neither of us saying anything. The silence between us is almost foreboding, and I feel my heart start to pick up a faster rhythm as we approach his room. She’s obviously not with him. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been here.

He closes the door behind him, throws his bag down on the bed. He stares at me, and again I feel sadness and anger merge, I still love him so much. That’s why I’ve been driven to this, because I love him. He’s my husband … my husband.

‘What do you want, Ellie?’

I tilt my head to one side, and look at him. Right at him. I hold his gaze and he narrows his eyes, he’s confused. Good. I’m the one in control now, and I need to make sure it stays that way.

‘I want you , Michael.’

He narrows his eyes a little more, and then he breaks the stare; he laughs, turns his head away from me, runs a hand along the back of his neck. ‘Jesus Christ…’

I walk over to him, pull his hand away from his neck and I force his head around to look at me. ‘There’s nothing funny about this. I’m your wife, and that’s something you seem to be forgetting…’

His fingers grasp my wrist, so tight they dig into my skin, but I don’t even flinch.

‘You haven’t been my wife for a long time now, Ellie.’

‘And whose fault is that?’

‘I didn’t drive you to this…’

‘You helped.’

His eyes lock on mine, it’s like he’s staring into my very soul. Trying to find the woman he married. The woman he loved – no. He still loves me. Whatever he’s done, we can fix it. We can move on. We can get past this, I know we can. I wasn’t sure before, but being this close to him … I’m not willing to let him go.

I reach out with my free hand, lightly touch his mouth with my fingertips and he doesn’t stop me. He keeps his eyes on mine, and I know he feels it too. That connection, that bond between us that can’t be broken.

‘Do you still love me, Michael?’

‘Ellie, please…’

‘Do you still love me?’

‘Of course I still love you, but…’

‘Ssh.’ I shake my head, press my fingers against his mouth to silence him. ‘You still love me. I still love you. We can save this, Michael. We can save us …’

He grasps my wrist a little tighter, but still the pain means nothing. I feel nothing. ‘Ellie, you’re not well…’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You need to talk to someone. You need to go back to the counsellor…’

I wrench my arm free and step back from him. ‘All I ever wanted was to talk to you . My husband. What happened that night … we vowed we’d stick together, remember? You promised me that, you said…’

‘And I’ll never break that promise, but right now – right now, I can’t do this . You need help, Ellie.’

I walk back over to him, run my fingertips lightly over his jacket collar. ‘I don’t need help.’ I pull him gently towards me, and he doesn’t protest, doesn’t make any attempt to stop me. Because he’s weak? I think we might all be a little guilty of that. I rest my mouth against his, smiling slightly as I feel his erection nudge my thigh. ‘I just need my husband back.’

He slides a hand around on to the small of my back, lowers it to my bottom, cupping it gently as he kisses me; as he pushes me back against the wall.