Sara Foster - Come Back to Me

‘God, but why couldn’t she be twenty-five stone and covered in boils? Why did she have to be so stunning?’

‘You’re stunning.’ The words were out before Mark thought about them. He tensed. But Chloe didn’t take it quite the way he thought she might. She laughed.

‘Yeah, right.’

Mark didn’t want to repeat himself but nor did he want to let it drop. So he said, ‘Of course you are. In fact, I was just looking at that photo,’ he gestured to their wedding picture, ‘and thinking that you look quite a lot like Julia there… when your hair was longer…’ He trailed off.

Chloe’s face had blanched.

‘What?’ Mark asked warily. ‘What did I say?’

Chloe stared at Mark, dumbfounded. She was remembering all too clearly.

He thought I was her. At the station. When we first met.

She could picture his face quite clearly: tentative, hopeful recognition quickly replaced with politeness.

He thought I was her.

Oh my god. What was she, really, to Alex? Just a second-string replacement in the absence of his one true love?

Mark had rushed round to her chair. ‘Chloe, what is it?’

She pushed him away blindly. ‘Nothing.’

‘Jesus, I thought you were going to faint. Here -’ He ran over to the tap and got her a glass of water, came back and placed it in front of her. Meanwhile, Chloe stared at the wedding photograph on the shelf, her favourite photo becoming an image of the two of them smiling like imbeciles while stupidly clinking glasses.

Was he thinking of her on our wedding day? When I walked down the aisle, did he pretend it was her until I came into sharp focus?

Was nothing real?

‘Chloe, please talk to me,’ Mark was saying, squatting down beside her chair. ‘You’re freaking me out.’

‘I think I just need to have some more wine,’ Chloe said, pouring herself a generous top-up, putting the baby right to the back of her mind.

This obviously signalled to Mark that she was coming out of her reverie, and he went and sat down again on the chair opposite.

‘I’m sure Alex will get whatever it is out of his system pretty quickly,’ he continued, oblivious to her thoughts. ‘There is something really wrong with that woman. She’s gorgeous, but… complicated… a bit, well, weird.’

Out of his system? Who did Mark think he was talking about Alex to?

Chloe clenched her fists under the table. She had no idea why she had ever dated Mark when he was like this. Now was one of those moments when she could see clearly what Alex saw – a smug, condescending, arrogant man. She sifted through her memories, recalling how he had made her laugh, how he had seemed confident yet, at times, uncertain when they’d first met. Every now and then he would show his vulnerability, and because of those times she had hung in there, but finding it was like hunting through heavy law books for the one small paragraph that might turn a case – both exasperating and exhausting.

‘How can you be so… so cold about it?’ Chloe asked sharply, ignoring the twinge of conscience she felt thinking of law books and the fact that they should both be going through the Abbott case notes right now. How could Mark dismiss someone he’d sounded so excited about just a week or so ago in a couple of swift sentences? ‘Doesn’t anyone ever get under your skin?’

Mark looked into his lap and gave a short bark of laughter. ‘You think I’m shallow?’ he said, looking up at her.

‘No,’ Chloe began, and then a surge of impatience overtook her. Why shouldn’t she say what she thought? ‘Well, yes, actually – at times.’

‘Now we’re getting to it,’ he said, staring at her, a malevolent glint in his eye. ‘You expect too much of men, Chloe. We’re not given to excesses of emotion. To women, things might be myriad shades of grey – but to men, it’s pretty much just black and white.’

‘Not all men.’

As soon as she said it, she knew she’d made a mistake.

Mark snorted loudly and derisively. ‘I presume by that you mean Alex? Really, Chloe, I thought you’d be the last person to defend him at the moment, since he’s proved to be so flighty.’

Chloe stood up abruptly, her wine glass wobbling dangerously as she did so. She was so enraged that she didn’t notice Mark reaching out quickly to catch the glass before it toppled. She had lost all efforts at control now. She came at him, her fists flailing, ready to inflict what damage she could. ‘How dare you!’ she cried. ‘How fucking dare you!’

She tried to connect, but Mark caught her wrists tightly with a strength that surprised her. She struggled with him but he held on firmly, and the small bolts of pain that shot through her arms stopped her in her tracks. Her face was contorted with anger as she spat at him, ‘Why do you have to be so bloody horrible, Mark? Why do you have to be such an arrogant, condescending bastard? You’re always so bloody rude. And you’ve always hated Alex. What has he ever done to you except be civil?’

‘He has you,’ Mark murmured fiercely, holding her wrists tight.

‘What?’ Shocked, she was suddenly still. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You know full well what I mean, Chloe,’ he said, his voice full and deep. His grip on her wrists slackened and he leaned forward as though to kiss her. But she quickly stepped backwards.

‘You’re outrageous!’ she said, her voice high-pitched and shrill. ‘What on earth are you doing? You HAD me, Mark. A long time ago, you HAD me. And you blew it. You ruined it completely with your selfishness, your complete lack of… of…’ She felt agitated, breathless, and sat down suddenly, putting her head in her hands, trying to resist the urge to sob. What the hell was going on with her life?

She heard the scrape of a chair as Mark drew his closer to hers. She could feel his breath on her face, even though she wouldn’t look at him. He was quiet for a moment, and she waited, every nerve primed for what might come next.

‘Chloe.’ His voice was a sigh. He wrapped his arms around her, and she held herself stiff but didn’t push him away. ‘I know I ruined it. I know. I just didn’t realise… what I had, how important it was, until it wasn’t there any more.’

She could feel his chin resting on the top of her head. It felt so nice to be held. She closed her eyes and imagined they were Alex’s arms wrapped around her, then wondered if that was what Alex did when he held her – imagined she was Julia – or if, at this exact moment, her husband’s arms were wrapped around a stunning brunette. For a second, hatred for Alex pulsed through her, and she gasped at the strength of it.

The noise made Mark move. He pulled back from her and looked into her face. ‘What are you thinking, Chloe?’ he asked.

She stared at Mark. She saw him every day. She thought she knew his every expression, but here, just at this moment, it seemed there was more kindness and concern in his features than she’d ever seen before.

He leaned towards her.

I don’t know where Alex is, she thought blearily. Or who he is any more. Or even if he cares. And Mark is here. He’s here for me, right now.

Mark saw how she was looking at him, and immediately pulled her close. As his lips pressed against hers, she blanked all other thoughts from her mind, just let herself feel his warm touch against her skin. As though brought back to life by it, heat was transmitted to her through that small, soft connection, and she felt herself stir, her own mouth beginning to respond in kind.

The plane journey was bringing back uncomfortable memories for Alex, of his journey from Australia ten years ago. Now he’d made another choice, and once again he was questioning the wisdom of it. Meanwhile, he was going through the motions, sitting as though in a cramped theatre, watching movies, sipping wine, eating questionable food, while they hurtled through the air in a reinforced metal rocket. He kept trying to focus on Amy and what she needed from him, but his thoughts reverted back to Chloe at every opportunity. Plus, now Mark was in their house, and he was helpless to do anything about that. And Chloe was vulnerable, and he had seen the way Mark looked at her – predatory – wolfish, almost, at times. Alex wasn’t blind to the truth, even if he didn’t always choose the best course of action in dealing with it.