Chapter 29
Me
Merry Christmas, Angel. Just woke up, so I'm guessing it's like three p.m. there.
It's a lie, I haven't just woken up. I've barely slept all night, my palms cold and sweaty, my heart pounding in my throat as I try to keep my breaths steady and relaxed. I haven't had an anxiety attack in months, but the thought of Felicity in that house with him. It's triggered me, and my mind has been spiraling for hours as I struggle to decipher what could be realistic concerns about what Elliott is capable of versus what my brain is catastrophizing. As Ben has always said to me, don't act on emotion; try to regulate them first. But if she doesn't reply to my text in the next minute, I'm likely to do something rash.
Thirty seconds later I'm scrolling through my contacts to find Jack's name. We exchanged numbers when I started turning up at his college to help him with technical drills, and just in case he wanted to ask me anything.
But thankfully my phone pings with a notification.
Angel
Merry Christmas. Yeah, we just had lunch and I'm clearing up. Why is Christmas so messy? Off to your parents shortly?
Jealousy races through me. Oh, so he's playing house with her now. She's not your fucking wife anymore, you prick. She's mine. We should be clearing up the kitchen together. I imagine her slaving over the stove and then clearing up after his sorry ass all while he sits doing nothing or worse still, talking to his finance buddies.
Breathe Jon, breathe.
My fingers fly over my phone's keyboard as I try to type out an indifferent response.
It"s chaos at my parents every year. I'll be heading over for lunch at about twelve and I'm going to stay over. They're having some family and friends over for an evening buffet, which is what they do every year.
Yeah, your mum mentioned she was putting that on—I helped her prepare and freeze the sausage rolls when I was over the other week.
Thoughts of my mom and Felicity in the kitchen preparing food together flush me with warmth, taking the edge off the crippling anxiety, if only momentarily.
I've got to go, but I'll call you later, okay? Have an amazing day, baby! I hope you get spoiled, and I'll be back really soon.
Fuck, I really don't like this, not one fucking bit. The only modicum of comfort I have is knowing Jack and Darcy are there with them, but I'm not foolish enough to think Darcy won't head over to Liam's at some stage and Jack will likely go out since he's a social guy.
We'll definitely speak later. I'll have my phone on me all day, just call if you need anything. I miss you so much.
I miss you too.
It's seven-thirty and I've got four and a half hours to kill before I need to be at my parents'. So, I throw on some navy athletic shorts, foregoing a shirt, grab a Gatorade from the fridge, and make my way to the gym. I need to burn away the nausea.
"Felicity, forget the dishes for a moment, please. Come open the presents with the kids before they head out."
I set my phone on the kitchen counter and make my way into the lounge as Elliott has asked. These last twenty-four hours have been like taking a step back in time, a window into my former life. Elliott calling the shots, what time we eat, sleep, and unwrap presents. He can't help but need to control every aspect of this family.
On entering the room, I set my wine glass on the side table and walk over to where Darcy, Jack, and Elliott are gathered around and distributing presents into piles.
Elliott smiles at me as I take a seat next to Darcy and place my hand over hers. "I think you'll like what I got you, but if it's not the right color then tell me, and I'll exchange it."
Without hesitation, she rips open the pink wrap. "Oh, Mum, it's perfect! I love it!" She stares down at the mauve Mulberry clutch bag I got her. Normally, I wouldn't spend so much at Christmas, but I remember Darcy seeing one very similar last time we went shopping, and with me buying such an expensive gift for Jack's birthday, I wanted to treat her, especially since she's had a rough year. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me tight, and I savor this moment of being reunited with my daughter.
I look up to find Elliott scowling at the gift. "That's rather extravagant, Darcy. Your mother went all out this year, didn't she?" He leans across to take a closer look. "Mulberry. Mark must be paying well. Labels like those are normally only seen on celebrities or wives of rich men." I flush at his suggestion. It's subtle enough to bypass both Darcy and Jack but sufficiently cutting to hit me straight where he intended—to have a cheap snipe at my relationship with Jon and that I'm in the money now that I'm a kept woman.
"Earning as you are, you"ll be able to quit work soon," he tags on.
Another blow and the tears fight to break free as his snide comments invite back an onslaught of memories from our marriage. He's been on his best behavior since I arrived, controlling yet at least pleasant enough, but now the mask is slipping, and Elliott's true colors are being revealed once again.
I stand up from where I'm sitting and grab my wine glass. "I'm going to grab a refill; anyone need anything?" I ask in the chirpiest voice I can muster.
"No, I'm good, Mum," Jack replies as he begins ripping into gifts from his dad. I don't bother to stay for a moment longer as I make my way back to the kitchen to gather myself before I head back into Elliott's snake pit for round two.
"You didn't openyour present from me." Elliott comes to stand beside me as I wait for the kettle to boil for my chamomile tea.
"I was embarrassed you got me anything, I didn't think we were buying gifts for each other anymore." I begin stirring the tea bag through the hot water, not lifting my eyes to his. The entire afternoon has been laced with passive-aggressive comments from Elliott toward me and Jon. And now Darcy and Jack have left for the evening. Darcy has gone to Liam's and Jack over to his friend's, and we're all alone. The part of my visit I've been dreading the most.
Even though Elliott has never hurt me physically, I can't help but flinch at the way he places his hand on my shoulder. "I will always care for you, Felicity, and I wanted to treat you, so please, open my gift?"
Tea in hand, I follow him back to the living room and kneel in front of the tree.
He passes me his gift and with trepidation I begin tearing at the paper. Red wrap gives way to duck egg blue as it slowly dawns on me that, shit, he's bought me jewelry. I freeze, staring at the small box in my hands.
"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Elliott eyes me expectantly.
I pop the lid on the box. It's a rose gold heart pendant with a pretty diamond set in the center. It must've cost a fortune. "Elliott," I say, shaking my head. "This is, well, it wasn't necessary."
"Here, let me put it on you."
"Oh, okay," I reply on a panicked breath, the moment feeling far too intimate on his behalf. Something I categorically do not want to accept.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it since Elliott is standing right behind me, clasping the pendant around my neck.
Taking a step back, he smiles proudly. "It suits you."
I lift my hand to the chain knowing full well this isn't the sort of gift an ex-husband gives his former wife. It's far too personal. Discomfort rising within me, I press my lips together and look at him. "This is too much."
He's exasperated, I can tell. Eighteen years of marriage means I don't miss a beat when it comes to his moods. "Too much for whom exactly, you or him?"
"Him?" If he's going to start a fight, he can at least use his name.
"Oh, come on, you know precisely who I'm talking about. Jon fucking Morgan."
I rise to my feet and make to leave the room. I came back to Oxford for my children, not to argue with Elliott over who I do or don't date. "I'm done with this conversation, Elliott."
He scoffs. "You think he loves you? That he'll still be around in a few years?"At his words, I stop in my tracks and turn around. "Because if you truly think that, then you're more stupid than I first thought."
Anger swells within me. He doesn't know a damn thing. "How could you possibly know what Jon wants? He cares about me, and I care about him. It's that simple."
"So, what, you think he's going to marry you? Settle down and live happily ever after," Elliott mocks. "Get real, Felicity."
I race to boiling point in record time, the red mist descending. "Oh, yes, because that must be what I want. Get married, settle down, and have children. Neither Jon nor I could possibly want anything else. Unlike our marriage, I'm fifty percent of our relationship and Jon sees me. He knows who I am and that I have dreams. You…" My voice cracks and I fight to maintain my composure as I point at him, my entire arm shaking. "You just kept me under your thumb, to be who you wanted me to be. So go fuck yourself, Elliott."
Even after only a few short weeks of being with Jon, I see that relationships can be two-way and healthy, not the dictatorship Elliott ruled.
He looks down at the whiskey glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid around. He's clearly had a few drinks; his eyes are slightly glazed. "Don't come crawling back to me when that playboy boyfriend of yours does the dirty on you. I mean, are you even exclusive? What happens when he wants children? You're a little old to be giving him a family, don't you think?"
My face drops, and I can feel the blood drain from my features. Shit. What if that is what Jon wants…a family, children. I've been so caught up in the present I haven't stopped to consider what I may be capable of giving him, and exclusive? I think we are. We've never set boundaries, but I assumed we were.
Capitalizing on my uncertainty, Elliott continues to follow me into the kitchen and edges toward me as I stand with my back to the counter. He's about three feet from me, and I can smell the liquor on his breath. A satisfied smile pulls at his lips as he tips his glass toward me. "He could be anywhere right now, with anyone. Your rich and famous boyfriend could have anyone he wanted. I'm sorry, Felicity, but what makes you think you're special to him?" He reaches out and places a hand on my waist and my body reacts, but not like it does to Jon. I recoil. My stomach revolting. "I told you I still care for you and that won't change. You're special to me." His tone is much softer now as he inches even closer, our noses barely apart. I look to the side, uncomfortable with where this is heading and his proximity. "I'm sorry about what happened between us, and I meant what I said that night at your apartment. I want to try again. For us, for Darcy and Jack."
I want to run; I want to get out of this house. My heart rate picks up as I begin to panic and look for a way out of his grasp, but he has me cornered. "Elliott," I say as calmly as I can. "I'm with Jon. I'm happy with Jon. I also meant what I said that night at my apartment. Our marriage is over. It's not what I want anymore."
A few beats of silence pass between us as he goes back to swirling his whiskey and then brings the glass to his lips and downs the remaining drink in one gulp. He bangs the glass down on the counter so hard I'm shocked it doesn't break in his hand. Turning back to me, he narrows his eyes and purses his lips together with rage. "Then I want you out of my house by morning. Get your things and fuck off back to Seattle and to your man."
Intimidated and shaking, I push past him and make for the stairs. It"s Christmas Day evening; there's nowhere for me to go, but I can't be within fifty feet of him. Placing one foot on the stairs, I turn back to him. There's a direct view through the hallway and into the kitchen at the back of the house, and I can still see Elliott's back as he faces the counter and pours himself another drink. "Don't worry, I'm gone!" I shout back. "But you can tell Darcy why I couldn't stay here as she wanted, why we can't all be together for Christmas."
Elliott spins around, his face contorted with amusement. "Oh, Felicity, you really are that gullible. Jon Morgan's going to have a field day with you."
Realization dawns on me. Oh, holy shit. He lied to me. Darcy never told him she wanted us all to be together and under the same roof. This was his way of getting me here and to his house. Jon was right. Kate was right. Embarrassment rocks my body as I race up the stairs and to the spare room.Why did I just believe him? Why do I always believe him? He saw the mum-guilt within me, knowing I'd want to please my daughter without question, and he capitalized on it.
What the fuck am I going to do?
Opening the door to my bedroom, I shut it quickly behind me and slowly fall to the floor, dragging my back down the wood until I collapse in a heap. Where do I go? Swiping under my eyes, I shakily take my phone out of my pocket to find several unanswered texts from Jon, which must've been the buzzing I felt earlier.
Not bothering to open them, my fingers shaking in panic, I bring up his name and hit dial.
He answers on the second ring. "Jesus, I've been going out of my mind."
On hearing his voice, the walls I built around my heart that were there to protect me from showing vulnerability to anyone ever again come crashing down, and I sob. I sob and wail, drawing in shaky breaths as I desperately try to find the words to tell him what's happened and how stupid I've been.
"Felicity." Jon's voice is calm and kind but equally demanding. "Please tell me, what's happened? Are you hurt? Please tell me he didn't touch you."
I draw in another shaky, uneven breath. "You were right," I say. "He told me he wanted to try again and when I refused, he kicked me out, and now it's Christmas fucking day and I've got nowhere to go."