Chapter 24

Marcus

"Merry Christmas, Sophie. Time to wake up."

The last time Marcus woke Sophie up with breakfast in bed was on the morning of her birthday.

Like he had then, Marcus had made sure her meal was perfect, with nothing for her to complain about. Like she had then, he was sure she'd find something.

But this morning, it didn't bother him.

He wouldn't let it bother him. This morning was the beginning and end of something, a day to mourn and look to the future.

He was more than ready to take that step.

"You can't have your present if you don't open your eyes."

She made a soft noise as her arms came out from under the duvet, stretching above her head. Her back arched off the bed, exposing her chest to him. He looked away respectfully, drumming his fingers against the breakfast tray.

"How the times have changed," he muttered to himself, giving her a moment to cover up. "Merry Christmas, Sophie."

She sat up, resting back against the headboard as her blue eyes finally met his. "What time is it? Did you let me sleep in?"

"It's past lunch," he replied, pushing the breakfast tray towards her. "I figured I'd let you have a lie in after you polished off the Baileys last night."

She pulled a face, pushing the hair from her face. Yeah, that was the look of a woman who'd knocked back half a bottle of liqueur in one sitting.

"But it's Christmas. I wish you'd have woken me."

He shrugged and pushed the tray towards her. He had a schedule to stick to, and no way was he going to wake her up any earlier than necessary, so he'd have to deal with her.

"Breakfast."

"Why is there bread on the tray, Marcus?"

"Fuckin' Déjà vu," he muttered to himself. He'd lived this morning before, countless times in their brief marriage.

It wasn't until now that he felt like such a chump for putting up with it for so long.

"The toast is mine," he said. "Like it always is. Shut up, eat your breakfast, and be grateful for once in your fucking life."

Gasping in shock, Sophie's eyes widened as she stared at him. Ah, let her stare. In an ideal world, he'd have kept his cool and let her believe he was the loving husband he had always tried to be.

But man, that attitude.

Now that he knew they were over, that was not something he would put up with. Sophie reached for her fork, cutting into the egg-white omelette and taking a bite. Surprisingly, for the first time in their relationship, Sophie finished a meal he had made. Finally, Marcus understood where their relationship had gone wrong.

He didn't excite her.

It was a hard thing to admit his own shortcomings, but that didn't make it any less true. No doubt, she enjoyed him making her meals and keeping her house neat. But a maid could do the same thing. And they wouldn't bug her for leaving her stuff everywhere.

Twice now, Sophie had responded to a harsher tone from him. Once, months ago, when she brought home that ridiculous lingerie. And then, just now, when he had chastised her.

Mild-mannered Marcus did nothing for her. He was certain, given the texts he had seen, that Alex was anything but mild-mannered. Marcus could be a brute when needed. But, given Sophie's upbringing, he thought she deserved someone who put her first.

Fat load of good that did him .

"That was nice, thank you," she said, pushing her plate away. He nodded once and gathered their plates.

"When you're ready, your gift is in the living room."

Leaving her to it, he left the bedroom, releasing a puff of air once he was out of sight. He didn't expect to feel so nervous.

He glanced at the kitchen clock and chewed his lip. His thoughts turned to Erica. If things were going as planned, she'd be eating dinner with her family before the big reveal.

He needed to get a move on.

Placing the dishes in the sink, he checked Sophie's present one last time before taking a seat to wait.

It didn't take long before he heard her slippers shuffling down the hallway. He was hyperaware of every sound around him. The ticking of the clock with each step she took, the whisper of fabric against fabric. She came into view with a gasp. Her hands covered her mouth as she saw the size of the gift in the middle of the room.

"Marcus! Oh, God! What is all this?"

"Nothing that you don't deserve," he replied, gesturing to the gift. "Have fun."

She squealed and rushed forward. She pulled the wrapping paper off in a hurry and ripped off the lid of the first box.

"Another box?" she asked, frowning, as she saw the second wrapped parcel.

"All part of the fun," he assured her.

"Must be something pretty special," she giggled. "Especially for you to go through all this trouble."

"Oh, it's special, all right. Keep going."

He watched as she tore through layer after layer of wrapping paper. She threw away one box after another. She grew more and more frustrated until she finally held a long, slender parcel.

"This doesn't feel like jewellery," she said, her disappointment evident.

Bitch.

"It's much better than any jewellery. Go on and open it."

With a tight smile, Sophie pulled the handmade book from the confines of the parcel. Her smile fell, and she couldn't even give him the grace of pretending she was grateful.

"The Book of Love, by Marcus and Sophie," she said, reading the cover. "Well, wow. Thank you."

"I had it specially made," he replied. "It's a complete one-of-a-kind. Why don't you read out the first page?"

This was it.

This was the moment.

His heart threatened to leap out of his chest as she opened the book. He didn't expect to feel so nervous.

"Congratulations," Sophie read, glancing at him briefly before focusing on the words. "You've just gone through all that effort, only for a book to tell you we're getting—"

Her eyes went wide, her cheeks flaming. She stared at him, her jaw-dropping.

"Sorry, is that word too big for you to read?" Marcus asked, his tone laced with mock concern. "It helps if you sound it out. D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D. Does that help?"

"Stop being a cunt, Marcus. What the fuck is this? Why the fuck would you divorce me ? Like you could get any better."

Marcus ignored the sting of her words. She needed to lash out; he supposed. "If you flip to the next page, it'll explain everything."

Sophie tossed the book to the side, jumping to her feet. She looked ridiculous, surrounded by paper and cardboard. Like an eager child who couldn't wait for presents.

"Fuck your book, Marcus. Use your big words like a man and tell me what the fuck you're playing at."

"I could," he said, tilting his head to one side as though he were weighing up his options. "Or I could use another man's words."

He snatched up the book and opened it to a random page. There, he saw a beautiful image illustrating Sophie and Alex's texts.

Props to the artist. It was such a shame this book would most likely end up in the bin.

"You rode my dick so good this morning. I'm still thinking about it now," he read, watching the colour drain from her face. "If only Erica could move her hips like that, I wouldn't have cheated."

"Marcus—"

"Wait. Before you start with your excuses, here's another favourite." He cleared his throat. "Sophie, you're getting sloppy. I've told you before, if Erica finds out, I will fire you so fast your head will spin. Get it through your fucking head. I'm not leaving her for you. I only care about getting your pussy, so stop with the theatrics."

He raised an eyebrow and closed the book. "Real charming fella you picked there, sweetheart."

"There's been a mistake," she said in a small voice. "Another Sophie, maybe. He's not talking about me."

"See, I thought you'd say that," Marcus replied. "So I included images. Would you like to see them?"

Without letting her reply, Marcus leafed through the book. He turned it to show her a clear image of her and Alex in the back of his car, kissing like teenagers.

The silence between them was electric, the tension making the room feel smaller. Sophie stared at him like a deer in headlights, her mouth opening and closing as she scrambled for words. He stayed silent, letting her dig herself further into a hole.

"Nothing happened! I mean…"

"Lie to me one more time. I dare you." Now her expression changed. There was a gleam in her eye that wasn't there before, a smirk lingering on her lips.

"Are you threatening me, Marcus?"

He laughed harshly. He couldn't help it.

Immediately, he saw the angle she was going for. Make him angry enough that she gets to play the scared little victim. Anything other than admitting her mistakes.

"Behave, Soph. I've seen you do this before and it won't work now. Believe me, my eyes are finally wide open, and I see you for the bitch that you are."

"Marcus, come on…"

"Fuck you. I'd like you to leave," he said plainly. He wouldn't argue or demand an explanation. He had no interest in begging her or fighting for her. His lawyer could do all his talking for him .

"You can't make me leave! It's Christmas fucking day. I've got nowhere else to go!" It was the first time he'd heard genuine emotion from her.

Fucking bitch.

"Not my problem."

He turned his back on her, walking through to the kitchen. No matter how angry and hurt he was, he refused to show her even an ounce of emotion. He refused to allow her to turn him into a brute who yelled and smashed things. To keep his cool, he needed to be away from her.

But of course, she wouldn't give him that luxury.

She followed him into the kitchen. She stuttered over her words, starting her sentence many times. "Will you just talk to me?" She finally said.

"I have nothing I want to say."

"Why not? Don't you love me, Marcus? Aren't you going to fight for me?" He gritted his teeth, focusing his attention on the coffee machine. He was too sober to deal with her right now. "Seriously? How can you just throw me away like this? Did I mean not—"

"Did I mean nothing to you ?!" He turned to face her, shrinking at his tone and having the decency to look ashamed. "Don't you fucking dare, Sophie." He chuckled without humour, running his hand through his hair. After a moment, he met her gaze, curling his lip in disgust.

"You know what the worst thing about all this is?" He waited for a response from her. He received nothing. "The worst thing is, I do fucking love you. I worshipped the ground you walked on. There was nothing more important and more precious to me than you."

"So then—"

"I'm not finished." He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, letting it bite into his skin as a distraction from the pain in his chest. "I do love you. But fight for you? Not a fucking chance. No way I would degrade myself, or make a bigger fool of myself than I already have."

"You haven't made a fool of yourself."

"Oh, but I have. See, I told anyone and everyone who would listen how lucky I was to have you. How fucking perfect you were! Now, they'll all know I was being taken for a ride and my marriage was nothing but a sham."

"No, it isn't!" Sophie rushed towards him, taking his hand before he could stop her. "It's not a sham, Marcus. "I do love you!"

"Don't go there," he warned, pulling his hand from her grasp. "I don't want to hear your fucking lies. People in love don't fuck their married boss."

"It didn't me—"

"Mean anything?" He asked, finishing her sentence. "Was it just sex? You were thinking of me the entire time? My god, did you read a manual on all the things to say after getting caught cheating? Or do you believe the bullshit coming out of your mouth?"

"I think you're being a bit harsh, Marcus."

A bit fucking harsh?

In all of their marriage, she had never made him laugh this much. She was the biggest joke ever told. Every word from her stupid mouth made him angrier, sadder. Dejected. He hoped she'd have an explanation. Or, at least, the right words to make him understand why.

What he hadn't expected was the complete lack of interest she was showing at the moment. Even as she pleaded, her words felt empty. Her weak apology was only because she thought she'd have to find somewhere else to sleep.

"Get your shit and leave."

"No," she said, reaching for him again. "I forgave you for Erica, so you can forgive me for Alex."

He had been wondering when she would bring Erica's name into this. "What do you mean, forgave me for Erica?"

"Don't play me for a fool, Marcus. I know you've been shagging her."

He laughed and shrugged. "I know we made you think we were shagging, but no. Unlike you, Erica isn't a whore."

"Whatever. Look, just fight for me, Marcus, fight for us. We can get through this."

"Why would I fight for you when you've made it clear our marriage wasn't worth fighting for? Just go. "

"No." Her tone was firmer this time, her arms crossing over her chest. "Why should I be the one to leave?"

"Because it's my fucking flat, for a start."

"Our flat," she corrected.

"Mine, bitch. You haven't paid a penny. And even if you had, I wasn't the one who cheated. I was here, I was present. You fucked up. You ruined the marriage. You fucking leave!"

"I'm not going anywhere, Marcus. This is my home."

"Not anymore."

The two of them stared at one another, neither of them willing to back down. For all his anger, Marcus hated every moment of this fight. For her, she'd lost her meal ticket. He had lost his everything.

He wanted so badly to hug her and fix their marriage. He wanted to tell her he forgave her and always loved her. The urge was so strong that he tightened his grip on the kitchen counter to keep his arms still.

And then an image of Erica's face swam into the forefront of his mind. A reminder that all was not lost. That there was a life beyond Sophie. A woman who would love him the way he loved her.

This was it for them. Their marriage was over.

Anything less than that, and he was letting her know he would accept her disrespecting him. Nothing would ever change, and if not Alex, he was sure she'd find somebody else to open her legs to.

"I'll give you half an hour to get your shit together and then I'm calling the cops." He spoke firmly, calmly. "After that, I'll arrange something with my lawyer to allow you back in the house to grab the rest of your stuff."

"Marcus…"

"I don't know where you're going to go, nor do I care, but I will need an address to serve you with divorce papers. Make it difficult for me, and my lawyer will wipe the floor with you. Let me save some semblance of my dignity, and I'll be fair in the settlement."

"Look, Marcus, please! "

"As one last favour to you, I will give you money for a hotel room for tonight only. Anything to get you out of my home. After that, you're on your own."

"Baby, please think about this."

"Your thirty minutes start now, Sophie. Come on, I've got places to be."

Marcus made a point of glancing at his watch, though he'd never be able to recall the time when asked. Thirty minutes was an arbitrary number he'd pulled out of his ass just to get her moving. He was hoping it wouldn't come to calling the cops.

"Five minutes already gone," he warned as she stood there staring at him. He could see the intrigue on her face. She wanted to know where he was going, and once again, he realised just how calm she was, how unaffected. She was standing in front of him, almost challenging him. It was as though she dared him to follow through on his words.

Another stab through his heart confirmed it. She had long checked out of this marriage. Getting caught was an inconvenience to her, nothing more, nothing less.

"Do you love him?" He asked before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth. Silently cursing himself, he waited for her answer.

She shrugged, giving away nothing, and in doing so, told him everything he needed to know.

"You're a bigger idiot than me, Sophie. Seven minutes have gone. I'd hurry up if I were you. It's bloody freezing out there, and I'd hate to be hauling my shit down the street in this weather."

That seemed to motivate her. With one last glance at him, she turned her back on him, leaving the room. Marcus took a moment to gather himself before refocusing on the coffee machine. He thought through every action it would take to brew himself a strong coffee, following each step with hyper-focus.

If he tried hard, he could ignore the sound of the floorboards down the hallway. His soon-to-be ex-wife was entering the bedroom they had once lovingly shared. He wouldn't think about her favoured overnight bag and the clothes she was no doubt hastily throwing into it .

If he focused on the task at hand, he wouldn't have to confront the crippling pain of his broken marriage or the fact life had changed as he knew it, and things would never be the same again.