Through the Glass (12 page)

“Thanks.” He had never spoken words like that to her before and even though there was an element of truth in them, it hurt.

“I’ve made coffee. Want some?” He walked back to the door. “And I’ve made some food, too, if you’re hungry.” He didn’t turn around but kept on walking and headed downstairs.

She got a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach. He
really
didn’t want her here.

After Felicity had washed her face and freshened up, she made her way down to the kitchen where the aroma of something delicious tantalised her taste buds, making her salivate and making her tummy growl in anticipation.

“I made a steak pie. I hope you like that. If not I can rustle you up a sandwich.” Jim stood at the stove ready to dish out the food.

“Oh yes, pie. That’s lovely, thanks.” She smiled and sat down at the little beaten up old table which sat against the opposite wall to the white pot sink. “I’ll get out of your way as soon as the snow clears, Jim. I…I don’t want to impose.”

“Aye, well…you’ll not be going anywhere for a few days. I’ve been listening to the local news. The roads are blocked. The snow’s been pretty heavy all afternoon. There are severe weather warnings throughout this part of Scotland. And they’re saying don’t travel unless it’s an absolute necessity.” He didn’t smile or show any emotion at all for that matter. Felicity felt increasingly unwelcome and uncomfortable. Anxiety and anger built inside of her. Why was he being so cold? What was the point?

She slammed her hands on the table and stood to face him. “Look, Jim. I know this is not ideal and I’m the last person you want in your house…
and
in your life…but I can’t help the fact that I’m stuck here! I don’t like it any more than you do. So would you just
stop
being so fucking cold and mercurial? I can’t fucking deal with it right now! I
know
I hurt you. I can’t take that back. I wish I could, okay? I hate feeling like this! It’s fucking awful. I can’t deal with it! I can’t deal with you treating me like some evil fucking bitch, Jim! It’s not fucking fair! And I hate swearing and you’ve made me swear!” she screamed at him, her arms flailing as she went toward him, hell bent on slapping him, all of her pent up anger and frustration seeping out of every pore.

He caught her by the wrists before she had the chance to make contact with his face. “Have you finished?” he asked calmly, still holding her wrists but not tight enough to hurt her.

Her chest heaved as if she had just completed a marathon. He held her gaze, his eyes steady and his face too close to hers for comfort. She began to calm down as tears cascaded, leaving glistening trails down her heated face.

She sobbed. “I’m so sorry…please forgive me…for everything, Jim. I’m such a mess. I’m sorry for everything…so, so sorry.” She rested her head on his chest and clung on to his shirt.

He encircled her in his arms and let her cry for what felt like an eternity. Being in his arms again felt like being home. A feeling which she knew there was no point acknowledging. He smelled of the same cologne that he always used to wear.

~~~~~

Jim stroked her hair. Having her here was unsettling. This was
his
place. There had been no memories of her here and that was a good thing. Not anymore. She looked great, beautiful in fact, despite the puffy eyes and dark circles. Her familiar perfume filled his nostrils making him feel melancholy as he was almost transported back in time to when he was
meant
to hold her in his arms. He stamped on the train of thought, bringing himself reluctantly back to the present. She shuddered in his arms.

He hated that he had been the cause of her tears. “C’mon…let’s eat, eh? Before it gets cold.”

She lifted her face from his chest. There was a huge wet patch of tears and mascara where she had been pressed against him.

She giggled. “Whoops….sorry Jim, I think you may need to wash your shirt.”

He looked down and smiled in return. “Aye…looks that way.”

~~~~~

They ate in silence for a while. Jim got up only to grab a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He poured them both a large measure. “Don’t know about you but I reckon we need this,” he said as he held up his glass to take a large swig.

Smiling, she did the same. “So…what have you been up to since we last saw each other? Have you…met anyone…special?”
Why the hell am I asking that? I don’t want to know that!
He frowned at her as if to ask her the same question she was asking herself. But after thinking for a few minutes he turned the question on her.

“Why…have you? You know…met someone?”

She smirked at his avoidance of the question. “Not since Rory.” She pushed her plate away.

He huffed. “I knew it.”

“What do you mean?” She scrunched her face.

“I knew you’d end up with him.” He pushed his own plate away now, his face very serious. “He was exactly your type.”

“Jim, nothing happened until after you and I…until after…it was after we had split.”

“So you say you’ve not met anyone
since
Rory? What happened with him?”

Felicity began to recount the not so pleasant details of her affair with Rory Fitzsimmons, which started in February 2010, the affair that, in effect, gave her a taste of her own medicine. And it was a bitter medicine to swallow.

Chapter 8

February 2010 — One Year After the Break-up

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hamilton. Are you on the lookout for another piece?” Felicity heard Franco Nilsson ask the tall, swarthy looking man as he perused the latest works on display in the gallery. She sneaked a peek around the wall.

“Ah, good afternoon, Nilsson. No, actually I’m on the lookout for your rather stunning International Art Dealer.”

“Am I to presume you mean Ms. Johnston-Hart and not our intrepid Daniel Perkins?” Franco laughed at his own joke. The well-spoken client simply ignored him and carried on.

“Is she in?” He looked rather perturbed now as if he felt he was being deliberately delayed. As he was finishing his question, Felicity came through from the back room of the gallery carrying a briefcase and a file. Her heart began to beat a little faster when she saw Rory standing in the gallery. Rory was everything she wanted in a man (or so she thought). He was tall, good looking, ambitious, wealthy, and intelligent and to top it off he had a very prestigious career and a sports car.

Rory was a university rugby star and successful lawyer at Jenkinson-McLeary Solicitors. She had heard that he was hoping to make partner in the firm at a young age and that he worked long hours to ensure that he was first in line should the opportunity present itself. He was five years older than her and had made her acquaintance whilst purchasing artwork for his home and office from the gallery she worked at after leaving Oxford. He had followed her to her next gallery to purchase more artwork. She’d thought that perhaps he had a crush on her. Why else would he follow her to another gallery when Art and Soul had some wonderful pieces to tempt him? She had always thought him very handsome and charming. He was very tall, six foot five to be exact, a whole lot taller than she and four inches taller than Jim. He had very dark, almost black hair. He dwarfed Felicity and she quite liked it.

There had been a few coffee dates in the year since she split from Jim, but Rory had not made any attempts to kiss her or ask her out officially. He had hinted that he wanted her and had given her many compliments but seemed reluctant to take things any further. She had put it down to the fact that she was still
legally
married. He had offered her advice about divorce just after she had left Jim when he took her out for coffee on her request for his assistance. She had wondered for a while how she would feel underneath him in bed. Now that her divorce was final she hoped perhaps his attitude would change. Flirting with him had always been good, very exciting in fact. Even her mother approved.

“Rory! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” She beamed at him from across the large, bright space.

“I was just in the area and so I thought I would come and insist on taking you out for a celebratory dinner.” He gave her a lascivious grin. Under normal circumstances she would think him arrogant but this wasn’t just
anyone
. This was
Rory Fitzsimmons
. No, she needed to make this one work. Her mother had met him at the gallery and had not stopped talking about him since.

She laughed. “I have nothing to celebrate though, it’s not my birthday for two months…but funnily enough, I’ve just finished work. I’m on my way back to Polly’s.”

“Ah well you deserve to celebrate your decree absolute now that you’re a free woman. Dinner is courtesy of yours truly. We’ll go now.” He was very insistent but she liked that. It made a refreshing change for a man to be so decisive and forthright.

“Okay, sounds good. Where shall we go?” Felicity blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear, realising that Nilsson was still observing their exchange.

“There’s a delightful little Italian around the corner. Bella Roma? My friend Sal is the owner. I’ve booked a table for…ooh around about now.” He said looking at his watch. Felicity made a bet with herself that it was an expensive designer watch. She would check later.

“Oh? And what if I’d have said no?” she teased.

“Pah! Don’t be ridiculous. I knew you’d say yes, of course.”
Hmm, okay a little arrogant.
She didn’t comment aloud.

They made their way around to the Italian after dropping her briefcase and file in her car. Rory guided her into the restaurant, placing his hand at her lower back. Sal greeted them personally. He was a very handsome man with a goatee and floppy black hair. He seemed very friendly and made Felicity feel very welcome.

They chatted easily throughout their meal. And she managed to check out Rory’s watch.
Yay! I was right
. She high-fived herself in her mind. Whilst they were finishing their drinks, Rory grazed her fingers with his own and gazed into her eyes.
This could be the night. Please let this be the night
. She prayed silently. Rory chatted briefly with Sal at the end of their meal and they said their goodbyes. Sal waved to her and gave the expected, “Ciao Bella!”

When they reached Rory’s car he pulled Felicity into an embrace. “Right then, sexy. I want to get you home.” The hunger visible in his eyes made her tingle. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for absolutely bloody ages but you were with that
John
idiot, and as much as I hated him, I wasn’t prepared to share.”

That made Felicity uncomfortable. “Erm, his name is Jim and he wasn’t an idiot—”

“He let you go, didn’t he? That makes him a
prize
idiot in my book.”

She felt a confusing combination of flattered and affronted at the same time, but his body was pressed up so close it was hard to think. “Now, come on. I want you in my bed.”

“But…my car—” He stopped her mouth with a very full on, passionate kiss. She was rather shocked, but her legs weakened all the same. One hand held the back of her head and the other slid to her lower back, pulling her into him.
Gosh, so demanding.
She thought.

“Come on, sexy. You’ll be staying at my place tonight,” he insisted, thrusting his pelvis into her suggestively. She giggled like a teenager, eventually feeling rather silly, but the promise of what was to come hung in the air between them and she couldn’t help feeling excited. Her car was locked in the compound behind the gallery and so she knew really that it would be very safe. She climbed into the passenger seat of Rory’s sports car and he reached over and squeezed her thigh. Shivers traversed her body and she felt the heat rise quickly up her body and to her cheeks.

They arrived at Rory’s stunning Georgian home and Rory came around to open her door for her.
Such a gentleman
.

Once inside the hallway of the house he closed the door and immediately grasped her in a strong embrace once again, pushing her up against the wall and invading her mouth with his tongue. She could hardly breathe and pushed him back. He released her and she gasped, her chest heaving.

“What’s wrong? Have I got the wrong end of the stick here?” Rory was breathless too and a frown creased his brow.

“No…no…you just…surprised me. Can we take things a little slower, Rory? I don’t mean to be a tease. It’s just that I haven’t…slept with anyone since…since Jim…well… Jim was my first so it’s been a while.”

He smiled and scooped her up in his arms. She gave a squeal as he did so. He chuckled at her reaction and proceeded to carry her up the first staircase.

“Rory! What are you doing?” She wasn’t sure if she liked how things were progressing. She knew she found him very attractive physically and she
did
want to have sex with him, but he was maybe a little too dominant for her liking…or
was
he? She had somehow lost the ability to think straight.

“I think we should remedy your situation. Don’t you?” He kissed her and smiled as he placed her back on her feet…in his bedroom.

~~~~~

She awoke at eight the following morning, naked in Rory’s bed. She stretched feeling every muscle in her body ache. Even muscles she didn’t realise she had ached. He had been very attentive. Completely different to Jim, but perhaps that was a good thing. The last thing she wanted was to be remembering Jim every time she made love with Rory. Although, calling it
making love
was perhaps a little optimistic. Rory had made her come twice, but he was a little rougher than she was used to,
fun
but rough. She hoped he had different levels of intensity otherwise she may struggle to function normally if their fledgling relationship made it past the starting blocks.

Rory walked into the bedroom carrying a tray of coffee and croissants. He was completely naked. She sensed that without a doubt he was
very
comfortable in his own skin. He placed the tray on the bed as she let her eyes roam over his body. He hadn’t looked as she had imagined. He was broad and had fairly muscular arms and shoulders, which
was
to be expected as a former rugby player, but he was a little soft around his middle. He wasn’t sculpted like Jim. Jim’s abs were defined and his biceps were strong and rounded and his pecs…
Dammit! Why am I doing this to myself?
She shook her head to remove the unwanted invasion of images and pulled the sheet up over her breasts.