Commitment Issues by Ali Ryecart

Chapter Forty-Three

Freddie

My heart turns over and I have to cling to the doorjamb to stop me from crumpling. Elliot, here in my family home, at the table with my mum.

“I have to talk to you.” He looks strained and the creases across his forehead are deeper than I’ve ever seen before. But I don’t understand why he’s here, why he isn’t with Gavin.

“Why don’t you take Elliot down to the beach, Freddie?”

“What? I—”

“Freddie?” Elliot says. “Please?”

I nod, sharp little jerks of my head, swing around and make my way back the way I’ve come. Elliot follows me, both of us in silence, along the garden to the old, buckled door I shoulder open, the door that’s never locked, and across to the pebble-strewn beach.

“I know what’s happened.” The words burst from him. “Gavin lied, everything he said was a lie.”

“Was it? What exactly do you think he said to me?” I watch him carefully, but his gaze is clear and never wavers as he looks into my eyes.

“I don’t know the fine detail, but I can guess.”

He pulls me down to sitting, on a heaped-up bank of pebbles, overcoming my weak resistance.

“I know about Paul, and what he did to you.”

I flinch, I can’t help it. “Who—?”

“Cosmo mentioned him, but that’s all. It was your mum who told me about him.”

“She shouldn’t have—”

“I wish you’d told me.”

“It’s not really the kind of thing that comes up in conversation. How I got shafted, and not in a good way.”

“I’m not him, Freddie, and never will be. You have to believe that. Gavin and I, we’re never getting back together. Never. It’s lies and rubbish, every single word. He knows there’s no way back for us. Gavin’s many things, but he’s not stupid. I know he cornered you in the bookshop — although God alone knows why he was there, he never opened a book from one year’s end to the other. He saw an opportunity to plunge in the knife and twist it, and that’s exactly what he’s done. Don’t let him win, Freddie, don’t let him prise us apart. Please don’t let him do that to us.”

To us. The words reach into my chest, and wrap themselves around my heart. But haven’t I been here before, when I vowed never to again?

I want to believe him, it would be so easy to believe in Elliot… but the casual lies, the assurances that everything’s fine before the slap in the face, the punch in the gut, and the kicking away of my legs from beneath me. But Elliot’s not like that, he’s not like Paul, but then I didn’t think Paul was like Paul, either, until it was too late.

I tear my gaze away and look out to sea, away from those blue, imploring eyes, eyes that have gazed into mine with so much tenderness.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and I crumple inside.

Sweetheart. That simple, old-fashioned term of endearment that he’s whispered against my skin as we’ve lain together in the warmth of the bed, sated, full and satisfied, entwined in each other.

“Don’t call me that,” I say, but there’s no conviction in my voice.

“Why not? That’s what you are and always will be to me, Freddie Jacobs.”

I’m falling apart inside, but I can’t give in, not this easily.

What Gavin said, it was vicious and designed to wound, but… Elliot’s distance, his vagueness, his pulling away from me. Didn’t what Gavin say explain that? Elliot away, and not able to get in touch, or not wanting to… In spite of what he says, isn’t this history repeating itself? Isn’t this everything I vowed never to be involved with again? The details are different but isn’t it the same old story?

I turn to face him because I have to know, even if it rips my heart to pieces to be thrown up in the air for the gulls to fight over. I have to know the truth.

“Those five days when you were in Oslo, he told me you were in Barcelona, at your apartment putting everything right between you.”

I study him, every inch of his face.

He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine.

“No. I was in Oslo and it’s easy enough for me to prove and for you to check. I’ll never set foot inside the apartment again, and I’ll never go back to that city.”

He speaks with such vehemence I jerk back, and he grabs my hands, holding tight as though he thinks I’ll get up and run.

“He’s persuasive isn’t he? You think I don’t know that? I put up with it for years, being persuaded by him, believing every word that slipped off his tongue. He knows how to dig, he knows what to say, he knows what to do, and what buttons to push. He’s easy to believe, especially if you want to. And I wanted to believe him, Freddie, for so long in our relationship, I wanted to believe him until I couldn’t any longer. Do you want to believe him?”

“No—”

“Then don’t. I can prove where I was every second from when I left you to go to Oslo, to when I walked back through the door. I’ll do it, if that’s what it takes for you to believe I wasn’t with him, I’ll do it.”

His eyes are so fierce they burn, and I drop my gaze to our hands. For a tall, broad man, his hands are surprisingly delicate, his fingers long and tapering. I’ve felt what those hands can do, how gentle they are, how soft. They’re the hands of a virtuoso who knows exactly how to play my body and play my heart. I close my eyes and squeeze them tight. Of course he can prove where he’s been. How have I been so stupid as to take what Gavin said on face value? But I know why, deep down I know, because wasn’t I waiting for it to happen, waiting for Elliot to walk away? Wasn’t I waiting for Elliot to pull away from me?

“When you got back, you—you were so distant. It was like you’d retreated from me and I didn’t understand why. So when I saw him, when he said what he did…”

“Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to do that but I had so much on my mind and was mentally battered and bruised. The deal I was finalising, still am finalising, it’s taken months and months of work. It’s been the hardest of my career. I should’ve told you rather than let you think, well, what it was you were thinking. But that wasn’t all.” He drifts his thumbs over the backs of my hands, sending a tiny, nervy ripple up my spine. “I’ve come here to be honest with you, and that’s what I’m going to be. I was distancing myself because I had to. Or that’s how I saw it. And before you ask, no, it’s got nothing to do with Gavin and never had.”

“Why?”

But don’t I already know the answer? Our arrangement, our no strings, friends with benefits, casual relationship that isn’t a relationship. That’s what he wanted, because he wanted to heal and mend after the car crash of Gavin. And now he has. I’m the sticking plaster just like I’ve always known I was. I’m the breathing space. He’s here to let me down gently. He doesn’t want to hurt me but he wants me to know the truth, he doesn’t want to end this thing that we are, in some mess of lies created by Gavin. He wants to end this the same way he started it, everything upfront and clear about what we are to each other and what we’re not.

I can’t stand it.

I go to pull my hands from his, but his hold’s tight and firm and he doesn’t let go.

“I was backing away, I was retreating because it seemed to be the only way out. This arrangement we had, I thought I could do it, Freddie, but I can’t. I wanted more, I want more, but I knew you never did. And now, with the offer of Oslo, your life’s opening up and you’ve got so much ahead of you.”

“So what were you doing? Just backing away to let me know it was over?”

“Yes, because I didn’t know what else to do. When you told me you’d got the place I knew that was it. I was — am — so pleased for you, but it broke my heart, and it’s still breaking. The truth is, Freddie, I love you and I’ll always love you, but I know you’ve got to move on and take up this brilliant opportunity you’ve worked so hard for. I won’t stand in your way, because you have to take these steps and make the life you’ve always dreamed of. But always, always remember, that if you ever need me for anything, I’ll be there for you.”

Love. The word reaches into my soul.

Elliot leans forward, and places his lips on mine. It’s the softest, sweetest kiss I’ve ever been given but it’s also the saddest. His hands slip from mine as he pulls back and stands. He’s pulling away from me, but this time I’m not going to let him.

I scramble up. We’re exactly the same height and I look him square in the eye.

“You love me? You really love me? Then don’t you dare back away from me again. Don’t you dare go.”

“Freddie, I’m doing what’s best for you.”

I step in closer, breathing in deep, saturating my senses with him and I close my eyes, as I’m overwhelmed by the memories that tumble down on me. The light waft of his cologne and the tang of salt, not from the sea but from our spent release as we lay sweaty, and sticky, and breathless in each other’s arms amongst the crumpled sheets of our wrecked bed. Does he really think I’m going to let him walk away?

The words I’m about to say, as I open my eyes, are the surest ones I have, or will ever, say.

“Don’t you ever think you know what’s best for me. I know what’s best. I’ve always known. Here.”

I place my hand on my chest, just briefly, where my heart is, before I move in closer, tilting my head a little one way as he tilts his in the other, both of us ready for what we know is coming.

“I know what’s good for me,” I murmur, my heart thundering, as I crush my lips to his in a never-ending kiss beneath the broad, blue sky as the gulls wheel and scream above us.