10: In Which She Closes a Chapter

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“What can I do?” I asked quietly, after a long hush had elapsed.

With his uninjured hand, Konstantin brushed away wisps of hair that had strayed into my face. “You can start by shutting up. I was beginning to enjoy the silence.”

Something had changed in the past hour of our changing our minds and actually talking. Kon had probably gotten second thoughts about taking me back because now he was as cold as he had been when I’d last seen him in Greece, if not, colder. Despite that, my body still yearned to be one with his; to be united in that simple, primal need to have sex. Every single fibre of me was crying out to run my hands through the tousled curls of his dark head and pull him to me. The idea that they had fallen out during chemo and I’d never gotten to be there to comfort him was not lost on me. I had no right to enjoy him, to have him when I hadn’t been there for him when he’d really needed me.

I bit my tongue and waited for him to continue. He retracted his hand and shifted away from me, wrapping his towel back around his waist. I let out a sigh of regret and he shot me a look.

“What?” he grunted.

"I thought...I thought we’d talked and...” I sucked in a deep breath. “I know I don’t deserve you, so if you want me to beg, I will beg.” Before he could say or do anything to dissuade me, I hopped off the bed and got onto my knees. It didn’t matter that I was utterly naked, or that my dignity was five seconds away from slipping into oblivion. The only thing that mattered was trying to persuade a man I’d hurt – even though he wouldn’t admit it – that I loved him unconditionally and would prove it the only way I could at this point.

“Frankie, get up,” said Konstantin, his tone warning.

“No.” I fixed my eyes on him. “We’ve talked about almost everything under the sun for the past hour but we haven’t talked about us.”

“Maybe because there is no us.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” I shot back.

His brow creased in irritation. “Neither of us needs convincing. I think we both know that a relationship that is not built on trust cannot last. In any case, I never made a good husband.”

I wanted to slap him across the mouth for saying something so untrue. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I never understood what you saw in me but I knew that I was lucky you saw something.”

He arched a disbelieving brow. “Kissing ass, are we, Frankie?”

“Okay, you are behaving incredibly bipolar.” I got to my feet. “I didn’t want to have to do this.”

“Do what?” he asked, regarding me through hooded eyes. His voice was husky and I knew that I was slowly but surely breaking him down.

“Make you forgive me,” I said, “because you haven’t forgiven me. I know that. You just wanted sex.”

“I can have sex with any woman I want,” he said through clenched teeth, his stubbly jaw tensing. “For you to insinuate that I only –”

I placed a forefinger to his lips, shutting him up. “Violate me.”

Gently, he took my hand in his. “What?”

“You’re still angry with me, right?”

He seemed to consider this. “What has that got to do with your asking me to abuse you?”

“But I want you to be angry at me. That’s exactly what I want. I want you to make me feel what you felt when I left you. When I hurt you.”

Anger flickered in his eyes. “And you think an angry fúck will change everything that’s happened between us? Jesus, Frankie.”

There was something sadistically appealing in his menacing tone, in the obnoxious way he was looking at me.

“I want you right now and you’re doing an exceptional job of playing hard to get, agapi mou,” I said firmly, meeting his eyes.

A derisive smile tugged at one corner of his lips. “What did you just call me?”

“Hard to get?”

He pulled me to him. “I believe you called me your love? That’s very presumptuous of you.”

“Am I cracking your icy exterior?”

“What was it you said?” he growled. “That I should violate you?”

I swallowed. “Punish me.”

“Do you know what you’re asking?”

“I think so.” I winced when he squeezed my wrist. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’ve built up quite a lot of anger in the space of two years,” he said in a low voice, jerking me onto the bed in one vicious tug.

I fell back onto the pillows, gasping for air. Pinning me beneath him, he lowered his mouth onto one side of my pulsing neck and ran his tongue along the crook of my shoulder, lulling me into a false sense of security and bliss until he bit down on the skin. I cried out, arching my back and spreading my legs in one crazy moment.

Pain exploded through me when he plunged into me without warning, filling me up so completely and perfectly, but I wasn’t so ready for him that it could feel good. Clawing at his back, gripping a bit of flesh in my hands, I tried to get a finger to my clít to make it better but Konstantin’s hands pushed mine far back and all I could do was lie there. Vicious in his thrusts, he continued to pummel into me, seeking to inflict as much pain as he possibly could. Except that the only thing I was beginning to feel was the gratification. He held my arms above my head with his good hand and I groaned into his ear, murmuring that he was hurting me. Truth be told, I wished he’d never stop.

Some like it rough...

The words to an old song popped into my head and I knew that I did like it rough. I enjoyed the way his hardness drove into me like a satisfying steel baseball bat, practically tearing me apart. I enjoyed the way he’d settled his weight onto me and was crushing me in the process, and I sure as hell enjoyed the sound of his brutality.

How could you have ever wanted to let this man go, you stupid cúnt?

He finally raised his head and released a low, guttural groan, driving into me one final time before completely shattering inside me. I watched him, watched him fall apart above me and then my own vision became blurry as I followed him right after, clenching my internal muscles around his length and triggering his second, harsher orgasm. This time, he pressed his lips against my bruised neck, releasing my arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a beat, his hot breath tickling my skin. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t be.” I wrapped my arms around him. “I love you.” I had noticed that he hadn’t said it back. The only reason I wasn’t acutely bothered was because I wasn’t the insecure girl I’d once been, heart skipping whenever her husband said those treasured three words.

He does love me, I reminded myself, sighing when he pulled out of me. I know that.

He sat up, his back to me. “I should get dressed.”

Was that what he was supposed to be thinking about right then? I didn’t want to think too hard about it. If I did...

“Um, of course...”

“You can see yourself out,” he went on.

I almost stabbed his back; my eyes did.  But of course, this was my due. I deserved even worse. Rolling out of bed, I gingerly got to my feet, the new, dull ache below my abdomen informing me that yes, he had certainly violated me and I’d enjoyed every minute of it. Fortunately, my dress was still in one piece, whereas my knickers were another story. As quickly as I possibly could, I pulled the thing over my head and got on my hands and knees to hunt for my pumps.

“Frankie?”

Konstantin’s gruff voice made me look up. He was towering over the other side of the bed.

“Yes?” I wasn’t even trying to keep the hopefulness out of my voice.

“Thanks. For this.” He held up his bandaged hand.

I had to get out before I ended up fucking up his other hand.

***

“And what did the doctor say?” Siobhan repeated slowly, her expectant eyes searching mine.

“I already told you,” I muttered, suddenly wishing I hadn’t even bothered to come. “My ovary’s a failure and so am I.”

“No, that’s you talking, Francesca.”

I scowled at her. “Is that all we’re going to be discussing?”

“You brought it up. I’m just following your cue. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

That was true. I had brought it up. In passing. And I didn’t want to dwell upon...it.

I sucked in a deep breath. “It just...happened.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips and I dragged my fingers through hair that desperately needed washing. “The funny thing was that I didn’t even know I was pregnant. Can you believe that crap? I thought it was a heavy period and...well, you know the rest.” The annoying ball of sadness was still wedged in my throat, thickening my voice. I didn’t want to sound like I cared that I’d lost Konstantin Kouriakis’ baby and he had no idea. I didn’t.

“Have you told anyone?”

Told who? I thought in despair. My gran, whose miles and miles away and doesn’t deserve to be so worried about me? Nancy, my best friend, whose sister is marrying my ex-boyfriend? Or perhaps Yaya, the woman who would have been my baby’s great-grandmother?

Instead of voicing my sarcasm, I shook my head. Siobhan gave me what she probably thought was a sympathetic look, but looked more like a scowl.

“What do you feel? After all, you don’t much like the man who impregnated you.”

I snorted incredulously. “Oh, that’s changed. Hell, Doc, haven’t you listened to a word I’ve been saying? I love that man.”

She blinked at me. “Well, all right. Then it must be a huge disappointment to lose his baby.”

“I wish you doctors would stop using that fucking word!” I snapped, suddenly heated more than anything. “‘You lost the baby,’” I mimicked. “Lost the baby, as if I’ve misplaced the bloody foetus in a fúcking Toys ’R’ Us! What if it was going to be a...a boy? What if it was going to look exactly like its father? What if it was going to...” I stopped there, sobbing heavily and wishing I could crawl back into bed again and die quietly. So many questions that were better off unanswered lest they destroyed me.

The only reason I’d resurfaced to go see my therapist after weeks of wallowing was because I could feel myself going crazy – with depression; with anger; with heartbreak. I needed to unburden myself and Siobhan Farrell was my safest option, my only option.

I exhaled, rubbing the sleeve of my jumper across my eyes. “I’m sorry. About yelling. And crying.”

“Nonsense,” said Siobhan. “You can do or say whatever you want or feel, Francesca.”

“Do you think I’d have made a good mother?” I asked out of the blue, catching Siobhan’s concerned look. It passed over and her face was stone again.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that. What do you think?”

I glanced out the window, a grey Thursday staring back at me. “I definitely wouldn’t have. No child deserves a suspicious, idiotic wreck as a mother.” My eyes swivelled back to Siobhan’s muddy brown ones. “I think it was meant to be, Siobhan. Call it...karma.”

*

My phone was vibrating somewhere beneath me. Digging under my pillow, I pulled it out and groaned when I saw Nancy’s name on my screen. Since she’d returned from her honeymoon, she’d made countless attempts to talk to me, no doubt to discuss what my relationship with ‘that Greek Mr. Megabucks’, as her several voicemails had informed me. Lately, they’d morphed into ‘Okay, I’m worried about you, love. You don’t open up that wretched store of yours anymore’-type of messages. I didn’t want to hear anything.

And God, how lovely Alain was.

“Don’t worry about it,” he’d said when I’d phoned him up days ago. “I’ll do your shopping. It’ll be a pleasure, chérie.”

No questions, no judgment – just an affirmative. Why couldn’t everyone else be like that? So calm and sweet and nice.

Shoving my phone back under my pillow, I resumed my tears. It was so easy to cry; so easy to surrender myself to feeling every pain and ache, whether mental or physical. My entire life was shitty. There was nothing I had to look forward to. And I had no idea whether I was crying because of the miscarriage, or because the man that I loved wanted fuck all to do with me and didn’t even have the nerve to say it.

No, he preferred to quietly slink out of town and leave me completely oblivious to the fact that I was carrying his child.

But I wasn’t mad at him. This wasn’t his fault. I deserved every piece of misfortune that came my way. With my luck, I’d probably discover that I wasn’t actually born Francesca Vega. Perhaps I was dumped on a sidewalk and my mother had been a gypsy who’d cursed me to a life of bad luck for ruining hers.

Six weeks.

That baby had been slowly forming inside me for six weeks, romantically conceived on a beach. And then, just like that, it was gone. Dead. Nonexistent. Just a mass of foetal tissue gushing out my cúnt. That was what it was, when you got down to it. It wasn’t a baby. But it was going to be. And then it was nothing.

Don’t do this, Frankie, I tried to tell myself, burying my swollen face into the pillow. Don’t punish yourself more than you already have.

I heard the floorboards creaking outside my bedroom door and instantly sat up, heart thudding. There was no way anyone could’ve gotten in because despite my awful state, I still understood the importance of locking the front door. I wasn’t that bonkers.   

I was, however, someone who had nothing to lose and was about to grab something to defend myself kamikaze-style when the door flew open.

I’d expected to see Alain, or Nancy, or even Colin – but Konstantin stood in the doorway, his eyes blazing. Crossing the room in two easy strides, he knelt at my bedside, his eyes searching mine as he took my hand in his.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill? I went to the store and that Alan man said that –”

“Alain,” I corrected, bewildered. “What are you doing here?” My nose was stuffy from crying and I was one-hundred-percent sure I looked and sounded as shitty as I felt.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He squeezed my hand. “I’ve missed you. I need you. I want you. I love you.” His words were said in a rush but they were fervent and I could almost believe them. If I wasn’t so sure I was dreaming.

“Stop it. Don’t play around with me.” I was going to cry again, if my swollen eyes would allow me to. “You said –”

“I know what I said,” he snarled, those concrete-grey eyes of his threatening to slay me. “I was a bastard. I cut my nose to spite my face. I realised that five seconds after you walked out the hotel door.”

My eyes were more than accommodating when it came to my uncontrollable need to cry. Even after my tear ducts had all been squeezed dry, tears still dribbled down my cheeks. Konstantin automatically wiped them away.

“I can’t stand to see you like this, Frankie. Say something. Call me an asshole. I am. But I’m an asshole who loves you. Very, very much, Frankie mou.”

How was it that this man could make me feel so many conflicting emotions? I was furious with him, with myself. But I was overjoyed that he’d finally said the words I’d secretly yearned to hear for so long. Above all, I still felt guilty. After everything, I was still responsible for putting him through so much pain.

“I love you,” I breathed, and he rose, settling himself on my bed.

When he kissed me, everything made sense once again. Our separation only made us want each other more, physically and emotionally. Wrenching off his jacket, I started working on the buttons of his sky-blue shirt – and froze, my fingers useless.

“What’s wrong?” he rasped, pulling away from me. “Frankie?” He cupped my chin in one hand, concern filling his eyes again.

Wordlessly, I took his hand and slowly, almost painfully, pressed it against my stomach. I couldn’t meet his eye.

“We created it in Greece and I lost it,” I whispered. “Lost it, as if it’ll turn up somewhere, under my laundry, no worse for wear.”

With his other hand, Konstantin made me look at him. I didn’t want to read the expression on his face.

“So that’s why your friend told me that you had been holed up in the house,” he said softly, his face suddenly unreadable. “Would you have told me if I were still away?”

I shook my head. “Why? To tell you what a failure I am? To tell you how I’m not a woman? To tell you that I can’t even give you a –”

His lips flew to mine, gently grazing against them. He pulled back, looking tormented. “Was it...was it me?”

Confusion must have been apparent on my face because he continued, “In the hotel. When I...” He moved away from me as if his proximity could hurt me. “Did I kill the baby?”

I struggled to breathe. “God, no.” Without thinking, I edged towards him, putting my hand on his cheek. “Kon, it wasn’t you. You didn’t make that happen.”

He exhaled loudly, putting a hand over mine. “You should know that you’re not a failure and you’re not just a woman. You are my woman,” he said in a low voice, squeezing my fingers in his hand. “Skata,” he muttered, scowling. From my little grasp on Greek, I knew that he’d just cursed. “It is my fault, Frankie. I didn’t realise. I was too stubborn. Perhaps if I’d been around...” His voice trailed off.

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. My doctor doesn’t...doesn’t know what caused it. But I do.” I stared deep into his eyes. “Don’t you see, Kon? It’s karma. For what I did to you. And I deserve it! I deserve every bit of awfulness I get!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he spat. “Who’s feeding you this bullshit?”

I sighed heavily, suddenly finding the floral pattern on my duvet interesting. A heavy silence blanketed us until, “Frankie, I love you, and though it’s incredibly disappointing that the baby’s gone, we have the rest of our lives together,” Konstantin said quietly. “We have a long time to actually try for a baby. Starting now.”

I looked up at him, my entire world still. “Did you say the rest of our lives?”

“Of course. I am never letting you go, Vega.” His intense eyes were unblinking.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wavering under his stare. There was so much passion in his voice. He was such a passionate man and all his passion was for me.“But you’re not holding me.”

He positioned himself behind me and his arms wrapped around me, effectively squeezing out every bit of doubt and worry in me and soothing the pain of the past awful weeks. “Better?” he wanted to know.

“Much better.”

“Do you know what would be even better?” His breath was on my neck and then his tongue was, too.

“What?” My head rolled back as his tongue sent tiny jolts of electricity through my skin.

“If you came to Heathrow with me today. That would make never letting you go much easier.”

I laughed, the first genuinely happy sound I’d made in weeks. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”

“I...” Konstantin’s hands traced the crook of my shoulder “...want...” His hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples pebbling through my T-shirt “...you...” He yanked my top apart “...naked.”

“That was Calvin Klein. Your