The Wrong Sister Part 3
Sunday wasn't a good day for me. Hangovers in my thirties had always been brutal, and this one was exacerbated by the feeling of confusion and hurt as I recalled what had happened between me and my brother-in-law. Another secret and sudden tryst had ended with an equally sudden shunning from Will as I had sought to bring him home with me.
It was the suddenness that I couldn't get my head around. The sex had somehow been even more incredible than his wedding, with what felt like an even more intense connection between the two of us. An unspoken understanding I couldn't even begin to describe. I was sure he must have felt something similar between us, that I knew him well enough that he wouldn't just fuck me and leave.
Until he did just that.
I could understand feeling guilty after what we'd done, but to just leave without a word? And, just to confuse me more, to kiss me before running off?
I remained part of the walking dead for most of Sunday, only leaving the house to go to the chemist and get another morning after pill to stop an unwanted pregnancy with Will. For a moment I considered going on birth control, but surely it wouldn't happen again. Especially after how he'd left me in the club.
Gabby and Jo returned from their weekend with their father in the early evening and I get a look of utter disdain from him for my shambolic appearance at the door. It flares anger within me that he'd judge me so, and I mouth a "fuck off" at him as I close the door and become a mother once more, rather than a jilted lover.
The hangover had numbed me I realised, and the dismissive look my ex had given me had kicked my feelings back into life. I considered what had happened in the club bathroom, and how Will had treated me, and I started to feel the anger I should have felt when he had walked away from me. I realised I should have chased after him and demanded answers, even though I knew that with the emotions and alcohol in play that would have been another mistake.
But God I wanted answers.
It was anger that would slowly bubble over the next few days as I stewed on these thoughts. The anger was created of the hurt at how Will had treated me, mixed with the feelings I had foolishly let myself have for him.
The concoction wasn't good for me. And I knew I needed to speak to him and find out why the idea of coming back to my empty house had made him run away from me as fast as he could manage. Even though I could probably guess why he did it, it's not something I want to acknowledge because it means understanding that I'm being selfish.
Long days, the stress of being a single mother and then painfully lonely nights exacerbate the anger I feel with Will. No longer do I whimper his name out into my dark bedroom as I lay in a tangle of sheets in a bed too big for just me. No, I don't whimper his name, but I can't stop thinking about him and how he had felt both times we've shared our bodies with each other.
By the end of the week, and with no contact from him, I am furious. At him. At myself. At the whole situation. Furious enough to do something stupid.
My shift is an early one on Friday, which means when I finish around two in the afternoon I have some time before I have to pick my daughters up from school. The anger has festered, my thoughts full of cackling ghosts telling me that he's laughing at his older sister-in-law for letting him fuck her twice now. How he's laughing with Hannah at how pathetic I am for giving him my body so easily.
Rationally I know it's not the case - I know Will. I like Will. But those memories were distorted with this new, nasty version in my head, and I needed to see the real one to siphon the poison that was beginning to harm me so. And ask him what the fuck he thought he was playing at.
As Hannah is a teacher, and Will works from home as an architect, I knew he'd be alone. He must have some kind of sixth sense, because when I pull up onto his driveway and get out of my car, he's stood on the threshold to his house looking pensive.
And so he fucking should be.
"We need to talk," I growl, striding past him and into his house, kicking off my shoes in his hallway because I know how his wife feels about stains on her pristine carpets. Apparently I respect Hannah enough to not traipse dirt through her house, but not to stop her husband from fucking me in a club bathroom.
Their living room is bright and airy, with bright white walls decorated with gorgeous golden picture frames of the wedded couple. I pause for a moment on my way through the room, looking at the large picture of Will holding Hannah in his arms on their wedding day. Both wear beautiful smiles, and I bitterly think they're as fake as the vows they'd shared. Vows as hollow as I had felt for the past week.
I quickly move into the kitchen and dining area and place my handbag on one of the dining chairs as I wait for Will to appear, pacing with my head down as I hear the slow shuffle of feet in the living room grow louder. I look up as he enters and acknowledge him properly for the first time since I've arrived. And I'm surprised to see that, for once, Will doesn't look great. There are bags under his eyes and a slump to his shoulders, and if I was to take a guess, it would be that he wasn't sleeping well.
For a moment I feel the tiniest pang of guilt, but I quickly bury it under the self-righteous fury I've accumulated and start my tirade.
"What the fuck happened? Eh? Do you want to give me a fucking reason why you just left me on Saturday night?"
Will doesn't look at me, his eyes focused on the kitchen window and his arms tight across his chest. I know he's taking time to reply because I know he's the sort to consider his response to an important question. But I'm not in a patient mood, so when I bark a "Well?" at him, it draws his eyes to mine and I see a flash of frustration in them.
"I'd have thought that was quite clear. I shouldn't have even accepted the offer in the first place. It was a mistake."
"A mistake?!" I almost shout. "A mistake to fuck me twice?"
"No," Will sighs, hand reaching up to rub his face wearily. "No that's not what I meant Izzy. I meant... fuck I don't know what I meant. I mean it was a mistake, wasn't it? You said as much before the club that we shouldn't have done it, and then you asked me back to yours!"
"And you happily fucked me again!" I snap at him, hands curled into fists at my side. "You didn't have to say yes."
"And what would have happened if I'd said no?" he demands of me, and now it's my turn to look away and contemplate what might have happened. His sarcastic mimicry of my impatient "Well?" doesn't improve my mood though, and my nostrils flare as I look back at him angrily.
"Maybe I shouldn't have asked," I say darkly. "But you put the idea into my head that you wanted more. You said it was a shame that you didn't make me cum. So I guess you can tick that off your fucking bucket list now, can't you? Is that it? Fuck me one more time to add a notch onto your bedpost and then fuck me off?"
I hate how my voice sounds - so bitter and hate-filled for someone I have been so close to in the past. And I hate how Will practically recoils from it, from me, as I throw those words at him. "That's not it at all Izzy," he replies weakly, but I'm too full of myself now and steamroller over him.
"No? Because that's how it looks. Just a hole in which to get your dick wet. Was that all it was?"
"No!" Will says forcefully, breathing heavily now and looking slightly pale. "If I went back with you, then what? I fuck you some more, probably. And after that... what? Like... What am I doing to you? What am I offering you other than pain down the road? And what about Hannah too - you said yourself she doesn't deserve this. I shouldn't have even gone into that bathroom with you but... fuck Izzy you looked so good."
"So that's it then - you only fucked me because I was dressed up?"
Will sighs, exasperated with my argumentative nature. I watch him roll his eyes and then see the anger and frustration return to his facial features, and I wonder whether I am pushing him too far. Certainly his tone shifts when he replies, now more of a growl of warning.
"You know that's not it Izzy. You know how..." he starts, then with a pained look on his face he shakes his head, as if convincing himself not to say something. "Look, I told you why. I told you why I couldn't go home with you."
I'm too angry to listen, and too hurt to care. "Yeah, you used me once and got what you wanted when I was dressed up pretty for you." I snap. "But when I've come off a long shift and my hair is a mess, you don't give a fuck."
"Izzy!" Will roars, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me against the kitchen wall. In that instant I know a moment of fear, wondering whether I've gone too far. "I never wanted to use you." he says, voice dark and menacing. It's a side of Will I've never seen before, but not one I'm scared of.
There's a pause, both of us breathing heavily as we consider our next words. I manage to get mine out before he does.
"Maybe I want to be used," I hiss at him, chin tilted defiantly upwards as I meet his eyes. It's a gaze we hold for what feels like forever until we both move at the same time, kissing one another recklessly.
There is nothing gentle about the kiss. There was too much heat in our argument for it to be anything other than passionate, almost angry kissing. This was a release for both of us, obvious from the way he gripped my hair in his strong hands and the way mine slid all over his strong torso.
