Sometimes he loves me

Chapter 12

EMMA

"Why can't you come tonight?" I ask the moment Vincent picks up his phone. He only texted me five minutes ago, cancelling our plans. I was looking forward to his arrival today, and the long weekend together. Having someone to talk to would have been nice after such a long week. Especially now that there's another party going on...

"Sorry babe, I still have a lot to do at work. Fridays are usually the busiest, you know that. I'll be there tomorrow okay? Then we'll do something fun." He says.

Always fucking busy.

"I wanted to talk to you about our phone call from last Tuesday..." I say softly. I know I promised myself to bring this up face to face but I can't keep it to myself any longer. I keep thinking about the noises that girl made on the phone. Could it have been a colleague? A trainee? Or maybe I heard it all wrong and there was nothing to worry about. I just want clarity.

"What about it?" He asks. I can hear him typing on the computer. He sounds like he doesn't know what I'm talking about and I'm ashamed to have to explain.

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror and run my free hand through my black hair. "I wanted to talk about it face to face actually." I admit.

I walk to the bathroom door and unlock it. I'd rather go back to my room to have this conversation since the music isn't as loud there.

"Just tell me what it is." He sighs, I can hear his chair creak as if he is leaning back. I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Despite my nerves, I smile at those thoughts. Even miles away I know how he moves and behaves. But when I take in what he's saying, I get nervous again.

My hand was already on the door handle, ready to leave the only private bathroom in this building and push myself through the crowd of partying people, but my frustration makes me walk back to the sink without opening the door.

"Do you really not remember what happened? Not even a clue of what I'm talking about?" I ask with an irritated look at myself in the mirror.

"No, Em. I have no idea. Why do you act like this? Are you on your period or something?" Now he sounds irritated too. I hate it when he involves my period, not every emotion can be linked to that terrible bleeding!

"I thought I..." I say, and I glance at myself in the mirror again, my vision already blurry. My frustration has suddenly made way for sadness at the idea of ​​Vincent with someone else. "No, never mind, it's nothing." I finally say, afraid I've heard it all wrong.

"You'll see me tomorrow okay?" He says, again in a sweet tone, the tone I love so much.

"Yeah, okay... see you tomorrow." I sigh and he hangs up.

I blink twice, the tears spilling from my eyes. I have no reason to cry, yet the tears are streaming down my cheeks like a waterfall. I let my hands support me on the sink as I try to prevent having a panic attack. I inhale through my nose but when I want to blow the air out through my mouth, I start crying even harder. Fuck. I slam the sink once, twice and then the door flies open making me look up in shock.

Sweatpants guy walks in with his back to me, as he finishes a conversation with someone, laughing. When he closes the door behind him and turns to me, his eyes widen with shock, but he recovers quickly.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." He smiles but when he sees my tears and rapid breathing, his look becomes serious. "What happened, darling?" He asks.

I'm leaning on the sink with one hand by now and my other hand hangs numb alongside my body. I feel like I look really dumb but I don't know how else to stand.

"Nothing, it's-" My voice is hoarse, so I clear my throat. "It's not important."

He takes a step towards me and brings his hand to my wet cheek. I feel so safe at his touch that it doesn't occur to me to stop him, I let him wipe my tears away.

"Whatever it is, it makes you sad. So it is important, darling." He whispers.

I don't know why, but when I hear those words my eyes shoot to his and I feel like I'm really looking at him for the first time. Really seeing him.

His expression is a mixture of a lot of emotions and I can't place them. Regret? Trust? Pain? Whatever he feels, I feel like I'm feeling the same thing. And I feel like I want to share this with him. I want to tell him what's bothering me.

"It's just a little miscommunication between me and Vincent... my boyfriend. He doesn't seem to really want to talk about... about something I keep thinking about. I'm sure it was nothing, but I just wanted to hear that from him." I explain.

"And now you're standing here, crying, trying to convince yourself it was nothing." His gaze wanders to my lips, making me aware of how close he is standing to me.

I have to take a step back, I would hate it if Vincent was standing so close to a woman while talking. So I do, I take a step back and his fingers slide from my cheek to my forearm.

When the back of his hand brushes softly past the one week old burned spot, I flinch. Not because it hurts, it's almost healed, ready to become a small scar. It's just a reflex I guess.

I quickly try to hide my arm but he stops me. He looks at it confused and then at me with that same look. It takes a while for the penny to fall, but as soon as it falls, his eyes turn into a look that can kill a thousand people at once.

Before I can say anything or think of an excuse at all, he asks, "Who did this? Your boyfriend?"

I pull my arm free and wrap it around my stomach with my other arm folded over it so he can't see the burn anymore.

"No of course not." I lie.

"You know this is assault, right?" Anger still shines through his eyes, but concern takes over. Why would he be concerned about me? He doesn't even know me.

"Vincent has a lot on his mind at work and sometimes it just gets too much for him, and then he just slips up. It's nothing." I reply.

Damn I should have just kept my mouth shut, because now I've more or less admitted that Vincent did this.

"A lot on his mind? That's no excuse to hurt someone like this. And this is not just a slip up, Emma."

He cautiously takes my hand, and I let him. He looks at the burn one more time. It gives me a strange feeling that he's looking at something Vincent did to me. I've never shown anyone.

"He pressed a cigarette into your skin." He states, recognizing the shape.

I pull my hand away again. "Stop! Just fucking stop. What do you care, huh? You don't even know me!" I yell.

"I know you better than you think, Snow White." He finally says, not even raising his voice a little bit. He's so calm and it drives me crazy.

"This is between Vincent and me. We've been together for four years and I have only known you for a week, so don't you dare interfere!" I storm past him out of the bathroom and run straight to my room. I slam my room door shut and lock it. Who does he think he is? He's got nothing to do with me, and it's none of his business what's going on between Vincent and me.

Sobbing, I lay on my bed and look at my arm. I know who Vincent really is, and he's not as mean as people think. He's just not good at expressing himself.