Deathless

Chapter 30: Millie

I spent the first hour convincing myself I'd overreacted. Jackson obviously had some romantic gesture planned. He'd be back any minute with some quirky surprise, like dragging home a DJ from Worship for our own private party. In my head, the gestures got more elaborate and ridiculous as time went on. Maybe he'd come back, sweep me into a car and we drive off to the airport. Maybe we were going to Paris? Imagine losing my virginity with the Eiffel tower in my eyeline.

Eventually, when the excitement got too much, I sent him a message, a carefully constructed sentence trying to sound casual and undisturbed, asking for an idea of how long he'll be, and trying not to show just how annoyed I was growing.

No reply.

After two hours, I settled into a streaming binge-fest, having reluctantly decided that Jackson probably had just gone to work after all. I had no idea where his office was, but I guessed a couple of hours would be about right—an hour to fix the crisis and an hour to drive there and back. He'd be back any minute, looking sheepish and full of apologies.

I sent a couple more messages, attempts to look like the understanding girlfriend had gone out the window the more time passed and the more I knew my anger wasn't only fair but justified.

Still no reply.

When it was getting closer to four hours, I re-heated the meal Jackson had made. I stomped through his flat, feet slapping loudly on the wooden floors, my fork scraping the ceramic bowl as I stuffed rice into my mouth.

Around midnight, accepting that the night was ruined, I started on my birthday cake. It was truly a gorgeous concoction of juicy strawberries and rich chocolate, but I demolished slice after slice with little care. Making sure that Jackson's painfully tidy flat was coated liberally in crumbs. Whatever time Jackson showed up now, I was too mad, too unhappy to enjoy anything he might have planned. Any thoughts of sex seemed ridiculous. Eventually, with the light of the TV screen still flickering, and the lights and noise of the city keeping me company through the window, I fell into an uncomfortable, unwilling sleep.

I wake to the sound of a key turning in the lock. It takes a second to remind myself where I am, the morning sun blinding me as I open tired, sore eyes. I sit up awkwardly, his footsteps making their way to the settee, a blanket still wrapped around me.

Jackson looks like crap. He looks like he'd lost a battle with a tornado, his dark hair messed up, sticking out at all angles, his clothes in disarray. His face is a sickly grey colour, frozen in what I could only describe as a shock. Though I can see all these things, and in any normal situation I would leap up, needing to know what had happened, needing to know he was OK, but all I can see is the red haze of fury. All I could see and feel was my own rage. I jump off the settee and quickly start gathering my things. When I check my phone, I see the time is six-thirty. He's been gone almost twelve hours.

"Won't be long, huh? Be back as soon as you can, right?" I stuff my phone into my bag and start searching for my jacket.

"Millie..."

"You couldn't have answered a single message? Don't have a signal in your office, huh?"

"I'm sorry I..."

"Maybe I made too big a deal of last night, expected too much." I turn to look at him, but his expression is flat, revealing nothing but unhappiness. "You knew what I wanted, what I was hoping for... and it definitely wasn't humiliation."

"No... that's not..."

"If this was too much, if... if this is your way of saying you're still not ready for a relationship then you could have said, you didn't need to..." I can't finish the words, I'm too angry, too out of control. I walk to the door, clumsily slipping on the shoes I'd left just beside the wall. He looks at me but says nothing.