Page 98 of Forever, Maybe
He shot Nell a quick, bemused glance, but she shook her head, biting her lip hard enough to hurt. There was nothing she could do now, no way to stop the juggernaut barrelling toward her.
“So… erm… when’s the interview coming out?” Danny tried again.
Jennifer’s face didn’t soften. Her jaw was rigid, her eyes alight with spite. “Later this year. A lot’s been happening. My ex used to come here a lot, you know.” She gestured around the room with a sweeping motion, her smile brittle.
“Oh, aye?” Danny asked, attempting politeness.
“Couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
“Sorry about that,” Danny said awkwardly, shifting in his seat.
Jennifer’s laugh was harsh, jagged. “Don’t be. Who wants to stay with a slimeball, cheating bastard, eh?” She directed the last part straight at Nell.
Danny tried to catch Nell’s eye, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Like most men his age, he would rather invite someone to punch him than listen to a virtual stranger express raw emotion.
“Didn’t she ever tell you?” Jennifer turned to Danny, her voice arch and sharp, a smirk tugging at her lips. She radiated the certainty of someone who knew exactly what she was about to unleash.
Jennifer, don’t do this…Nell urged again, but the words stuck in her throat. Paralysis pinned her to the spot, every nerve on edge. The overpowering scent of Jennifer’s vanilla-and-cinnamon perfume mixed with her Bacardi-soaked breath, clinging to the air like a taunt. Nell’s eyes caught the meticulous detail of Jennifer’s makeup: russet-red eyeshadow above the crease, metallic mahogany below, and perfectly flicked black eyeliner that extended out like tiny blades.
Everything felt vivid. The dryness of her mouth. The sticky film on the table beneath her fingertips. The pulsing thud of music in the background, someone crooning about it being almost over now.
Almost over now.
“Tell me what?” Danny’s voice was taut with suspicion, his confusion etched into every syllable. “Look, have you got some kind of—”
Jennifer voice sliced through his question. “Turns out, one of the many, many sluts my ex screwed around with was your wife.” She let the words hang for a moment, her eyes gleaming as she studied Danny’s face. “They had a little one-night stand back in the day. Late at night, under the desk in the meeting room at White Lightning Communications. Nobody around. Nell on top. Classy, eh?”
Her voice had risen to compete with the music, the harshness in her tone making every word land like a slap.
Nell sat frozen, her heart pounding so hard it was almost deafening. Yet, even in her panic, part of her brain marvelled at the precision of Jennifer’s detail.Under the desk. Nell on top. God.
“I…” Nell’s voice cracked as she tried to speak, to say anything to stop the wreckage unfolding before her. Nothing came.
“Don’t bother denying it,” Jennifer sneered, inspecting her long, polished nails like a predator toying with its prey. “That slimeball told me everything. Don’t think you were special, or that he felt anything about you other than the fact that it was easy to persuade you to drop your slut knickers.”
Jennifer pushed back her chair and rose with a deliberate slowness, her shoulders rigid. “Lovely seeing you again, folks. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
She strolled away, the faux-casualness of her departure only amplifying the tension she left in her wake.
Danny’s gaze shifted to Nell, and the raw, visceral pain in his eyes made her flinch. Fury, disgust, betrayal—they all burned there, but it was the hurt that struck the hardest blow. Pain, deep and unguarded, was winning.
He stood abruptly, his knee banging against the table and sending the glasses wobbling precariously. Without a word, he turned and headed for the door, leaving Nell rooted to the spot, her world collapsing in slow motion around her.
She waited half an hour after Danny left, paralysed by fear and dread. Her legs refused to carry her out of the bar, so she ordered a double vodka and Diet Coke. It didn’t work. The burn of alcohol only deepened the ache in her chest, failing to deliver the numbness she craved.
What if I say this? What if I explain that?
None of the excuses she rehearsed seemed remotely sufficient to persuade Danny that she hadn’t really betrayed him—not in the way Jennifer had made it sound—and that he shouldn’t hate her.
Jennifer appeared to have buggered off, too. The coincidence was maddening. Jamie confessing his sins to her. Jennifer choosingthatnight to drink enough to fuel her righteous rage. Running into Nell and Danny on a rare Thursday night out. What were the odds? The universe had conspired to orchestrate her downfall.
It took her another hour to summon the courage to go home. The house greeted her with deafening silence. Danny wasn’t there. His car was still parked in its usual spot—he’d had too much to drink to drive—but in their bedroom, the open wardrobe told her all she needed to know. Clothes were missing. He’d gone.
She called his phone repeatedly. The first messages were simple:Call me, please.Then longer:We need to talk. I’ll explain everything.Finally, desperate:Danny, please. I’ll tell you everything. It was a one-off. A terrible mistake. One I’ve regretted every day since.
No reply.
She lay on top of their bed, still fully clothed, her phone clutched tightly in one hand. Exhaustion finally overtook her at four in the morning, and she fell into a restless sleep.
