Page 25 of Sorry, Not Sorry
‘Do you find it uncomfortable to talk about the next person on your list?’
‘Maybe,’ she said quietly.
‘Can you tell me why?’
Delilah gnawed on her lip and twirled her hair around her finger. How did you ask forgiveness from a man you hadn’t spoken to for three years and yet who still had the power to keep you awake at night?
‘He’s the one who—’ Her voice broke, and she stopped and shook her head.
Arne observed her in silence, saying nothing while she composed herself. Then he rose to his feet with a kindly smile.
‘I think that’s enough for today, Delilah.’
18
Delilah shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets to protect them from the late November chill. The fresh flowers she had just arranged into the brass vase brought a splash of colour to the white headstone.
‘I miss you so much, Mum.’ The silence swallowed her whispered words, and she crouched down to perch on the edge of the marble slab, letting her thoughts wander in the peaceful surroundings of the cemetery.
Salome’s challenge had started as a means to get her job back, but instead it had opened her eyes to a pattern with her relationships she had never appreciated before. After the conversations with Desmond and Kwame, followed by Carl’s bitter text messages, she had to wonder if she was so damaged that she could throw grenades into people’s lives and then move on without any accountability for her behaviour, much less any consideration about how the men might feel. If she had so little self-awareness, what hope was there of her ever becoming the skilled relationship counsellor she aspired to be?
She wasn’t a sociopath, Delilah thought sadly. She cared about the feelings of others, and she knew right from wrong. And yet, avoiding emotionally charged situations and burying unpleasant memories had been her survival strategy for years. Sometimes, memories were best left forgotten, but it seemed that between Salome’s list and the probing sessions with Arne, the past was being dragged from a blurry distance into an uncomfortably sharp present.
She ran her hand along the smooth marble of the tombstone and said aloud, ‘Sal’s been on my case for days and I can’t put it off any longer, so I’m going to contact him – Noah, I mean,’ she added, in case her mother needed clarification.
Leaning forward, she tweaked the stems of the colourful blooms. ‘I’m dreading this, Mum. I know I have to do it, but facing the others was tough enough – and I didn’t care about them the way I did about Noah.’
She sat still, letting the chirping from the birds on the branches overhead fill the silence. Dusk was falling and the gates to the cemetery would soon close, but she was reluctant to leave the comfort of her mother’s side.
‘You’ll be fine, Del. You are stronger than you know.’
Delilah closed her eyes and concentrated hard, straining to hear more. But the only sound was the rustling of leaves as the breeze moved through the trees.
19
‘What are you doing here?’
His voice was as arctic as the weather, and Delilah shivered from where she stood at the top of the stone steps of the converted Victorian terrace.
Noah was literally inches away, his broad shoulders blocking the entrance to the front door. He was in jeans and a grey sweater that clung to his broad chest and toned body, and she had clearly caught him unawares as his feet were bare. Although he towered over her, she was close enough to see the charcoal flecks in his light brown eyes and smell the faint tang of the familiar lemon cologne.
When she couldn’t answer, Noah stepped back and made as if to close the door, and Delilah impulsively stuck her booted foot into the space to stop him. She scoured his face hungrily, and seeing only contempt in his eyes, she felt the heat of humiliation clawing its way up from her chest and into her face. She felt wretched knowing she was the one who had caused her funny, loving and affectionate fiancé to look at her in this way. She had hurt him badly and he had every right to hate her, but he had to hear her out.
‘Please, Noah. I need to talk to you.’ The air felt trapped in her chest, and she sounded breathless, but she was determined not to move her foot and let him get rid of her.
‘How did you even find me?’ The minute he spoke the words, realisation dawned, and he shook his head with a groan. ‘Salome!’
Delilah nodded. ‘I swear I didn’t know she had your address until a few days ago. I tried and tried to call you after… well, after?—’
‘After you broke up with me literally twenty-four hours before we were supposed to get married? Is that what you’re struggling to say?’ he said harshly.
The reality of confronting Noah was far worse than she had anticipated, and the heat flooding her face intensified as she stared at him dumbly. In the scenarios she had rehearsed, not once had Noah looked at her with such fury and scorn, and she felt her heart cracking. The pressure of tears building behind her eyes was a warning that she would lose whatever self-control remained if she stayed a moment longer.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I – I shouldn’t have come.’ She removed her foot from where she had wedged it inside the door and turned away.
‘Wait!’
She kept her back to him and blinked back the gathering tears before slowly turning around.
