Shelter In Your Love (Beatles Fan Fiction)

40. Simply Shady

The rest is simply shady,
It's all been done before,
But it doesn't make life simple,
That's for sure.

'I'm sorry, baby,' Ricky says, only quietly but his voice makes me jump. I'd thought he was still asleep.

The curtains in the bedroom are thin. Sky blue, cotton, unlined; the light - and a cold draught - permeated without obstruction, and woke me early. I didn't sleep very well anyway. I'm lying on my back in our double bed, everything that happened last night replaying in my head on a loop.

George kissed me. And I kissed him.

I know why I kissed him. I don't know why he kissed me.

Last year, on the tour, we were together so much. He could have tried to kiss me anytime, but he didn't. Not properly. No, George had to wait until that moment last night. The most inappropriate, unromantic, risky, unexpected, perfect moment he could have picked.

Why did he even come to the party? Just to hurt me? Just to flaunt his beautiful new wife? To provoke jealousy? Out of spite?

But George isn't spiteful. He's not mean or cruel. I can't really say that he acts all that jealous either.

Maybe it was a genuine gesture. To show me he's not angry or upset. To show me he's fine, he's moved on. He's not bothered I didn't come home with him. Perhaps we can be friends.

So, why did he kiss me then?

I'd like to kiss him again. Maybe that's wrong, but it's the truth. I can't stop thinking about kissing him. I'm lying here, next to my husband, and I can't stop thinking about kissing another man. More than just kissing, if I'm honest.

Oh, I hate myself. I loathe that I feel this way. I deserve everything I get. Everything I will get, if that guy - that Bobby - says something to Ricky.

John and George and their company had gone when we went inside, Minnie too. The others stayed, drinking together in the front room until the early hours of the morning. Bobby was with them. He didn't do anything. He didn't even acknowledge what had happened, but I could feel him watching me all night. Perhaps he's just waiting for an opportunity to speak to Ricky alone.

George told me to call him. I don't know if I should. I don't have his phone number, and where can it lead, other than to more heartache and trouble?

No, I can't see him. I can't ever see him again.

'You're not speaking to me?' Ricky asks, because I haven't responded. He moves onto his side to face me and the bedcovers fall down his chest.

I pull the eiderdown over myself more, up to my neck, and try to resist the urge to move further away from him.

He smiles faintly. 'I am sorry, baby. You know I have a temper.' He puts his hand out to me, under the blankets, and strokes my stomach gently. 'You shouldn't push me like you do. If you kick a dog for long enough, eventually he's going to bite you. It's your own fault if you do that. It's your... It's like you do it on purpose. Do you, Hannah? Do you do it just to see how far you can push me?'

I shake my head. 'No,' I say and my voice is so slight, it's nearly nothing.

I can't think that I did do anything to push him. There are certain subjects I always avoid talking about but nothing came up last night. I can usually tell, now, when he's getting angry like that. He goes really quiet, just before. Chews his lip or bites his cheek, like he's trying to keep it all in, trying to swallow it. I never noticed last night.  Ricky has never done anything with people in the house. It never occurred to me that he would. There was the party, other things preoccupying me, but I should have been more careful.