The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Twenty Two

Apparently, he doesn't. Oliver looks perplexed. Furious and perplexed. As he looks at me for a clue a weird unsettled feeling starts in my stomach, joining the ball of guilt and tension already festering there.

When I look at Aidan I can see he's toying with the idea of explaining himself; his jaw clenching as he nibbles the inside of his lip.

"Listen, if you have something you'd like to say to me or my wife then fucking say it," Oliver tells him.

Aidan steps toward him. "Oh, I have plenty of things I'd like to say to you, you arrogant fucking prick, but let's start with Nicole fucking Weston shall we? Or, should I say fucking Nicole Weston?"

I feel my face contort into confusion as I glance between him and my husband. Oliver still looks confused.

"Aidan, what are you talking about?" I ask quietly.

"Ask your fucking husband," he snaps without looking at me. His tone is sharp and hot. "I'm betting he wasn't on a fucking business trip at all. He was probably inside the woman who sat across from you at dinner the other night and told you how beautifully innocent and sweet you were. That right, Alford?"

Oliver's expression goes from shocked to amused, to simmering indignant rage.

"Are you fucking serious?" When it's clear Aidan is, in fact, serious Oliver's mouth curls up into a smirk and I feel a wave of animosity come from him, so hot my cheeks feel warm from it. "This is how you got her to fall into bed with you? A pack of fucking lies? How fucking desperate are you?" Oliver turns his glare on me. "You actually believed this? He told you this and you believed him?"

I'm stunned. "I... no... this is the first time I've heard any of this. Aidan, what are you doing? Why would you say this?"

Aidan sighs and runs a hand over his face and turns to face me. "Eloise, he's fucking her. Someone told me."

"Someone? What are you? A twelve-year-old girl?" Oliver sneers. "Someone's a fucking liar."

My face feels very hot now. I feel rage. Unexpected rage, at Aidan. Why would he say this? Here, now? Is he lying? To hurt me? Why? Why would I feel hurt about Oliver fucking Nicole anyway when I've spent the last four days fucking Aidan? I round on him fully.

"Why are you saying this?"

He frowns at me. "Because it's true. Because you deserve to know."

"If I deserve to know then why didn't you tell me?"

He skirts his eyes from mine, guilty, lost. When he talks his voice is small, quiet. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"You lying underhanded bastard," Oliver says, lunging forward.

I move out of the way as he raises his arm, Aidan turning to face him at the very same moment. The sound of a fist hitting his face is loud and fleshy, like a ripe fruit being dropped on a hard surface. I can only watch in horror as Aidan throws his own retaliatory punch upwards into the side of Oliver's face, catching him somewhere on the lower jaw. This can't be happening. It is happening. They're fighting. Two grown men fighting. In the kitchen of a beautiful rented lake house in upstate New York.

As I stand there numb with shock I assess the situation, and how badly this could end for each of them. Or rather, who's going to be worse off when it ends. Aidan, half-naked and a few inches shorter, looks the slightly more powerful of the two, but Oliver is taller and angrier. He's also fully dressed and looks to be constrained slightly by the fact, his lightweight jacket something for Aidan to grip onto and use as a weakness.