Emma and I made dinner while everybody else was hard at work. I didn't say a word at the dining table. I barely said a word to Marcel either. I debated whether to worry him with the doubts circling my mind now or not. I thought it best to keep it to myself, but it obsessed me. I went back to my sculpture after dinner to change my mind, but Marcel joined Logan and I in the veranda and I just kept on spiralling. I would have questioned Marcel then and there if Logan weren't with us in the room. So I held it in. I held it in, and I tried my best to breathe in and out, sensing the eventual panic attack that would rise.
Eventually, I can't focus on my work anymore and look at my boyfriend next to me. Marcel is half-laid on the couch with a book on his lap. When I see him turn the last page of his chapter, I decide to put it all on the line.
I lean in and murmur to him, "do you think we could talk in private?"
He turns his head towards me, a growing frown on his face, but nods in response. I wipe my hands on the cloth on my work table and get up. I hear his book close and his footsteps follow me to the bedroom.
The knot in my throat makes me want to throw up even more than it did all afternoon. I don't know how to approach him or how to question him. He senses that something is wrong. I see it in his eyes, the way he looks at me, the way I keep avoiding his eyes for too long.
I make sure the door is closed behind us and walk to the bed. I can't stay seated for more than a few seconds. My heart races in my chest. I'm barely able to contain myself with fear and anxiety. Last time I felt like that, I was leaving Kate's house. And I had just experienced the worst panic attack I had ever experienced.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
"Grace? What is it?" Marcel stops me from walking around and takes my cheeks into his hands. He dives his eyes into mine, forcing me to look at him. I can't hold his gaze for more than two consecutive seconds. "Grace?"
The knot rises to my throat. My lips tremble as cold sweat sting my skin with utter discomfort. I can't find the right way to ask him.
"Is Kristoff Alexander in prison?" I blur out, my heart in my throat, sweat dripping down my back.
It takes seconds before Marcel understands the words that came out of my mouth. His puzzled and worried look changes the second he makes sense of my question. The violence of his reaction scares me to the bone.
Marcel lets go of me, and steps back. He isn't even at arm's length anymore. His eyes grow dark, and I see him shield himself. Every muscle in his body stiffens. His gaze has drained of the love it held seconds ago. We mirror each other's visible state of panic and I realise how foolish I might have been not to question this sooner.
"Why do you ask me that?"
Every word is slowly spoken. Each holds the weight of a heavy and terrible truth I had no idea was at stake when I questioned him.
"I was talking with Logan and Emma earlier. And we touched the subject. And it got me thinking that with all the money he has, he could be walking free awaiting the trial."
My tone is soft, hopeful, seeking comfort from the state of panic I have been in for half the day. I step towards him, reaching for the protection he always gives me. The security he shields me with.
"He isn't."
His coldness refrains me from reaching out to him. He stares blankly at me, now at arm's length from him, but feeling so distant. He feels like a soldier given an order. He is emotionally absent, obeying to the rules with no sense of self. I get scared of him. I've never seen him so shielded before. The man in front of me is not my Marcel. And that worries me.
What does he know? What is he not telling me?
"You are sure?" I push him to confirm his words, because everything about his attitude makes me fear the worst.
"Yes."
The dry tone cuts my heart with a knife. He doesn't look at me, but right ahead. He is nonexistent in the manner that matters. He is triggered. He is protecting himself the only way he knows how. He is barely breathing. His posture is so tightly straight, he looks like a marionette awaiting command.
"Marcel?" I coo carefully, stealing a step closer from him. I hope with my entire loving beating heart that a careful proximity will bring him back.
He doesn't look at me. He bites his lips together with strength. White spreads on his face as the only colour on his features. I raise my hand gently to caress his cheek. Everything in me screams to touch him, love him, to break the strong shell of hard rock he is putting around him at the mention of him. I try to wrap my head around his entire behaviour.
This is not normal, not even for Marcel.
"Talk to me, baby." I invite him with a soft kiss on his cheek. He closes his eyes as tightly as he holds his lips shut. I spread my love with tender pecks on his temple, on his tight lips, to the other cheek, on his nose. I only stop when I taste salt on my lips and I feel him trembling between my hands now cupping both cheeks.
I part to look at the man before me. He is sobbing quietly. My heart races with pure instinct of love and protection. What has him struggling so much? I kiss each tear until he opens his eyes to reveal the darkness had gone. Not gone, but metamorphosed into fear.
"I'm here. Whatever this is, whatever you hold in here", I press a hand to his heart, and look back up at him, my heart crying to help him and bring the love back into his eyes, "we are going to face it together."
He shakes his head. He looks troubled like I have never seen him before, and it makes me want to be here for him all the more. He wiggles out of my embrace to walk to the bed. He sits on the edge and leans forward to take his head between each palms.
I've never seen him so distraught, it wrecks everything in me. I want to help him. I want to change his mind. I want to forget I ever brought up the subject.
I don't think of anything else to do. I take the hem of my wool oversized shirt and lift it up above my head. I take it off and throw it next to him on the bed. I step forward and climb onto his lap. I straddle him comfortably, expecting him to put his hands on me, undo my bra and rush his mouth on me. But he doesn't. He doesn't, even after I roll my hips against him to raise the temperature between us. His only response is to abandon himself to me. He leans into, his forehead nuzzled against my chest as I hear the full on sobs that take over him.
Panic arises in my body and I rush my arms around him to keep him close. I feel his tears against my chest. All I can do is embrace him tighter to me and run my fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp.
"I love you. I'm here for you. Please let me in. Let me carry this burden with you. Whatever this is."
"I don't deserve you." Is the first thing he says, and it only strengthens my embrace. I press my lips to his head.
"Don't say that. It's not true."
"I've been lying to you." He finally admits, his words half muffled against my bare skin.
I don't move away. Although I'm shook, I guessed as much. I didn't know lying to me troubled him so, but he told me he wasn't going to tell me things, and I had to admit it. It was a difficult swallow, but it didn't change what mattered.
"Why don't you tell me everything?"
"I don't want to lose you."
"Did you do something that you regret?"
"No."
"Did you hurt somebody?"
"No."
"Did you do something that would hurt me?"
He doesn't answer me. I just feel a subtle tug on my torso. A nod.
"Une vérité avouée est à moitié pardonnée." I tell him in response, bracing myself for the truth I asked of him. It can't really be translated, but I know he understood that if he told me the truth, it would already be half forgiven.
He parts from me slowly. The hands that held him tight to me loosen to now rub my thumbs under his eyes to wipe the tear from his cheeks.
Breathe in. Breathe out. I remind myself, bracing for the truth.
"I'm scared, Grace. I'm terrified."
"Hey..." I coo again and press a soft kiss to his lips. "What are you scared of?"
"Everything. There is so much at stake... We have opened Pandora's box, Grace. And I'm scared. I'm scared for our lives."
"Our lives?"
"Have you never wondered why we stayed in hotels instead of driving back to London? Most places we visited were only an hour or so away from London, but we stayed in hotel rooms for every single book signing we did."
"No. I thought it was only because you wanted to share my bed again. It was your way to get us alone together."
"I didn't want you alone in London."
"Why?"
His head is still low. He shakes it from left to right, fighting himself. I don't know where it's coming from. But I don't think I'm fully prepared for the impact of the truth he is about to tell me.
"The day I tell you we flee, we flee."
I frown and take his chin between two fingers to force his eyes into mine. I replay his words into my head four times, trying to sense another meaning then what I make out of it.
Once he lets his gaze come up to me, my whole body shivers. I feel the coldness and the distance behind them. I feel how scared he is from the cold touch of his skin, and the gravity with which he said every word of his sentence.
"If he gets out, if he employs somebody, whatever the reason, if I hear something, we hide. We leave London."
"You are scaring me, Mace."
"Since the day you told me it was him, I've been terrified. I know him. I know what he has done to Kate. I know how he operates. I know just how Kate has always hid me from him." His face is expressionless. The colours have drained from his features, except from the blue on his lips. "That's why we went on tour. That's why we're here now. That's why Kate's been away. We are all afraid of him, of his money, of his influence. The law doesn't apply to people like him, Grace."
"Are you saying that he is sending people after us?"
"I don't know. I don't know if the threats were real or not. But you need to realise the gravity of the situation. That's why I was panicking when you came to Montreal alone. You should never be alone."
"You left me alone."
"Because I went back to London last month to stop him from leaving on bail."
"That's why you left me on my birthday?"
He hesitates, shifts his posture, straightens it, and nods silently. His eyes are still avoiding me. I know something else is up. So I keep on questioning him.
"There's more to the story than just that. But you have to trust me when I say that it's all taken care of until the trial. We are waiting for a court date."
"So they found Kate?"
"Must have."
"Good. What's next now?"
"We'll be subpoenaed, and we'll have to testify."
"In front of a jury?"
"Maybe, he has to decide which court to appeal to. Either Magistrate court or the Crown court. But he'll surely plead not guilty to the Crown Court to have a higher chance to be acquitted."
"I'm scared."
"Me too." He swallows hard. He takes my hands and takes a very deep breath in. He bites down his lower lips, with his eyes looking at our joined hands. "And I'm lying to you."
I try to contain myself. I try to make it easier for him to tell me the truth, but I'm livid.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
"What are you lying about?" My tone is civilised, but all of my defence mechanisms are on high alert.
"I'm still in contact with Kate." I bite down on my lip, to stop it from wobbling. Tears fill my eyes silently. But internally, I hear my heart crack. And it's deafening. "I'm in contact with her because I wanted her to come back from hiding."
"Where was she?"
"She didn't say. She's with Paul. And I've convinced her to come back and testify."
"I thought spouses couldn't testify against each other."
"They can if they want to."
"And you convinced her to do it? Not because it was the reasonable thing to do? But because you asked her to? This is ridiculous."
"I know you must be mad. You have every right to be mad at me. But Kate received a threat and it included you. I just lost my mind. It's the only reason I responded to her messages, but he had threatened you."
Everything is suddenly clicking together. She called him when we met Logan in London. He was distraught for days. And she must have called him on Halloween. And he came running. And he made me feel like shit. He got the nerve to force me into a new story, to work, to cover for his lies.
"I'm sorry. I only did what I thought best for you."
I'm happy you were finally honest with me. But realise this, I've opened you the door to be honest with me before and you refused. You should have told me everything from the get go, and I would have understood and supported you. I feel betrayed. Again.
I shake my head endlessly. I don't get it. I don't get the lies at all. Does he not trust me? Am I not worthy of the truth? Why can't I share this burden with him? I run my fingers under my eyes to dry my cheeks.
I stand there and force myself to look at him. Silence weighs over us. I can't seem to find the right words. We always have this fight, and I never seem to get my point across. I never seem to find the right words to express my feelings. And I'm tired of fighting.
I take another breath in and out. I gather my blurred thoughts. I face him and calm myself.
"I'm hurt. I am hurt. And I feel like no matter what happens we'll never get out of the woods. Kate will always be in our lives. Whether it's because of her own doings or your own selfish intentions. And I'm tired. I'm exhausted from fighting for your love with her."
"To me, this is so clear. It's you. It's always going to be you. I'm so sorry, Grace. I did this for you, to protect you."
"Stop..." I hush him, and lean closer to him. My eyes dive deep into his, my words speaking from my soul to his, trying to make my point across calmly. "Thank you for your honesty. I'm touched that you thought about me and my mental health by trying to shield me from the truth. I hear you. Now, hear me. I want to share your burdens. I love you, and I want the best for you. And I want to help you as we navigate this life together. Realise that by keeping me in the dark, you are putting me in a different boat, to slowly make me drift away. I feel like your castaway. And that hurts."
Saying it all gives me a new sense of relief. I said it calmly to show him that I'm on his team. That I come from such a place of love.
"If you want the truth, I'll give you the truth." He sighs loudly, and lets his body shift on the bed.
"Tell me." I plead softly.
"Kate reached out to me a month after you went to the police."
"No. Start from the beginning. What happened when I left you at her house that night?"
"I got inside, and collapsed against the door. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what was real or not. I had both books in my hands. She heard me and came to the door. She thought I was here to–"
"To fuck her. You can say it." My retort is bitter, but we weren't together anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if she indeed had her way anyway.
"To play." He corrects me, and continues. "I was just gobsmacked. I blamed her. I told her what you had told me. And the distress I saw in her eyes was real. She showed me his secret study. We looked everywhere for the wallet, to see the proof for ourselves. We tried to get the safe open but we couldn't. And when she learned that you were at the police station turning him in, she got terrified. I had never seen her like that before. She was unlike everything I have known her to be. She went upstairs to pack, to run away. She– She asked me to go with her. I refused. And I left. A month after that, she texted me that he had threatened her if she didn't come back with the money she had stolen from him. If she didn't come back, he said he would come for me and for you."
"Why me?"
"You are the reason he is in prison. You are the most important witness so far. Unless somebody comes forward about witnessing the murder, you are the most important witness on the list. When trial comes, you will have to be cross-examined. You will have to answer tough questions."
"About what? I know nothing."
"You will be asked about our relationship, the nature of it, why you were at his residence. They will probably try to prove that you've trespassed on his property, to get the video you took dismissed in a court of law."
"How can they do that?"
"They can trick you into saying something wrong to discredit you, make it seem like you weren't invited or a welcome party. That's why Kate is important. She invited you in when you showed up. If she doesn't say that, you could be discredited and all the evidence you have gathered will be inadmissible."
"What motivation could she have to clear my name? She hates me. What about our families? What about your Mum?"
"I took care of everything. Everybody knows what they need to."
"What do you mean?"
"Sophie called me from the police station. I told her to stay with you, always. Then, you moved in with your brother in Manchester. I came to your graduation to fill Simon in. I needed him to know what was at stake here. To protect you and to be prepared if anyone were to show up at his flat. We stayed in touch after that. We met when he drove you down to London for your book release. He left you at Sophie's and joined me after. I told him about my plan to join you on your book tour. I asked him for advice to make you trust me again. It wasn't easy. It really wasn't easy. It was easier to deal with the threats when you were with your brother. I had you sleeping next to me, hating me, and I couldn't wrap myself around the fact that the person I love most in this world not only hates the shit out of me, but is another target on a millionaire's hitlist. I felt powerless. For weeks I didn't sleep. I had to fight every instinct in me to protect you and to just let you be, to grow, to blossom. It wasn't easy."
"What happened next?"
"Then, one day, Mum called me saying she had a strange visitor in her office. That's when I invited everybody up to Manchester. I wanted Sophie and Mum out of London. We hired more security. Every employee now has a card to enter their offices. I've increased the security at my mum's house as well."
"What about Kate?"
"Kate had been silent until that phone call that night. I hated myself for leaving you. And lying to you. But I couldn't not go. And I couldn't bring you with me, and let his lawyer see you, know what you mean to me, or know anything about you that they don't already know. His lawyers are as ruthless as him. But I testified that I feared for our lives, so bail was denied."
"Do you really think we are in that great of a danger?"
"No... But that shouldn't mean that we must not be careful. For all we know, the stranger in my mum's office could have been anyone and not even be related to him. But I will never risk the people I love ever again. I'll die before I let anything happen to you."
"Is that a promise?"
"If you want it to be..."
I lean in and my lips are met with his. My heart overflows with love for him, but some part of me is still reserved, and I need to get to the bottom of this to finally free myself from Kate.
"But why is Kate only coming forward now? Why not shield herself with police officers if she knows things?"
"I don't know if what she did was smart, but when she fled, Kate took a lot of money from him. A lot of money. That's why he hasn't been going after any of us with the full extent of his power. Maybe she thought she could escape him."
"I saw her passport in his safe. So she can't even leave the country."
"That must be part of the reason why she is coming forward, she wants her freedom back. But I know that now, she wants to take down her husband more than ever."
"Why would she want to take her husband down? I can't imagine ever wanting to take you down if you were to be my husband."
He leans back and stops breathing. The darkness vanishes in his eyes, and pure jade looks right back at me. He has a loving smile now gradually growing on his lips. Glowing.
"You want me to be your husband?"
I roll my eyes, mirroring his smile, and shake my head in response.
"This isn't what this is about."
"I don't care about anything else but your answer to my question."
"I thought you collared me to marry me one day, was I wrong?"
"No. You weren't wrong."
"Then why lie to me?"
"I'm scared, Grace. I really am. I'm petrified. And I thought it would be selfish to burden you with it all. I didn't want you to have sleepless nights and panic attacks like I have."
"I didn't know you were struggling. And I hate myself for not being there for you like you have been for me."
"I don't want you to hate yourself over something that happened and you didn't know anything about. I'm all the more grateful that you love me, and that you want to be there for me. It was worse when we weren't together. But you are here now, and you are so effortlessly making me happy, it distracts me from it all. I selfishly thought it could stay the same if you were unaware."
"So let's find ourselves a distraction from our reality."
"A distraction, you say?"
"Yeah. Something to focus on instead of panicking over what might happen."
"Let's focus on us. On being truthful. On loving each other. Until death do us part."
"What are you saying?"
"Marry me. Marry me, Grace."