Matthew's POV
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Emily does snore although she argues profusely about it, but as I turn over in the large bed and look out of the sash window at the misty morning I know that she is hungover and the snoring will be worse. The trees sway in the grounds, large oaks and for a few minutes I think about drawing them. The problem is when I do indulge in drawing or painting, it's something that I'm totally free with. And most of my sketches seem to involve her, so in the pursuit of distancing myself from my love I have refrained from drawing entirely. Rain patters and the water runs down the panes of glass. I watch it feeling utterly cold and empty as I lay next to Emily. And if I could rewire my brain I would. If there was a process that I could put myself through in order to make myself fall in love with her I would without a shadow of a doubt.
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Emily's hands pulls me back and I resist but when she persists I turn over, facing her as she opens her eyes slowly.
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"Matthew" she whispers and the delicate tone to her voice takes me by surprise. Just a whisper that seems so loud.
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"Please just touch me and hold me" she whispers as I hear the rain patter down the windows. It is the one thing I enjoy about Hampshire, in the autumn, the orange leaves and the constant stream of rain. The heating hasn't kicked in yet and I can practically see my breath as I exhale. My hands travelling up her skin as she breathes in sharply. A hazy Sunday morning and if you listen really closely, you'll hear the church bells way out in the distance.
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"You've been with me for almost three years" she whispers and I almost shake my head, I've been with her I just haven't been myself with her. Emily has known a part of me, the parts of me that I allowed her to have.
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"What does it honestly take" she whispers and I look up realising that this is going to be a heavy sort of morning. My mind tells me to distract her and so I push her slightly, straddling her in the bed. Taking in her pale green eyes wet with tears as I sigh half aggravated and half appalled by my own behaviour.
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"What do you mean darling?" I say softly watching her smooth cream skin beneath me and her hair mottled from sleep.
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"For you to say it and mean it" she whispers slowly as I wipe her cheeks, slightly pink and her eyes staring into my own. Lowering my lips to her own, I take her mouth in mine and she pulls away.
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"You can't say it" she sobs slightly.
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"Can't say what darling" I ask her slowly, giving her my best smile. Truthfully, I will never love her, and saying it would be sinful. It would be deliberately misleading. In my mind I've saved all of my I love you's for Taylor.
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"Matthew" she says seriously holding my face between her palms over my cheeks.
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"I love you" she whispers willing me to return her sincerity, I can only pray she doesn't sniff me out. That she doesn't have a built in lie detector like most women seem too. Every bit of me advises me to climb off of her, pull clothes on and leave but the idea of returning to London alone isn't appealing. To being on my own with all of the ghosts of my past, where not even my sister wants to talk to me.
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"I love you Emily" I whisper, my green eyes wild as she pauses watching me. Sure I've blown it, sure that she’s sussed me out. My deceit and lies. And as I gaze into green eyes that turn misty just like the hazy Sunday morning outside she shakes her head from side to side. I plead with her to see through my lies and to chuck me out yet the tears escaping her eyes are happy ones.
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"You're not supposed to cry no" I whisper letting her pull me in.
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"It's just you know two years, nine months and six days and I thought well it's not going to happen" she sobs as I shake my head. It astounds me that she knows exactly how long we've been together.
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"Because I don't say it, doesn't mean I don't feel it" I whisper placing her hand on my chest over my heart.
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"Matthew" she gasps and I stifle the involuntary groan of annoyance, eyeing her black camisole and pulling the straps down with my fingertips.
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"Matthew" she repeats as I kiss down her bare chest and her sobs turn into giggles. I smile realising that I've bought myself time. The next obstacle will be in five years, maybe sooner when she will demand why I haven't proposed, why are we not engaged she will go off at me. Honestly as I look down at her, feeling like an imposter in her heart. My eyes gazing at her ribs and stomach, hip bones that are narrow and skin that is translucent. So pale without any blemishes, I imagine her dressed in white and not ecru in a castle. How she will say the most extensive vows and I will just go along with the whole thing; in order to not be alone.
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"Matthew" she moans as I move into her and I smile from ear to ear, my strong hands clutching onto her hips.
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"Emma" I murmur moving into her lifting her leg up, she loses her thoughts and physically I let the experience take over me.
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***
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"Matthew" Richard nods as I eye his golf jumper, imagining us in five years playing a game. His expression tells me that he's taken back by seeing me here, however there's a slight wry smile that stretches across his lips as he eyes my button up gant shirt and Levi's. The kitchen in the Manor House is a grand affair, all oak worktops and fine oak flooring. A glass and crystal chandelier and a table that seats twelve. It's somehow too much when you just want to drink a simple coffee at seven am before work, yet for dinner parties it's just perfect.
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"Richard, nice to see you, whiskey?" I ask him playing the best son in law I possibly can. Emily eyes me from the stove and I smile at her. A lilac dress cut to her knees, a small white apron completing the look as she stirs the pot. Emily assembles a roast for her father every Sunday, usually when he stops by I nip out for work however this time I've stayed. We are roasting a beef joint and serving it with an onion gravy, some roasted vegetables and potatoes done two ways. Mashed and roasted.
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"Whiskey of course, my boy" he announces and I nod agreeably setting down crystal glasses on the drinks cabinet. Opening the glass doors and retrieving a large glass bottle of whiskey. It clinks down on the side after I pour us two glasses.
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"Wine darling?" I call over my shoulder to Emily, turning and appraising her with my best smile as she nods.
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"Or champagne" I ask her as she claps her hands together, the sash window behind her highlighting the English countryside. Ebony oak trees and forest green grass, a large willow in the distance and a small lake at the end of the grounds. One hundred acres, of kept farmland to be precise. This particular property is an unlisted Edwardian estate, reception rooms adorned with lavish furniture and period features. Three bathrooms and five bedroom side, typically we use the master suite but all of them are furnished with ebony bed frames.
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"Champagne please" she smiles and I nod obligingly. Waltzing over to her father and handing him his whiskey before presenting her with a champagne flute.
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"It's lovely to see you Matthew" Richard smiles as I take over the food and begin mashing up the potatoes. Em strokes my back and I gaze out of the window intent on showing Richard that I'm just right for his precious daughter. His hair much like her own, strawberry blonde with hints of platinum.
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"Of course you too Richard how's business" I ask shooting him a wry smile over my shoulder as Em scoffs.
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Richard is a man that enjoys talking business; I've known a few of those in my time. I let him talk just like I used to do with Jay Gilbert Scott. He goes on and on enjoying the sound of his voice as I cut the meat and Emily serves up the food. It's plentiful, far more than three people should need for a meal. However I top up the drinks, and Richard sits at the head of the table.
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Emily discusses work with her father which for the most part I switch off from their conversation. Once the meal has been consumed, she details, over her third glass of champagne, how she will be taking up horse riding again and my mind wanders over to the stables at the rear of the home. Her favourite horse, a white and grey stallion. My mind pictures her horse riding through the lush green fields of the Manor House and I cannot help but to think myself privileged. Perhaps I'll take up horse riding myself, maybe it can be something we will do together.
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After the meal, whilst her father is retrieving his jacket from the cloakroom, I stand behind her in the kitchen. Wrapping my arms around her waist as she inhales sharply looking down at my interlinked hands hovering over her stomach. The eternity ring on my finger becomes something we no longer discuss as I show her my undivided attention. My palms scooping over her tummy as she stares up and into my eyes wondrously. All of the connotations and what this stance symbolises swirling through our heads as she watches me.
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We say goodbye to her father watching him climb into his own Porsche and she retreats up the wooden staircase, the individual beams all whittled to make intricate beams. Looking out into the now dark farmland, as I assemble two warm drinks to take up with me, I double take looking out into the darkness. Two or three times just staring into the empty fields telling myself that nobody is dancing through the fields. That seeing visions of your ex in the woods with her long hair, her luminous skin coloured by the Italian sunshine and blue eyes staring back at you is utterly delusional. Splashing my face with cool water I look out into the darkness and note all of the things I can see. Horse stables, oak trees and not a beautiful woman in sight. I find my way up the winding staircase and venture down the long hall all the way over to the master bedroom that I now share.
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Expecting to find Emily in bed, imagining placing my lips over her skin. Selling her the love of her life, the ideas of me that she longs to consume. The door pushes too and comes stuck over clothes on the floor. My eyes rake over my clothes strewn over the floor. At first I chastise myself for being messy until I see her. Wondering why my blazer has been turned inside out and laid crumpled on the parquet floor. Her blonde hair bunched up in a high bun and a cream cotton nightgown on as she raises her innocent head to me. Green eyes full of longing and accusation.
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"What else are you hiding from me Matthew?!" she demands making a show of the piece of paper she has found in my blazer breast pocket containing a number on it. Bianca's number that she had slipped into my breast pocket before we had left the wedding.
ns18.118.226.34da2
