Matthew's POV
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Down on my knees I have begged, gathered up my strewn clothes and cleaned up after her absolute fit. My Levi's turned inside out, as if she thinks I'm going to be hiding stuff inside of them. My button down shirts scrawled up and left over the large rug. Upon seeing her cross legged on the floor, I collected my clothes calmly and rather confidently hung them back into the oak wardrobe as she sat weeping. The tears morphed into anger when she got up hitting me with hangers, and anything else she could get her hands on.
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Screaming at me that I had tried it on with her friend. It is highly unlikely, looking at Bianca that I would go after her even with a barge pole. However Emily sat stringing together weird conclusions about why it had taken me so long to get down to the car when we had left the wedding. Yet still the number being in my jacket is evidence that our conversation had turned into a proposition only Emily doesn't know that Bianca had come after me. However being that Emily has known her friend for over five years she had surmised that her friend is innocent and I am to blame.
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After the shouting, I had turned around from the vintage oak dresser and held her like one would a raving toddler until her tears subsided. The hot cocoa left on the dressing table way out of reach as she lays on my chest exhausted having given into sleep. My arms briefly cup her stomach as she curls up on me. My fingertips tracing through her pale hair as I sigh wishing I could be the person she needs me to be.
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My resistance wears thin, and as I hear her shallow breaths deepen, the darkness surrounds me and I await a tumultuous morning of questioning and inquisition. I'm sure it's not the end of the whole what else are you withholding from me topic. And so as she gently moves over to her own pillow, cuddling into her cushion I pull out my phone. And in my mind even though I know it's only a girls number that honestly I was not even willing to use. In Emily's mind it signifies secrets and if I can lie to her about a number I must therefore be lying about much more.
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As if it's mirroring my mood the lightening cracks outside and the leaves rustle against the window pane. A storm seems likely and as I gaze down at my illuminated phone screen I decide to do something unheard of. In order to be myself with Emily, in order to be myself at all I need to face up to all of the things in my life that I have been avoiding. All of those unread messages, all of them years old, all of them from a past life that I've dismissed for too long.
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Matthew, I know it was a lot. I know that seeing each other again would bring back so many emotions and memories. I know that I'm to blame. I just want to know that you're okay, that you arrived to wherever it is you call home safely. Thank you for making mine and Henry's day. Taylor.
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The first message brings me to tears, sobs that I hold deep in my chest for the fear of waking up Emily. The following messages go on in the same vein; Taylor wishing to know if I'm okay, if I'm safe. After around twenty messages, I grasp my cigarettes and a lighter. Pull on a navy sweater and head for the grounds.
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Quietly putting one foot in front of the other I pace past the hall and into the now dark kitchen. The scent of the roast beef still lingering in the air. Sliding into my warm-lined boots and fumbling around with the key to the large oak door before I break loose. The wet ground squelching under foot as I walk through the mud, Emily always complains when I don't use the paths as I usually end up walking mud back through the white kitchen floor. She's not wrong but I like being free and I always clean up after myself.
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The rain soaks me through quickly, like I knew it would. My hair slick with water as I pace through the woods like a wild man through a storm, it's been my experience that British people usually steer clear of stormy weather and actively try to stay out of it. However once I'm far away from the stately home I look back out at the house turning from my position in the trees and open up the messages.
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Taylor's tone in the messages changes after a while, she no longer asks whether I am safe which would make sense as I'm sure she would have heard from my sister Kimberley. Her messages change into a documentation of what had been happening, and although they are less frequent it appears that as time went on she had just felt compelled to share something that had happened. Be it Henry playing on his piano or Emilia walking for the first time. She lost hope in any reply on my behalf, after around a year and a half her messages ceased.
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As I read them I can hear her voice narrating in my mind, how she would explain things in her soft voice and the flush she would have in her cheeks. Closing the messages I check social media, fuelled by the need to finally see her again. That's if she hasn't blocked me on all of the platforms. Three years worth of notifications is a lot to go through when you're standing in the pelting rain, soaked to the bone.
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The first a collection of photographs, taken in the capital of Italy. Rome in all of its glory, the sun bouncing off of her skin. A cherry red sundress adorning her small frame as Ross holds her in this picture set against the colosseum. Sunglasses propped over her head as he looks down at her nothing but love in his eyes.
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My eyes rake over Henry and how tall he has become, reclined back in a double buggy with his mop of blonde hair. The sheer amount of time I've missed confounds me when I take in a picture of Ross holding onto Emilia who clutches him asleep on his chest. A canvas behind him in a restaurant as he smiles genuinely holding onto her little girl. Emilia would always have been Taylor through and through, her long hair the exact same shade as her mom's. A far cry from the newborn I had seen the last time I had been in Italy.
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Collapsing into the dense mud, the tears collect in my eyes and I sob feeling every emotion I have suppressed for three years. After nothing, after feeling detached from my life for a long time. Finally I feel it all again, just from seeing her face for a few seconds over a screen. Her smile and the way she hooks one leg over the other in all pictures. The innocent smile and her long trialing hair.
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Eventually as I rest back on an oak tree, the rain clears having washed all of the mud away from me. I succumb to closing my eyes, dreaming of her and her blue eyes. The sound of her voice and how it is always the antidote to my sadness.
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***
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Waking up outside of your home is not at all odd I tell myself, however I'm sure that Emily will disagree. My mind scrambles over excuses, how to conceal my unusual behaviour and come out of this whole scenario smelling of roses. Or in my case the moss of the forest and the wildflowers surrounding the house.
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Fortunately for me the grounds are secure and so my phone sits in my lap, before I place it in my jeans pocket and stand gingerly. Stretching out and inhaling the cold air. Ruffling my brunette hair as my mind wanders over the picture of Ross holding Emilia, I know for sure that my absence in Taylor's life has promoted him in hers. Jealousy is a useless emotion and so I dismiss it although I cannot help but to hold onto the notions of what could have been should I have stuck around.
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Pacing up through the long grass towards the stately home, I notice the lights on upstairs all be it daytime England is pretty gloomy and Em tends to leave lights on even when she's not in the room.
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"What are you doing have you lost your mind!?" Em gasps as I open up the back door and kick off my dirt ridden boots on the mat. Her eyes rake over the mud scornfully and she scoops her hair back.
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"There was something out there last night" I begin setting up my lie as she looks at me in utter disbelief.
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"I went down this morning...early hours" I tell her reminding myself that the best lies are not too specific.
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"What the shit are you on" she demands incredulously turning and facing the stove, I notice that she's put on two eggs and know that I'm not out of the house, bags packed awaiting me in the hall. My eyes rake over the iron clock, six am. It's a risk but I approach her from behind, pulling off my navy sweater with only my bare chest underneath. My arms circling her waist and my lips by her ear.
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"I'm different, I'm sorry I feel possessive" I whisper lying through my teeth, my palms stroking her waist.
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"We had argued, I couldn't sleep. I thought I heard something." I go on as she rests her head on my shoulder moving the eggs around the pan. My lips kissing her neck.
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"Anytime we have sex, I always think you know. Something could happen and this like possessiveness takes over. Sorry I become a paranoid neanderthal hunting around the woods in the back of our home" I lie and she gasps, it's a lot for her to take on. Mentioning babies, the idea of forever. Selling her the dream.
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"We have sex without protection once Matthew and you start running around all night" she says after a long pause. I chuckle and she cannot resist me, turning in my arms and laughing at my bare chest.
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"You" she laughs and I grin.
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"You will catch a cold" she surmises seriously eyeing my chest as I laugh.
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"I would do anything including catching a cold to make sure you're safe" I giggle and she smiles appeased for now.
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Taking a seat at the twelve seater table and opening up the times I read the newspaper as the scent of eggs and bacon fills the kitchen.
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"You know the grounds are secure" Emily reminds me as she plates up the food, last nights argument way behind us since my late night activities and my declaration of being her protector all through the night.
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"I know darling" I say in my best British accent, she places food in front of me and strokes my hair.
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"Thank you" I whisper watching her waltz back over to the coffee machine, my eyes look over the grey cloudy morning through the large arched windows and I think about Taylor and the babies. The heat and the sun of Italy. Ross' smile as he holds her in the absence of her husband, claiming her like she's his. The rain begins again and I shake my head looking back at the newspaper before Emily and I have breakfast.
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