‘I don’t know, is that why you behaved the way you did? Because you were angry?’ I asked
‘Maybe... I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’
The waiter walked over to take our food order.
‘We need more time,’ Davian said.
The waiter nodded and went to serve another table.
‘What I’m trying to say is-‘
‘That it was a mistake?’ I say.
His eyes widened. ‘It was.’
‘I understand.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘Of course, I do; I was upset. You wanted to offer me comfort and you did. It was...’
It was what? Wrong? Lovely?
‘I won’t tell anyone, I promise,’ I said.
That seemed to put him at ease. We ordered the food and talked about work mostly. There was no touching or kissing or anything of that sort. It was nice to sit there and talk to him. After dinner, he hailed a taxi for me. I turned to him; he took my hand and kissed me on the lips. Blinking, I got in the taxi. I rubbed my hands together and placed them inside my jacket pocket. I frowned as something crisp rubbed against my skin. A paper. It was a Post-it to meet him on Saturday with an address scribbled down.
***
Wait, she had been at Davian’s apartment? Why doesn’t this ring true to me? Davian wasn’t going to invite Lottie to the flat he shared with Melissa, even if she was miles away. I knew Davian to well enough to know that he wouldn’t be prepared to open that side of himself to Lottie. For her to see how he lived, look at the things he owned, the books he read, the records he listened to. The possessions Melissa owned, the life they shared together; it would be like standing nude in a public place for him. Exposing himself to her like that was an access he wasn’t willing to give her. Or am I wrong? Why would he tell her that what they did was wrong and then ask her to meet him again? It doesn’t make any sense. No one was forcing her to go. She could have refused, left him there waiting. Now I know what followed next. She went to Westminster with sweat coursing down her back, a heart racing with adrenaline, thinking about the high and the danger of it all, that she could be caught. It was exhilarating, exciting, also scary. It was new; she had never done anything like this before with the man she for so long desired.
Chapter Twenty-Four
There are always three versions to a story: Lottie’s, Davian’s, and the truth. Lottie had recorded clips documenting her affair with Davian. Whilst Davian had told me he wasn’t having an affair with her. He said she was making up stuff about him. If it got so bad, why didn’t he tell Giselle rather than dealing with it himself? That would give him a motive. She was telling lies about him, therefore, he wanted to get rid of her. I don’t know what’s what anymore nor who to believe. I only want to know the truth. The laptop is on the kitchen table, and I sit across from it as if it’s a girlfriend who had been waiting for me.
***
Lottie’s Recordings. Clip sixteen
I didn’t see Davian for the rest of the week. Lilia asked me if I’d like to watch a movie on Saturday. I nearly said yes until I remembered the Post-it tucked away in my drawer with his address on it. Why had he invited me to go to his place? Weren’t we supposed to meet at a hotel? Isn’t that how this works?
On Saturday, nerves prickled all over me. I got a text from Ella asking me if I’d like to meet for drinks in the evening. I declined; I didn’t want to be around anyone, especially my friends. As the time drew closer, the anticipation grew. I planned what to wear, what to say to him. I had a long bath. I never questioned what I was doing. My mind was blank. I got dressed with a certain ease. I put on perfume and lipstick. I could have taken the tube, but I took a taxi instead. While I gave the address to the cabbie, the thought came crawling into me: why had he told me what happened that night couldn’t be repeated and then left me a Post-it? As the car moved forward and took me closer to him, the panic began to surge its way through me. I was terrified. I paid the driver and looked up at the tall building.
***
What?
***
The apartment was in Chelsea. How could he afford a place in one of the most expensive areas in the city? A wealthy family who provided for him, maybe? I mean, he acted like a spoilt little boy.
***
I nearly spit my tea on the screen. Chelsea? No, Davian didn’t come from a wealthy family. His father is a plasterer. His mother is a housewife. There was no way his father could afford an apartment over there.
***
The doorman opened the door, greeting me with a ‘good afternoon’ as I walked through the white marble lobby. There was a round oak table in the middle with a vase of white roses.
***
What is she talking about? What kind of fabricated bullshit is this? No, it’s all bollocks. Davian never lived in Chelsea, and he couldn’t afford it. He rented a tiny apartment in Westminster and the last time I checked, there certainly wasn’t a doorman nor a marble lobby or a vase with white roses. Lottie is lying. There is no apartment in Chelsea. Unless it belonged to someone he knew and he’d asked her to meet him there. My mind goes blank. I can’t think of anyone who might have an apartment over there.
***
I wobbled to the corridor, fixed my hair, decided whether to smile or not and knocked on the door. Discomfort screamed through the walls. The apartment was about 3,300 square feet surrounded with windows everywhere. It was bright, elegant, and it suited him. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. There was a picture of a woman’s red lips. Black marble floors along with dark furniture. I took off my jacket and dropped it on the black leather sofa. There was a smell of rosewood combined with nicotine.
***
He was fooling her; that wasn’t his apartment. He lied to her, giving her this illusion. Unless Lottie was making this up.
***
There was morbid silence; my body had a memory now. Please, I wanted to beg him, just get on with it.
‘Why am I here?’ I said.
He smiled. ‘I perfectly understand, Lottie, if you don’t want...’ he trailed off.
‘But I thought you said...’
‘I know what I said.’
‘Then why?’
‘Why what?’
‘You asked me to meet you here.’
This apartment had no trace of a woman living in it; it didn’t have that touch. Nothing suggested Melissa lived here as it seemed none of his belongings were in the apartment either.
He fixed his gaze on me. I latched to him like a bear, aggressively pushed my lips to his and wrapped my legs around him. He lost his balance and landed against the wall. I sensed his shock, but he didn’t stop me. We moved to each corner of the living room with my legs still wrapped around him. He was delicious. Perfect. I drowned in his embrace. I shut my eyes, collecting each caress, and each touch went to my head.
The world outside the living room faded; all that mattered was the two of us touching, exploring each other’s bodies. He laid me on the sofa and crept on top of me. I rolled on top of him and we fell on the floor.
***
I remove the headphones and rub my eyes; is this what the rest of these videos are? Sexual escapades with my best friend? I can see her obsession with him had grown. By this time, I had gone on a holiday on my own to broaden my horizons. I’ve read somewhere if you travel alone, you learn how to enjoy your own company. I went to France, Greece, Rome, Spain and Portugal. I never called Lottie. I didn’t want to speak to her. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t hiding; no, I was. Meanwhile, she was busy shagging Davian. So much for mending a broken heart. Abdel was long forgotten. How did she get back with him? I wasn’t there in this part of her life. The buzzer pierced through the silence and made me jump, nearly 11:00 pm. Who could it be at this hour? Davian?