harder still to wait as the silence grew. Hardest of all to look at him, meet the look in his eyes head on. But she could do hard. She always had. Just like the crags in the picture. ‘You don’t like it, do you?’ The grit in her voice fought a losing battle with the hard lump in her throat.
‘It’s not that I don’t like it.’
‘Oh, you hate it.’
‘That’s not fair Hayley, I never said that.’ He didn’t look happy and he didn’t seem to know whether he preferred to look at the picture or her. ‘I don’t hate it; I don’t exactly not like it, even.’ He paused. ‘It’s just … Well, it’s great, for just a picture but …’
‘Not for your picture. Just for some other office, some other place?’
‘It’s clever, really.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I can see the “me” bit in it, the boring bits and the danger …’
‘But? You can be honest, you know.’ Even though I’d rather you weren’t.
‘It’s not you.’ He grimaced, and she knew she’d stiffened and drawn away from him just a tiny bit. She couldn’t help it. ‘It’s just a picture; you know, a great picture, but …’
‘But?’ Were they ever going to get anywhere with this, was he going to spit it out and say it sucked?
‘But it doesn’t do anything for me. It’s like all those other pictures that didn’t do anything for me until I met you. All those brilliant pieces of art in all those galleries I’ve been forced to walk through.’ His voice was soft and it hurt, really hurt. Chipped at places it shouldn’t have been able to reach. ‘I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but it’s just, I don’t know, flat?’
Honest, she’d asked for honest and he’d delivered, like he always did. One hundred per cent. ‘Flat.’ Shit. ‘See? I told you this would happen. I knew it.’
‘But the other ones are great, they’re brilliant, so it can’t be –’
‘And that one sucks, right? You hate it, I hate it.’ She took another step away, shoving her hands into her pockets, trying to ignore the sudden need to throw the damned picture on the floor and stamp on it.
‘You can’t just blame being with me.’ He was looking at her as though she’d gone slightly mad. ‘Be reasonable, Hayley.’
‘Reasonable? I am being reasonable. Knowing what you want doesn’t always make you bloody right, you know. I’ve been here before. This is the start, this is the point where it all just starts slipping away, and I can’t do that to myself again, I can’t.’ Heat pricked at the back of her eyes. They’d had the sex, the fun and she’d known all along it was wrong, that she couldn’t handle it.
‘And what about me? You can do it to me? To us?’
‘Us? I told you there couldn’t be an us, not at the moment, not until I’ve done this.’
‘So you expect me to just accept all the blame? It’s my fault, is it?’
‘I don’t expect anything.’ She took another step back, another step further away from the man who wasn’t to blame for anything except wanting her as much as she wanted him. ‘I only expect stuff from me. I want to do your paintings. I just need space.’ The inside of her cheek stung as she bit hard.
‘You’ve had space. Those other paintings are fine, but this one just hasn’t worked. Just do it again.’
‘Tom.’ Why did he have to make this difficult? Why was he so fucking stubborn?
‘Since when did space ever work in a relationship?’ He’d raised his voice, but then she saw it in his eyes. That point when he knew he’d said the wrong thing even for himself. Since when was this meant to be a relationship? Neither of them had wanted that. ‘Fine.’
Shit. She wanted to grab him, kiss him, wanted him to rewind, and instead he was looking like everything she said was right. ‘I just need to …’
And she spun round and headed down the stairs.
OK, he was out of his depth; he didn’t do begging, and he didn’t do getting involved. And he’d just nearly done both. Not
‘It’s not that I don’t like it.’
‘Oh, you hate it.’
‘That’s not fair Hayley, I never said that.’ He didn’t look happy and he didn’t seem to know whether he preferred to look at the picture or her. ‘I don’t hate it; I don’t exactly not like it, even.’ He paused. ‘It’s just … Well, it’s great, for just a picture but …’
‘Not for your picture. Just for some other office, some other place?’
‘It’s clever, really.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I can see the “me” bit in it, the boring bits and the danger …’
‘But? You can be honest, you know.’ Even though I’d rather you weren’t.
‘It’s not you.’ He grimaced, and she knew she’d stiffened and drawn away from him just a tiny bit. She couldn’t help it. ‘It’s just a picture; you know, a great picture, but …’
‘But?’ Were they ever going to get anywhere with this, was he going to spit it out and say it sucked?
‘But it doesn’t do anything for me. It’s like all those other pictures that didn’t do anything for me until I met you. All those brilliant pieces of art in all those galleries I’ve been forced to walk through.’ His voice was soft and it hurt, really hurt. Chipped at places it shouldn’t have been able to reach. ‘I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but it’s just, I don’t know, flat?’
Honest, she’d asked for honest and he’d delivered, like he always did. One hundred per cent. ‘Flat.’ Shit. ‘See? I told you this would happen. I knew it.’
‘But the other ones are great, they’re brilliant, so it can’t be –’
‘And that one sucks, right? You hate it, I hate it.’ She took another step away, shoving her hands into her pockets, trying to ignore the sudden need to throw the damned picture on the floor and stamp on it.
‘You can’t just blame being with me.’ He was looking at her as though she’d gone slightly mad. ‘Be reasonable, Hayley.’
‘Reasonable? I am being reasonable. Knowing what you want doesn’t always make you bloody right, you know. I’ve been here before. This is the start, this is the point where it all just starts slipping away, and I can’t do that to myself again, I can’t.’ Heat pricked at the back of her eyes. They’d had the sex, the fun and she’d known all along it was wrong, that she couldn’t handle it.
‘And what about me? You can do it to me? To us?’
‘Us? I told you there couldn’t be an us, not at the moment, not until I’ve done this.’
‘So you expect me to just accept all the blame? It’s my fault, is it?’
‘I don’t expect anything.’ She took another step back, another step further away from the man who wasn’t to blame for anything except wanting her as much as she wanted him. ‘I only expect stuff from me. I want to do your paintings. I just need space.’ The inside of her cheek stung as she bit hard.
‘You’ve had space. Those other paintings are fine, but this one just hasn’t worked. Just do it again.’
‘Tom.’ Why did he have to make this difficult? Why was he so fucking stubborn?
‘Since when did space ever work in a relationship?’ He’d raised his voice, but then she saw it in his eyes. That point when he knew he’d said the wrong thing even for himself. Since when was this meant to be a relationship? Neither of them had wanted that. ‘Fine.’
Shit. She wanted to grab him, kiss him, wanted him to rewind, and instead he was looking like everything she said was right. ‘I just need to …’
And she spun round and headed down the stairs.
OK, he was out of his depth; he didn’t do begging, and he didn’t do getting involved. And he’d just nearly done both. Not
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