This Man Confessed by Jodi Ellen Malpas Page A

kitchen and marching into the lounge. I catch a glimpse of her pale face, looking no brighter than this morning. I know that expression. That’s her stubborn, I’m-not-being-honest face. I could throttle the stupid cow.
    “Obviously something has!” Sam almost laughs, but it’s a nervous laugh. It’s a laugh that clearly indicates worry. Sam really does like Kate. A lot.
    “Just go,” she spits out shortly.
    “No! Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on!”
    I can’t see them, so I creep out quietly, scolding myself for being so nosey, but I need to hear this because I’m just as intrigued as Sam. I suspect I know, which is just spiking my already fraying patience.
    “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
    He laughs properly this time. “Yes, I think you do!”
    I catch a glimpse of Sam trying to hold Kate in place, but the stubborn cow just shrugs him off. “No, I don’t. We were fucking, nothing more. It was fun while it lasted.” Her cold words slice through me, so I can only imagine what they’ve done to Sam.
    He doesn’t say anything, but I see the slight shake of his head. “Fun?” he repeats. “Just fun?”
    “Yes. Not anymore, though. I’ve had all the fun I’m going to have with you.”
    My mouth gapes: just when I thought she couldn’t be any colder. She’s on fire. Sam’s body shifts, and I know he’s leaving, so I creep slowly and quietly back to my room and push the door shut.
    I hear the front door slam, and then the unmistakable sound of sobbing. Kate’s crying. She never cries. I’m infuriated with her, but feeling incredibly sorry for my stupid best friend. I can’t help but think that this never would have happened if Dan wasn’t here.
    I could stay in my room and let her have her tears, but instead of letting Kate grieve in peace, I step out and walk across the landing to the lounge. I’m not letting her brush this off later. If I witness her turmoil, then she has to admit that she is, in fact, in turmoil. She’s not evading me this time.
    I lean up against the door frame and watch for an eternity as her shoulders jerk and she cries relentlessly. My instincts tell me to sit beside her and cuddle her, but I don’t, and after a good ten minutes, she harshly brushes her cheeks and stands, turning and immediately clocking me in the doorway. As I knew she would, she plasters on an unaffected face and tries to smile. It’s insulting to my intelligence and our friendship.
    “Hey,” she chirps on a suppressed sniffle.
    “All right?” I ask, not removing myself from the doorway.
    “Sure I am. What are you doing here?” She straightens her T-shirt out, diverting her glazed eyes all over her body instead of facing me.
    “My car’s outside. You didn’t see it?”
    She still doesn’t look at me. “No. What are you doing here?”
    I ignore her repeated question. I’m not going to allow her to change the subject. And what would I tell her, anyway? I’ve been married for less than a day and I’ve turned up at her flat with a packed bag. “You probably didn’t take much notice. You know, as you were fighting with Sam.”
    Her eyes whip to mine. “Oh,” she says quietly, then insults me further by smiling brightly. “Tea?”
    “No,” I answer coolly. “An explanation would be good, though.” I know my eyebrows have just risen expectantly, and I must sound like a nagging parent, but I’m not caving in.
    She laughs a little. “An explanation to what?”
    “Well, we could start with your little performance last night with my brother, and then you could try explaining why you’ve just finished with Sam.”
    “There was nothing to finish.”
    “What about my brother?”
    “It’s none of your business.” She goes to walk past me, but I shift, blocking her escape. “Move, Ava.”
    “No. You’ll sit and talk to me. We’re supposed to be friends.” I grab her arm and drag her over to the couch, pushing her reluctant body down onto the soft cushion.