All or Nothing

Chapter 17

Megan was sitting at the kitchen table eating yogurt and granola when John got up. Having lain awake most of the night, positioning himself in the bed as far from Megan as physically possible, he looked terrible; hooded eyes, hair that was all over the place and his lips fixed tightly in a grimace. When Megan said morning, the only response she received was a curt nod.

"What's wrong?" She had had the match on the TV in the background last night, she'd seen the own goal and presumed he was stewing over that. City had won regardless so there was really no need for him to be so dramatic. 

He stopped smashing his way around the kitchen; he had been opening drawers and cupboards searching for something as though he didn't live here and looked at her. Megan almost flinched, he was looking at her like he hated her, his eyes burnt through her, "I'm fine."

John found the bowl he had apparently spent several seconds looking for and placed it down on the worktop so heavily that Megan was surprised it didn't break. 

"Where's the porridge?" He was staring into an open cupboard containing several different cereal boxes.

"Oh, there isn't any," Megan shook her head. "Hattie had the last of it on Sunday."

"Are you joking!?" His eyes were wide, full of completely unnecessary rage and his mouth gaped open. 

Megan narrowed her eyes, "Drop the attitude, John."

"I've not got an attitude," he spat back. 

Why was she digging at him?! He had barely slept and didn't need this. 

"I just want some breakfast, Megan. If the porridge was finished, why didn't you get some more?!"

Megan gave a snort of laughter, this was ridiculous. There was no need for such drama over breakfast. "Sorry John, I didn't realise porridge was so important to you," her voice was dripping in sarcasm. If he was looking for a fight to get rid of whatever rage, he had built up inside she wasn't going to give him it. John's mood swings were getting tiresome now.

He huffed and looked away; he knew he was being ridiculous. He looked at Megan with searing resentment and a complete lack of self-awareness, it was her fault that Aimee had chucked him out last night. If wasn't for her, then everything would be fine. Before he completely lost his temper, he slammed the cupboard door and stormed out the room without a word.

*

Aimee turned her alarm off and went back to sleep. She would be doing no work today. Who cared if her business went bust!? She couldn't possibly feel worse than she already did. She drifted in and out of sleep. It was habit now that John would be her first thought when she woke up, usually she'd be wishing he was with her. That it would be him she would be spooning and not Rosie, who as she grew seemed to be developing sharper limbs to injure Aimee with. Today, every time she woke, she had the same thought as she lay in blissful ignorance for a few seconds, imagining John's arms around her and his body pressing against hers. Then she would remember yesterday and feel crushed all over again. She was never going to get to wake up with him.

Just after seven, Rosie joined Aimee in bed, lying down next to her with her head on the pillow that John's head had been on just days before. "Is John coming today?"

Aimee sighed and looked into Rosie's hopeful eyes, they were both lying on their side, face to face with their noses almost touching. There was never going to be a good time to do this. "John isn't going to be coming over anymore."

"Why not?" Aimee's heart sank as all the hope faded from Rosie's eyes. Yesterday had been all about protecting Rosie, but still she was going to get hurt, Aimee cursed herself for letting things drag on as long as they had, allowing Rosie to get more and more attached.