Nothing Compares To You

Consequences

Tom lay and stared at the ceiling like so many nights before then. What had he done? Well, he needed to rephrase that slightly. He knew EXACTLY what he'd done, he'd fallen in love. With his ex-wife. All over again.

No, actually, that wasn't it either.

He realised in the cold, grey light of early the next morning that he'd never stopped loving her. Exactly as he'd said. But what to do? What to say? To Grace. To Debbie. He'd rehearsed it all, but thinking it to himself and actually finding a way to say it? Two very different animals entirely.

He looked across at Grace as she lay and slept. They'd never officially 'moved in' together. It had just kind of happened that she spent more and more time at his. At first, it had been exciting and clandestine, avoiding the paparazzi. Now, months on, it had - and he was sure this applied to them both - become tiresome. He knew in his heart that if he truly had loved Grace, it would be a small price to pay for happiness. But he wasn't, was he. Happy.

As he watched her sleep, he knew. He had to end it. And now. He had to try and win Debbie back. The proposal had floored him, it was just so unexpected. His silence had been shock, not approval. He needed to tell them both that. He was exhausted, mentally and physically.

There was nothing he could do at this time in the morning. As he turned over and tried to go back to sleep, he felt her arms snaking around him, her breath on his back as she snuggled up. Her lips on his skin. He felt so guilty. He'd never been one to cheat.

Till now. And the irony was, he was cheating on his girlfriend with his wife.

Morning was agony. He'd pretended to sleep on as Grace had stirred, showered, and headed downstairs. Only when he heard her start to make coffee and toast did he stir.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he felt sick. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to rub some life into his features. As he checked his phone for messages, of which there were none, the nausea overtook him. Dashing to the en-suite, he lost what little was left in his stomach.

As he sat on the tiles, wiping his face, he knew. Guilt, not illness, was making him sick. He had to put a stop to the charade, and now.

He clambered to his feet, rinsing his mouth before cleaning his teeth. As he looked at himself in the mirror, an old memory replayed. Of him and Debbie, standing doing exactly that, fighting like little kids over the toothpaste, wrestling for room at the mirror. Laughing like maniacs, their mouths ringed by toothpaste foam.

His heart lurched, and not for the first time, he wanted to cry. Cleaning himself up, he walked back through and dressed quickly.

She was sitting in the living room, reading emails on her phone, the tray of toast and coffee on the table in front of her.

"Morning darling!" She chirped as he walked in. Not for the first time, he wondered if he would ever see her without makeup when her eyes were open. She was pretty. There was no denying it, but he just wished for once she'd be a natural beauty. Like Debbie, he found himself adding.

She looked up, expecting him to kiss her as usual. When he came and sat in the chair opposite, she frowned and pouted.

"What's up, Mr Grumpy? Did someone steal your smiles in the night?" Her voice was small and girly. And VERY annoying.

He groaned inwardly and bit back the temptation to tell her to grow up. Instead, he said gently, "Grace, we need to talk ."

"But darling, we talk all the time!" She shrugged, oblivious to the tension in his voice.

He rubbed the back of his neck, clenching the other hand into a fist. "No, Grace. I mean a serious talk." He prayed she wouldn't make this any harder than it was already.

"Oh." The little girl disappeared, and the sombre woman appeared in her place. "Go on." She put down her phone and her coffee mug, sitting with her hands clasped tightly together. Grace was a lot of things. A fool wasn't one of them.

"I - I think." He sighed, "Last night. What you said. I might have made you think... but we're not..." Tom stammered and sweated. What the hell? Why had speech deserted him now!? He took a breath. "Grace, I'm in love with someone else." He blurted it out and immediately felt terrible. "I'm so sorry. God that was crass and insensitive. I never meant to hurt you. I promise. I'm..."

Grace let out a breath. "At last. The truth." She smiled quietly, tears in her eyes but a strange sense of relief in her heart. "It's Debbie, isn't it?" She stood and walked over, sitting on the arm of his chair. Looking down at him, he was so pale and frightened.

He nodded, "Yes. I'm so..." he held out a hand and laid it on her arm.

Grace smiled. "Sorry? Me too. Sorry I made you go through that. If I'd been braver, I would have let you go a long time ago. When she first came back." She pulled him over to sit with her on the sofa. Carefully, she threaded their fingers together.

"I love you, Tom. I really do, and God knows I wanted you to love me back. But I also know now it just wasn't meant to be. As soon as I saw the way you looked at her that first night, I knew we were history. I'm just sorry I was so selfish. You have to give a girl credit for trying - up to the last minute I still had hope. I know now, I should have let you go so much sooner."

This was a Grace he had never seen before, never heard. This was like some other version, that maybe, in another life, he could have had a future with.

"Grace, I don't know what to say... I don't deserve you being so understanding. " he took her hand in his, raising it to his lips. She had the capacity to amaze him at this eleventh hour.

"You don't say anything other than Grace, you are a sweet girl, we had some fun and for a while I really did care about you." She kissed his cheek and stood up. "Please leave me my dignity Tom. Please let me pack and leave alone. I will be gone shortly. Please don't see me off. I'll leave my key on the table and drop the latch. "

She walked to the door. "Don't for one minute think this isn't the hardest thing I have ever done. It's not because I don't love you that I'm going. It's because I do. And I want you to be happy. As happy as you've made me."

She stepped out into the hallway, then paused. "Tom?" She looked back at him, with a far away look in her eyes.

"Yes, Grace?"

"You WERE happy for a while, weren't you?"

"I was love. I was." He nodded, a wry smile on his face. He couldn't deny her that crumb of comfort.

"Good." She smiled and closed the door behind her. He could hear her footsteps as she climbed the stairs, crossed into the bedroom, and sat on the bed. Faintly, he could hear the sound of crying.

It tore at his heart. He'd genuinely never meant to hurt her. He stood to go and comfort her, and then her words replayed in his mind. "Leave me my dignity..."

He sat and waited, unable to do anything but listen. Presently, she walked back downstairs, the heavier tread indicating she was carrying her holdall. There was a small noise as she dropped her keys on the hall table, then a pause.

He waited for a word, a noise, anything. Nothing. The front door opened and closed softly, and she was gone. Just like that.

He stood and walked into the hall. Her keys sat on the table, the only evidence now she'd ever existed. Carefully, he picked them up and clutched them tightly.

Closing his eyes, he apologised to her again. When he opened them again, he looked at his hand. A rivulet of blood ran down his palm. He'd clutched them so tightly that he cut himself on their jagged metal.

As he turned to put the keys away and clean his hand, he caught sight of a scarf he'd not noticed there before, tucked away at the back of the hall cupboard.

A green silk one, embellished with tiny gold and black beads. It had been a Christmas present to Debbie the first year they were in the house. He'd had no idea it was still there.

He vowed there and then, she would get it back.