Good Intentions| Editing

Twenty Nine

"Get the fuck away from me Harry," I sneer at him throwing more clothes into my suitcase. I was going to leave, I couldn't bear to look at him. Not after he told me he loved me, and promised his devotion, just to throw it all away for some other woman.

"Please Arabella let me explain," He begs. His soft hands grab my arm, but I pull away and continue to pack my stuff. "It's not what you think!"

"Please tell me what to think right now because I really don't know." My thoughts were pretty cloudy. Images of when Harry would show up to my door with his clothes disoriented, and the time when I dropped Gemma off and I thought someone was in the house.  The tears try to slip out, but I push them back and turn my sadness into anger. My anger was the only think that would get me out of this wretched house.

"I never slept with her." Harry says coming around the bed, trying to look me in the eyes. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his statement.

"Then what were you doing? Having a fucking tea party?" I push past Harry and into the bathroom to grab my toiletries, but he follows me, blocking the exit so I'd have to listen.

"I only talked to her to give me information about her husband's company. She's the one who gave me the tip about him stealing money from his clients."

Disgust rises in my belly and I can't hold back my scoff. "You're so obsessed with your fucking business, that you don't stop to consider your actions."

"I'm so fucking stupid Arabella. I know that. But she means nothing to me." Harry says waving his hands around trying to prove his point.

I hated to ask this question, but I knew I would regret it if I didn't ask. "When was the last time you saw her?"

Harry gasps at my question, clearly surprised that I would ask that. "When did you last see her?" I repeat with gritted teeth. Harry's shoulders fall.

"When you dropped Gemma off for my birthday."

He was last with her over a month ago. I turn around and lay my hands on the sink overwhelmed with emotion. "Unbelievable," I mutter to myself. My mind wasn't going crazy when I thought Harry was talking to someone.

"Arabella. Please say something."

"You've been with her after I told you about my past. After I told you that I don't trust easily, after I fucking said I love you!  You know those things don't come easily for me, and you threw it all away! How could you do that to me?" A tear finally slips out, and I wipe it away. But Harry sees, and starts to talk louder, wanting me to believe him.

"She made advances on me but I never returned them, I swear." Harry says running his hands through his hair shakenly.

I finally look up from the sink and cross my arms. I just want to leave. Harry's figure blocked the door completely, and there was no way to get around him. "Let me out."

Harry takes a step forward, but I take one step back. Tears start to cascade down his face, running down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. His pink lips were pinker than usual, and his emerald orbs held so much pain. "Arabella, please believe me."  He cries.

"Let. Me. Out."

Harry reluctantly moves out of my way. When I brush past him, his intoxicating cologne almost makes me embrace him, and forget about his horrible actions. But then I see his tears and I'm reminded of everything he's done. Throwing the rest of my things in my bag I start to head downstairs. Harry follows closely behind me, reaching for my suitcase. "Arabella you don't have to leave."

"Yes, I do." I grab the suitcase, but Harry remained gripping on it. What ensued next, was a match of tug of war. Harry pulls so hard, pleading me to let him take it upstairs and unpack my belongings. When my hands start to hurt, I let go and the suitcase is flung back towards Harry. "Give me my damn suitcase Harry." I shout at him.