Wicked Part 1

Turbulences in relationship

Though Hazel had been teasing her, what she’d said had been true. Steve was the only man Grace had ever slept with and she only the second person he had. They had discovered, learnt and explored everything that they now knew about sex on each other—and only on each other. Grace was by no means a prude however, and nor was Steve. He like to watch porn, she liked to read it. They both knew of kinkier practices, but there seemed little desire on both sides to try it out. He was happy. She was happy, and they were both fulfilled. Calling out to Steve as she entered their apartment, Grace soon realised that the place was empty. Frowning, she checked the time on her phone. Steve would have finished work an hour ago and it wasn’t like him to be late back. Her skin prickled with nervousness and she tapped him a quick text to check he was okay. They had plans to go out to dinner that evening so she had no meal to busy herself with preparing. Instead, she just stared at her mobile, turning it over and over in her palm while she impatiently waited for his reply. Pushing increasingly panicky thoughts out of her head, Grace tried to distract herself by getting ready for dinner. She flicked some mascara over her thick eyelashes and ran hair straighteners through her naturally curly blonde locks. Tonight was a straight hair night, she decided. Halfway through the mission of taming her curls, a ping from her phone made her drop the irons and swipe it up in the same, almost frenzied movement. Relief flooded her—the message was from Steve. Exhaling, she closed her eyes—glad she hadn’t overacted and started calling around hospitals. Then she stopped and re-read his words, frowning. He’d said he was stuck at work and wouldn’t be able to get out for another hour or so. She didn’t understand—Steve never, never got tied up at work. He was the manager of a fitness centre not a surgeon, and, while he liked his job, he was always adamant that it was not his priority in life. He went in at bang on eight in the morning and always left right on five thirty in the afternoon. He’d done the same for the last three years, ever since he’d got his promotion. Why the sudden change? The confusion lasted for a couple of minutes longer, right up to the point where she started to feel a cold drip of anger. They were going to miss their dinner reservations. Steve’s message was vague and mysterious and why, of all the evenings, did he have such a pressing need to stay late at work tonight. He knew they had a restaurant booked and this sort of thing was just really unlike him. Grace glared at her reflection in the mirror on the dresser in their bedroom, half her hair curly and the other half poker straight. She looked ridiculous. As she stared at herself, her bubbling anger turned into something far more sinister, something that she had never felt in all her years with Steve—it was doubt. The entire time they had been together, all those emotions that Grace had read about in trashy magazines—jealousy, distrust, insecurity—had been absent. Grace knew Steve almost better than she knew herself. She trusted him implicitly, she loved him unconditionally and she was certain, had always been certain and secure, that her feelings towards him were reciprocated equally. But his behaviour tonight, his message, his absence…it was so unlike the Steve she knew and she couldn’t control the way it made her feel. Thumb poised above the screen, Grace was about to send him back a message expressing exactly her annoyance with him. And then stopped herself. If there really was an emergency at the fitness centre—and why on earth would he lie about it, after all—then a petty message from an over-reacting girlfriend wasn’t going to make his day any easier. Grace put the phone down and reached again for the straightening irons. She needed to get a grip. There was absolutely no reason for her to be so worried, just because he hadn’t done this before did not signify anything awful or suspect. Making the choice to finish her half and half hair, she was going to fix her and Steve some food ready for when he got home and put her earlier crazy thoughts behind her. Steve was back within the hour and Grace smiled at how his green eyes and thick, black hair still had the ability to make her heart flutter, despite having looked upon his face for years and years. “Baby. I’m so sorry, I know we missed dinner. I’ll make it up to you.”  He dashed over to the dining table where Grace was perched and kissed her on the top of the forehead. Her smile hardened, although she tried not to show it. A kiss on the forehead? She watched him open the oven and inhale the scent of the lasagne she had thrown together in haste. “Mmm. Smells good honey, I’m starving,” he said. “It’s ready. Sit down,” she instructed as she got up. She needed something to do while she sorted herself out. Something just didn’t seem right to her, every instinct she had was screaming it. A kiss on the forehead? After him being so late back, she’d have thought he would have swept her up in his arms with apology and showered her with affection. At least given her a proper kiss. She’d been expecting him to come back ranting and raving about this ‘problem’ he’d had at work. She’d have thought he’d be fuming, frustrated that his job had eaten into his personal time and into her time. But there was nothing. He offered no explanation. There was no irritation. Nothing. It didn’t sit right, but until Grace could figure out exactly what ‘it’ was, she kept her smile plastered on and sat down to eat with the love of her life. Steve finally mentioned his delay, mumbling something about the CEO visiting unexpectedly, and Grace had to take the choice to accept it at face value. She ignored the fact that Steve tensed up as he was saying it and that he seemed to relax as soon as the subject had been changed—by him. She tried to tell herself that her hackles were already up for some reason and she was looking too deeply into everything. Perhaps she was a little under the weather?