Paul’s Trophy Wife Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Paul sank back onto the couch as the guilt and pain of what he’d put her through, the pain she must be feeling now, increased by her own infidelity, were all his fault. He’d blackmailed her, abused her, forced her to bend to his will. And even if she’d enjoyed it, there was no denying the fact that she was not a willing participant, and Paul felt like the biggest piece of shit in the entire world.

He wouldn’t be going to her, no matter how much he wanted. He couldn’t put her through any more.

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Paul woke up on the couch as his parents walked in, smiling at him.

“Catch a nap?” His mom asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted, getting up and walking up the stairs.

“I’ll have dinner ready in an hour, ok honey?” She called to him.

“Yeah, an hour,” he echoed back, closing the door to his room.

“Why do you think she asked about Paul?” His dad asked as soon as they were alone.

“I don’t know, simple curiosity I guess? People say the strangest things when they’re suffering from grief like that,” she reasoned, half sympathetically.

“Yeah, strange woman, that one,” Paul’s father shrugged, taking off his coat. “Did you see that weird necklace? That thick green choker thing?”

“Mitch!” Paul’s mom groaned, smacking his chest. “Come on! Don’t talk like that!”

“I’m just saying!” Mitch laughed a little, backing off. “Strange choice of fashion for a funeral.”

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Paul was walking from his bedroom to the bathroom the next day when he heard her voice.

“Hi Mrs. Scott, I’m sorry to bother you,” Valerie’s said meekly, and Paul caught himself before he walked in front of the stairs and into view, pushing his back against the wall.

“It’s quite alright, dear, are you hungry? Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh, no, no,” Valerie replied, smiling. “It’s just, well, I was wondering if Paul was home.”

Paul clutched at his chest, barely able to breath, his heart beating a mile a minute, all the blood draining from his face, turning a ghostly shade of white.

“Oh, Paul? I’m not sure, he might have fun off with his friends, would you like me to go check?” Paul’s mom asked sweetly, turning to call him, but Valerie reached out, grabbing her hand.

“Oh, no, no,” she frowned, then smiled, trying to hide her sadness. “I- uh, I just have so many of Roger’s things lying about, and it’s too much for me, I was wondering, if you think it’s alright, would you ask him if he wouldn’t mind helping me move some of it?”

Paul’s mother smiled sympathetically.

“Well, yes, of course, dear,” she said, and Valerie nodded, blushing.

“Ok, uh, thanks,” she whispered, turning around and darting off.

Paul caught his breath as he listened to his mother closing the door, then he stepped out.

“Was someone here?” He asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh, just Valerie Mansfield, she’d like your help moving some of her husband’s things around,” his mom smiled weakly. “You don’t have to, of course, but it would be awful sweet of you if you did.”

Paul nodded, walking off to the bathroom, groaning and rubbing his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest.

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It took some time before Paul worked up the courage to knock on her door, standing outside in the light of the setting sun, unsure of what awaited him, but when he finally knocked, the door parted at his touch, and he stepped inside.

It was a mess.

There were empty wine bottles everywhere, dirty dishes and broken glass on the floor, and the air was thick with the smell of stale alcohol.

“Valerie?” Paul called, walking through the house, and he found her lying on the couch, a bottle in her hand, a giant stack of tissues before her, sitting up drunkenly.

“Oh, Paul, Paul,” she slurred, smiling weakly and trying to stand up, but losing her balance and falling back down on the couch. She was wearing a black dress, the shoulder straps hanging loosely around her arms, her makeup smeared and caked, her hair disheveled, a complete mess.

“Hey,” Paul smiled, sitting down next to her, and she smiled up at him weakly, then collapsed into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist, rubbing her face against his shirt.

“Oh Paul! Paul!” She sobbed, shivering, and he held her, rubbing her back, feeling a confusing mixture of guilt and shame with happiness as he felt her in his arms again.

“I’m so sorry, Valerie,” he told her, and she nodded.