Part 2

"What's with you tonight?" Connie exploded as soon as Michael had slammed the door. "Zubin bought me those files for tomorrow and you were so rude!" She glared at him, before starting to walk away, kicking the sitting room door as she did. "You're so pig-headed and arrogant!"

"At least I care enough about you to be pissed off Connie!" Michael shouted back at her, storming upstairs and walking into their bedroom, kicking the door as he went in. He heard Connie storm back out into the hall and walk to the bottom of the stairs.

"That's why you told me to piss of earlier is it?" She yelled up to him, angrily gripping the banister.

Michael stood up, and stormed back down the stairs until he was standing face to face with Connie. " You're always somewhere else anyway!" He yelled furiously. "You're always either at that fucking hospital or fucking someone from that hospital!"

"Like you haven't been fucking your PA!" She screamed back, moving away from him slightly. "And so what if I'm always at the hospital or shagging someone else…I'd rather be with them than here with you."

Her words cut him deeply…even Connie flinched after she said that. There was a silence between them for a moment, as what Connie had just said was absorbed. Michael soon spoke again, quieter this time, and tears were filling his eyes. " I haven't been fucking that stupid bimbo Connie! I love you. You've completely screwed me up." He turned his back on her, and began to walk away. Connie watched him go, knowing he was crying, feeling her own eyes well up with tears. Suddenly he turned around and glared at her, unwilling to allow Connie the parting insult. "And the fact that you aren't willing to stay faithful makes how you feel about me perfectly clear."

The tears were streaming down Connie's face as she came back at him, walking closer, her voice shaking. "You have been with that bimbo Michael, I'm not stupid. You think it makes a girl feel good to be given the cold shoulder Twenty-four-seven?" She stared at him for a moment, watching the tears run down his cheeks and dropping onto his shoes. "And you wonder why I cheated…"

Michael glowered at her, angry that she had the audacity to turn this around onto him. " Why the hell do you hate me so much woman?" He screamed, his face only a few inches from hers. "You drive me to this with your constant bitchyness!"

"Hate you?" Connie let out a mock laugh. "Oh please…"

Michael glared at her icily, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "You never really loved me, did you?"

Connie's looked into his eyes, her voice cold. "No."

Another silence, longer this time. Both stood stock still, staring at each other. He did not move as he whispered his reply, cold and angry, almost silent. "Get out."

Her eyes kept his gaze, flashing her eyes at him defiantly. "No." Brushing past him she walked back into the lounge and picked up her wine. Michael followed her, and removed the wine from her hand, slamming it down onto the table so hard that the glass snapped in two. Grabbing her left wrist with one hand, he wrenched her wedding band off of her finger with the other."

"I said get out." His voice was cold, angry, stern, but inside he was ripped to shreds.

"Get your hands off of me!" Connie shrieked, wrenching her wrist out of Michael's grasp.

"Get out of my house then, you cold hearted bitch!" He screamed, throwing her wedding band at her in a rage.

"Good heavens Michael…calm yourself." Connie said, smirking slightly at how pissed off she'd made him through one comment.

"Marry me for my money did you?" Michael spat. "Or my status? Or both?"

Connie walked slowly towards Michael, smiling a little. "No actually." She whispered. "I married you for…" Pausing, she softly brushed her lips across his, before turning and leaving the room.

Michael rolled his eyes. "For what Connie?" He said, exasperated, not in the mood for games. "Oh let me guess…my huge cock."

"Who said anything about huge?" Connie replied, smirking to herself. "It's not about size though Michael, luckily for you, it's about how you use it."

Following Connie out into the hall, he laughed bitterly. "I suppose that's all I am to you. A big walking talking cock with an even bigger wallet."

Connie raised an eyebrow. "Don't confuse yourself Michael. You aren't as big as you think you are."

"And you aren't as good as you think you are." He retorted, icily. "I'm going to bed."

"Now you really are kidding herself." Connie said jokily, hoping to break the tension. Smiling slightly, she bit her bottom lip, realising that she had perhaps gone a little too far this time.

"Do what you want Connie. I don't give a shit anymore."

"Oh but I think you do." Connie grinned sexily at her husband, but was met with an icy glare. Michael finished ascending the stairs and walked off into the bedroom.

"Goodnight dear." He called down to her. "Hope you have nightmares."

Following him up, Connie walked into the bedroom to see Michael undressing ready for bed. Crossing the room, she opened a chest of drawers and picked out a nightdress, watching him slip between the sheets as she got changed. For a moment she considered getting into bed beside him, but instead she wandered out of the room for a moment, heading downstairs to lock the front door.

Michael sat in bed, staring into space. He could not comprehend the events that had just taken place. She didn't love him? She'd never loved him. He didn't understand how that could be true.

Connie walked back into the bedroom, slipping into bed beside Michael. She began to flick through her notes, aware that he was watching her, deliberately avoiding his gaze. Suddenly he laid down, rolling over so his back was facing her. Slowly placing the papers down on the bedside table, she turned to look at him. "Why are you in such a foul mood?"

"Because you just told me you don't love me." Said Michael, not moving, a hint of sadness in his voice.

" You were in a mood before that." Said Connie, playing with the bed sheet between her fingers. "And I'm not going to feed your ego by telling you that I love you. After all, I'm just your nagging wife."

"Well it would be no use telling me you love me if you didn't mean it Connie." Said Michael, sighing. "And you're right. I was in a mood. I had a bad day. Hoped you'd be here when I got home."

"That's not my fault. You know what it's like at the hospital." Replied Connie, defensively. " And besides, it's not like you were here when the hospital blew up…"

"I was at my mother's!" Michael replied, infuriated. " I'm not superman Connie!" Sitting up, Michael looked at her, his face softening. "I'm sorry."

"And I'm not superwoman." Replied Connie, a hint of amusement in her voice as she stopped herself from smiling.

"What do you want from me Connie?" Michael asked, genuinely confused about his wife's intentions.

"I could think of a few things…" She replied, grinning slightly.

"Well it would help if you'd tell me. I'm not a mind reader… and you're so distant all the time…" He trailed off, loosing confidence as Connie's face hardened once more.

"And you're so moody." Connie retorted. "I can't help the way I am. You knew what I was like."

"We both have our faults Connie, but at least I'm trying. Fruitlessly."

"I'm sorry…" Connie threw the covers back off of herself and got out of bed, not even glancing back at Michael. She had to remove herself from the room before she got angry, or worse, upset. She couldn't allow herself to cry in front of him, not now.

"Where are you going now?" He asked.

" For a drink." She snapped, before walking out of the room.