Thank you so much for the lovely reviews!
Chapter Three
Carla had finally decided upon a convincing task to undertake - tidying the factory floor. She faffed with straightening swivel chairs and reject bins, fiddled with the machines to make sure they all had enough thread. She found small tasks to complete and hoped she could drag it out long enough for Peter to fall asleep and not bring up any more of their past.
She could feel his eyes on her as he leant on the doorframe to the office, hands delved coolly into his pockets. She resisted the urge to turn and look at him but it was proving difficult as she felt the walls of the factory closing in on her. He definitely set this whole thing up, he must've, it was all far too contrived for him not to have. For starters, he was wearing a slim white shirt with his navy chinos, he knew she loved him in that white shirt. It slimmed him down and showed off his olive complexion, those tattoos he loved so much well and truly hidden. He, on the other hand, hated that white shirt and she hadn't seen him in it in years, until tonight of course.
Peter observed her from his spot in the doorway as she moved around the factory floor, doing more tidying now than she did the entire time they had co-owned the factory together. He thought of sharing that information with her, but it occurred to him that she remembered that time in their lives slightly differently to him. Tinged for her with the stink of his infidelity. He hated to see her feeling so caged in, knowing this was not the first time an ex-husband had locked her in this place. But when Simon suggested this lock in he could think of no other option to get her to listen to him. He needed her to stay in one place with him long enough to admit that she loved him too, that she never stopped feeling like he did.
He willed her to look at him, even just a glance. He remembered how she used to look at him, full of admiration, she used to look at him as her hero and he had long since given up the idea that she would look at him like that again. Now he would settle for a glance, just a glance in his direction.
With the strong silent routine failing him though he tried to think of something, anything to say that would entice some kind of reaction from her.
"Remember spending that Christmas Day in here?" He finally piped up, nodding towards the spot on the floor where they had had sex.
"I'm not listening to this," she straightened the chair at Sean's machine, still refusing to look over at him.
"We never lost that did we?"
"I'm still not listening," she replied again through gritted teeth, this time marching into the kitchen to find something to tidy in there.
"You were always mind blowing in that department," he followed her, finally feeling like he was on the cusp of a reaction.
"I'm really not listening," she banged the cupboards open and closed, searching for something to clean, anything to distract her. She kicked herself for hiring such efficient cleaners.
"Don't tell me you don't remember how amazing we were together?"
"Right," she finally turned to face him, anger in her eyes. "I'm going into my office now, and if you could give me five flaming minutes alone without you banging on about the past that would be absolutely fantastic!"
She stormed off into the office, slamming the door behind her.
He considered following her but he didn't want to push her too far, she could be vicious when she felt backed into a corner. For the first time that night a niggling feeling crept into his mind that he was wrong, that he had seen what he wanted to see these last few months. Maybe she really didn't still love him, maybe it was a fantasy he had cooked up in his head. He pushed the thought aside though, he would let her stew in the office for a while, when she was calmer he would make one final pitch. If the answer was still no, he would message Simon and end this stupid charade. He flipped the kettle on instead, setting about making her another coffee, Carla could resist most things but she would relent on the coffee.