A huge flame of mortification whacked Callan in the face when Orla ignored him, but he quickly veiled the spurting hurt before it became visible in his countenance.
He contemplated walking away and staying back to give the cat to her but he couldn't go back. He was already in front of her and he got the cat for her, it didn't matter if she wanted to see him or not. He had to give her what he got for her.
Orla was oblivious to the cat that was behind Callan. Though her eyes were on him, her vision was fuzzy from unshed tears and she could barely see that he came with a cat.
With her fingers, she brushed the flowers off her hair and dress and rose to her feet. She looked at Callan again and this time, she glimpsed the cat.
A small smile popped up on Callan's face when he noticed Orla's eyes were on the cat behind him, he walked closer and towered above her.
"Orla?" He dubbed her name tranquilly.
"What do you want from me?" She responded harshly, obviously not interested in the cat.
She was a cat freak and would have jumped on Callan when she saw that cat but she had exhausted all her energy brooding over Betty, and she was still mad at Callan.
"Huh?" Callan's eyebrows crumpled in bewilderment. "I have been looking for you. Have you been here all day?" He asked again in that calm voice that Orla already loathed because it did a lot of unexplainable things to her.
She clasped her hands together, snickering at him. Callan didn't care about her, what was with the question?
"Why do you care where I have been all day?" She retorted, resentment fused in her tone.
She suddenly hated having him around her. She wanted to run away from him, and all that had to do with him, but no matter how hard it was for her to admit it, Callan's house was the only place she had in the world, he was the only one she could still call her own in the whole world. He was still her husband.
"Orla…" He moved close but hesitated. After meticulous thought, he moved again and took her in, in a swift glance before closing the distance between them. "I got you a new cat, maybe you can replace Betty. You've been sulking and I think getting you another cat will make you happy."
Orla laughed softly. She shook her head and stared unbelievably at her husband.
"Make me happy? Why should you care about making me happy when all you've ever done is be the reason for my sadness?" She shifted away from him and said. "Is this Callan? Is this you? What's your plan this time? What do you want from me?"
"Orla, I got you a cat to replace your dead cat," Callan said, looking down at the cat. "She looks so much like Betty, you can make do with her for now." He stretched out the cat to her, but she didn't take it from him. "Here, take it." He nudged her with his head.
Orla tried to process if Callan was the one standing in front of her with a cat in his hands. To her, the cat didn't look like Betty, she was in no way close to Betty. She was darker, smaller and didn't have the cool aura Betty possessed. The one that attracted her to Betty the very first time her mother brought her into the house years ago.
"I don't need your cat, Callan." She blurted out. "You know nothing about me and Betty, you don't even know the kind of relationship that we had. I don't know why you are pretending to care about me when you don't."
"Orla,"
"I hate it when you call my name!"
Callan was disturbed. He stayed still and they stared into each other's eyes, reading their emotions with their hearts.
"Slow girl," Callan voiced out when Orla wasn't making things easy for him. He knew she was mad, but he didn't expect that reaction from her. "I won't get you this cat if I didn't know the relationship you had with Betty."
"I never asked for a replacement, did I?" Orla barked, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Did you think I would just fly into your arms and take the cat from you? Worship you because you got me a replacement barely four days after my best friend died?"
Callan didn't say a word, he lowered the cat to the floor and moved closer to her. He gently yanked her arms, tilting her chin to his side. "I don't want you to run into my arms and worship me." He whispered into her ear. "I just want you to take this from me," he threw his hand down to the cat. "Why must you make everything difficult? I didn't kill your cat, did I?"
Orla jerked away from him, fixing her clothes, she breathed hard and glared at Callan. "Get the fuck away from me, Callan! I can't change the fact that I am married to you but I can stay away from you as much as I want. That's what you've always wanted and now, you will have it to the fullest."
"Orla!"
"My name stinks in your mouth!" She raised her hand to halt him. "Don't, Callan," wagging her fingers in front of him, she shook her head and whispered. "Don't call my name, Callan. Not anymore. Stay away from me, I don't need you and your cat too."
Those words pierced the deepest part of Callan, he couldn't take more. He closed the distance between them and grabbed her arm again, his hot breath flaring her skin.
Ladies didn't reject him, he rejected them and it hurt like hell that Orla was sending him away. He always did that but no matter how hard he wanted to go on her, he just couldn't.
Her large puppyish eyes bored into his, causing a warmness in his chest. It was bizarre, but that wasn't even the first time he felt that way.
"I got you a cat," he said, still holding her hands.
"Now I get that you are dumb, Callan." She backed away from him.
"I will allow you to say these words because you are my wife." He said through gritted teeth, his face void of emotions.
"Oh now, I am your wife?" She scoffed, clapping her hands in mockery. "Now, you can call me your wife? What happened to Slow girl? You are disgusting? You are not worthy to be called my wife and the disgusting words you said to me?"
Callan stood there, dumbfounded. He still didn't understand where she was driving at.
"I don't need your cat and anything from you!" She yelled, walking away from him.
"Orla? You don't need a shelter either, do you? This is my house and you are still staying here."
"You can send me back to the streets, Callan. You can send me out of your house. I do not give a fuck!" Fresh tears rushed down her cheeks as she thought about Callan's words about owning the house. She was certain that Callan wouldn't send her out of the house, but those words hurt her so much.
"You have to calm down, Orla. I know that you are angry about all that happened but don't you see it? I am trying so hard to make things right, I got you a cat and I will do anything you want me to do to put you in a good mood. Why must you make things difficult, Orla?" He heaved a drained sigh, pinning her to the wall and caging her with both hands.
"Really? Am I making things difficult?" She struggled to talk. Callan's grip on her was stimulating and almost rendered her senses numb.
"Yes, you are, Orla," Callan responded.
"You are a selfish bastard, Callan. Things can not always go the way you want them to go. You are just a freaking billionaire, you don't control the universe!" She yelled at him, taking his hands off her. "You hurt people without thinking about their feelings, then you come back, still not sorry about your stupid actions."
"I didn't kill Betty, did I?"
"It's not only about Betty, you fool!" She hit his chest with light punches that barely had any effect on him. "This is not all about Betty, it's more than Betty, it's how you've been to me, Callan! How you've been a terrible husband and still don't know it yet. Do you think getting me a new cat will heal the pain? You think so, don't you?"
He let go of her and backed her. "What else will make you feel good?"
"Nothing from you will make me feel good, Callan. Staying away from you will make me happy." He turned back and narrowed his eyes on her. They stared intently into each other's eyes and tears clouded her vision. "Stay away from me, Callan. I don't need your cat! Your cat can never fill the void in my heart! Please leave me alone." She turned her back and ran as fast as her legs could carry her.
"Orla!" Callan called, remorse consuming deep in his insides. He wanted to run after her, but he went down to pick up the cat. "What else do you want me to do, Slow girl." He said quietly.
He had never felt guilty about something in his life like he was now. He had hurt Orla too badly and he wanted to right his wrongs, but he didn't even know where to start.
Running away wasn't an option anymore. He couldn't keep running away from her when he was so drawn to her.
He had never felt that way about a woman, and it was harder that he didn't know what to do, he didn't know where to start.