‘You’ve already got a whole world of hurt going on with that family, so I strongly recommend you don’t make it any harder on yourself. I think you should have told Adam that you’d met, but if you were going to do that, you would have done it last night. And you didn’t?’
I shook my head. I’d thought about it, all night. I was like a cat on a hot tin roof, running it over in my mind again and again, reaching a different outcome every time. I thought about telling him that James had needed some recruitment advice, but that would lead on to another lie, and I could see it all quickly unravelling.
Hot tears sprang to my eyes. ‘What a bloody mess.’
Seb shuffled up the sofa and put an arm round me. ‘Hey, come on, don’t get upset. You should think yourself lucky, having two men fighting over you. I can’t even get one to have a fight with himself!’
I laughed tightly.
‘So, you think I’m doing the right thing? I’m playing it right?’
‘As I said, there should be no guilt associated with fantasizing, just be sure not to act on it.’
I sniffed. ‘I never would, not in a million years.’
So why, then, did I agree to meet James for a drink after work when he called again a week later?
I don’t know, is all I can offer. It’s not a good enough answer, but it’s the only one I’ve got.
I’d not stopped thinking about how he’d made me feel, and I naively believed that if I saw him again, I’d be able to rationalize it in my head and put it to bed. How stupid I am. I should know that life doesn’t work like that, so why am I prepared to put myself in an untenable situation, as if to prove to myself that I’m in control, that I’ve got this, when, deep within, I know that, all around me, the sky is falling down.
I could blame Adam. I could say that I no longer felt attractive, or wanted; that my husband-to-be made me feel unloved. I could say that he didn’t understand me or support me. And perhaps that was all true, but none of those justified me being unfaithful.
‘I’m not going to sleep with him,’ I assured Seb, when I called to tell him I needed to see James one last time, ‘for closure.’
‘Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?’ He laughed wryly. ‘Because I have to say, I’m not on the same page as you on this one. Go have your ego stroked if that’s what you need, but you’re playing a dangerous game here and you need to wake up to the consequences. If Adam finds out about this, even if nothing happens between you, you’re going to be in a whole heap of trouble.’
‘I know what I’m doing.’ I sighed heavily.
‘Do what you want, but don’t come running to me when the shit hits the fan.’
I felt a bolt across my chest at that. Seb was open-minded about anything and everything, so to be told in no uncertain terms where I stood, compounded the gravity of the situation.
‘Call me when you’ve got your sensible head back on,’ he said, before putting the phone down.
There was a tiny part of me that wanted James to cancel. It would have made things easier, drawn a line under whatever this was. But he didn’t, so, with butterflies dancing in my stomach, I walked into the American Bar at the Savoy, and his eyes met mine as I walked towards him.
‘Good to see you,’ he said, holding my shoulders and kissing both cheeks. ‘You look incredible.’ The word resounded in my head. Incredible. That isn’t how your future brother-in-law should describe you. Lovely, yes. Well, yes. Even great, yes. But incredible? Absolutely not. My heart raced at the thought that I’d not imagined the look he’d given me in the cafe, nor the sentiment behind his words.
‘What can I get you?’ he said, whilst raising a hand to the barman.
‘A glass of prosecco, please.’
‘Two glasses of champagne, please,’ he said to the white-jacketed man behind the bar.
‘What are we celebrating?’ I asked.
‘You are looking at the official gardener for Lansdowne Place at Knole Park.’
‘Oh, fantastic,’ I cried, instinctively pulling him towards me for a congratulatory hug. ‘You got the job.’
There was the briefest moment when our faces collided, unsure of whether this was just a hug, a kiss, or both. We awkwardly extricated ourselves, but the touchpaper had been lit.
‘So, does Adam know you’re here?’ James asked, his eyes not meeting mine.
‘No,’ I said honestly. ‘I haven’t told him.’
He tilted his head to one side, his hair flopping with it. ‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you,’ he said softly.
If he could just stop staring at me like that. Stop brushing my leg every time he moved.
‘You haven’t. It’s worked out perfectly, actually. I was just around the corner at a meeting and with the Tube strike, it makes sense to wait a while before attempting to get home.’ That was all true. It was a normal day, just like any other. The part he didn’t need to know was how I’d spent it trying to convince myself that my French Connection miniskirt and silk blouse were my normal work attire, even though I’d worn nothing but trousers for over a month.
‘Are you bloody mad?’ Adam had asked, as he watched me dress that morning, tying his tie into a thick knot. ‘It’s going to be freezing today.’
I mumbled acknowledgement.
‘And there’s a Tube strike, so none of us know where we might end up. You’d be better off in boots today rather than those heels.’
‘I’m all right,’ I’d said, ‘stop fussing.’ But the shards of guilt cut through my chest.
The barman placed a glass of champagne in front of me, its tall stem resting on the double-layered coaster beneath it.
‘Cheers,’ chimed James, raising his glass. ‘It’s really good to see you.’
We locked eyes as we took our first sips. I looked away first.
‘So, how have you been?’ he asked, setting his glass back down on the bar.
‘Mmm, fine,’ I said casually. ‘Really good.’
‘Strange . . . Your eyes are telling a different story.’
I blinked and looked away.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked.
‘It’s complicated,’ I said. ‘We’ll work it out.’
‘Are you happy?’
What a loaded question. Was I? I honestly didn’t know.
‘I’m not unhappy,’ was all I could offer.
‘Don’t you think you deserve more than that? Don’t you think that someone else might be out there who could truly make you happy?’
The air in my body felt like it had been sucked out of me. Tiny pinpricks of heat emitted from every pore, and my mouth felt like it was full of polystyrene, rendering me speechless.
He looked at me, his eyes desperately searching mine for a response.
‘James, I . . .’ was all I could manage.
He reached for my hand and held it. A frisson of electricity travelled along my arm, literally standing the hairs on end.
Images flashed behind my eyes like an old-fashioned cinematic film, shuttering madly. I could picture us, making our way to a room on one of the floors above. I imagined us kissing in the lift, unable to contain ourselves for a second longer than it took for the doors to close. The urgency as we’d make our way along the carpeted corridor, my shoes being kicked off as we’d hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.
We’d ignore the chilled bottle of champagne standing on the dressing table, and I’d picture the anonymous faces scurrying along the bustling street below, none the wiser to the deceit and betrayal that was unfolding just a few metres away.
I’d wrap my legs around him as he pushes me up against the wall, our kisses intensifying as the heat in our bodies rises. We’d be clawing at each other, pulling our clothes off as he carries me over to the bed. We’d sink into the luxurious white sheets and his eyes would never leave mine as—
Enough!
I stopped my mind from racing on, knowing that it would only end with us lying there, lamenting what we’d done, and wishing we could undo it.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have . . .’ he said, releasing my hand.
I willed him to touch me again, so I could feel that bolt rush through me one more time.
‘I love Adam,’ I said. ‘We’re getting married. We’ve got our problems, but we’ll work them out.’
‘You deserve better,’ he said. ‘Adam—’