I wash as quickly as possible. The shower is where I usually do my thinking, and right now, I really don’t want to be thinking too much.
I’m in love. I’m in love with Cam and all I want to do is enjoy it. I don’t want to think and overthink the rights and the wrongs of our relationship. I don’t want to feel guilty for being in love. I want just a little bit of time off from feeling sad. I just don’t want to be sad, for a little while at least.
I find a clean T-shirt and a pair of boxers in Cam’s walk-in wardrobe and put them on. I find a comb and run it through my hair, and then put it up in a bun. It’s a mess and needs washing but I can’t take a chance with Cam’s shampoo. It’ll probably end up a frizzy mess if I use his blokey stuff. I once again clean my teeth with his toothbrush and head downstairs; I come to a halt halfway down when I see two women I don’t know in the kitchen, one is cooking, one is sitting at the breakfast bar, typing on a laptop computer.
I look them over as I try to work out who they could be. The woman cooking has her back to me. She has short blonde hair. I can’t tell any more than that. The woman sitting on the stool though, I have a clear view of. She’s also blonde. She looks a little younger than me. She’s dressed in business wear and it’s not cheap. I know for a fact her shoes are Louboutin and the handbag sitting on the floor next to her is from this year’s Fendi collection. I may have spent a year consumed with grief, but I still knew my fashion.
The woman turns around with what looks like a huge frying pan filled with scrambled eggs and her bright blue eyes immediately connect with mine. She looks across to the other woman who still hasn’t noticed me. I take the last few steps down the stairs as the older woman says, “Good morning. Cameron didn’t tell me he had a guest. I’m sorry if I woke you.” Her tone is friendly and her smile seems genuine. She looks about sixty and very attractive, in a no-nonsense sort of way.
I hate that I’m blushing so much. I feel like I’ve been caught red handed doing something I shouldn’t and I try not to dwell on that thought too much. I smile, probably looking a little sheepish, or just plain guilty as thoughts of what we did last night run through my dirty mind. God, that man can fuck.
Before I get another chance to speak, the younger woman says, “Cam didn’t tell me either. I’m sorry, but who are you exactly?” Her tone is entirely different and she stands up from the stool she was sitting on and folds her arms across her chest as she looks me up and down. She doesn’t like me. I know that instantly, women rarely do. It’s just something I learned to live with as Sean’s wife. Other women rarely gave me a chance. They just instantly disliked me, simply because they saw me as a threat or competition, which of course I wasn’t as they never stood a chance with my husband anyway.
I look her over, the same way she’s looking at me. I may be standing barefoot in a Duffer T-shirt that’s ten sizes too big and a pair of Calvin Klein boxers that I’ve rolled over three times at the top so I can keep them up, and she may be standing in her beautifully tailored Versace dress, but I refuse to be intimidated by her. She actually looks older than me, now that I can see her more clearly, and she has a lot of makeup on. Her striking green eyes are narrowed and on me. I turn and smile back at the older woman.
“I’m Georgia. No, you didn’t wake me up.” She tilts her head as I’m talking.
“Well, good morning, Georgia. I’m Marian and you are absolutely stunning, darling. Come and sit down. Would you like some coffee?”
“Thank you, and yes, I would love a coffee.”
I walk around the breakfast bar, refusing to feel self-conscious and take the stool furthest away from Ms Let’s-put-our-makeup-on-with-a-trowel-today, but I smile at her sweetly as I sit.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name,” I say politely.
“That would be because I didn’t give it.”
I shrug and smile. “Fair enough,” I reply, as Marian puts a coffee down in front of me. I thank her and turn towards the hallway that leads from the front door as I hear Cam’s voice approaching.
“She’s fine. She’s still sleeping. No, she doesn’t know. I’ll tell her when she’s awake.”
He steps into the room and his eyes are instantly on me. He looks me up and down, his tongue flicks out and over his top lip as he looks at my bare legs and I almost moan out loud. His eyes meet mine again, and he knows, he fucking knows what he’s just done to me and he winks; the fucker winks while I struggle not to combust.
“Gotta go,” he says into his phone and ends the call. He’s wearing shorts and a vest and he’s dripping in sweat, which for some reason is making my mouth water. He pauses for a moment, still looking at me.
“You woke up, Kitten.”