“I’m still free tomorrow. Maybe we could go surfing again?”
“I want to make love to you, Caro,” he muttered, gazing at my fingers as he squeezed them gently.
I took a deep breath as the familiar flickering tongues of love and lust swept through me.
“We could find a motel,” I said softly.
He looked up, his eyes wide.
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes,” I said. “I want to be with you, too.”
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, a glorious smile spreading across his face.
He pulled me into a hug and leaned his head into my neck. I reached up and stroked his hair, which was nearly dry already.
I dropped him off at the end of the long driveway leading to the country club and watched as he waved once, then jogged along the avenue and out of sight.
I drove home with the sun beating down and all my car windows open. A brief glance in the mirror told me I looked like a cavewoman, with wild, salty hair hanging in clumps. I don’t know how Sebastian managed not to laugh at me.
I showered quickly and sat in my robe to tap out the first few hundred words of my article, keeping one eye open for David’s return.
As soon as I heard his car in the driveway, I snapped the laptop shut and headed to the bedroom to at least look like I was spending time getting ready. David imagined that all women took hours doing their hair and make-up before going out: it was one of his favorite stereotypes. It came in useful when I wanted an extra half-hour of peace and quiet.
I slipped on the new dress, remembering Sebastian’s scorching look as he’d zipped it up. It was a soft chiffon hung over a fitted bustier top and clinging skirt; so plain, it was almost severe, but also elegant and sophisticated.
I dug out my simple, gold necklace that my father had given me and matched it with a pair of plain, gold hoop earrings.
I was just sweeping my hair back to pin it up when David walked into the bedroom.
He stopped and did a double take.
“Is that it?”
“My new dress? Yes.”
“We’re going out to dinner, Caroline, not attending a funeral.”
Once his words would have hurt me; that evening I just stared at him impassively in the mirror.
“It’s a classic little black dress, David.”
“It’s dull.”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
He scowled.
“For fuck’s sake, Caroline. Do I have to supervise everything you do? You can’t even buy a fucking dress that’s appropriate for dinner.”
I didn’t reply. There was no point. Unfortunately, it meant the evening would now start on an awkward note. I hoped he’d be able to hide his annoyance from the Vorstadts: I didn’t want Donna throwing any more pitying glances my way.
Johan’s car arrived outside with typical military precision. David was wearing a dark blue suit with matching tie. If it hadn’t been for his permanently sour expression, he would have been good-looking.
Johan stepped out of the car to open the door and blinked when he saw me.
“Good evening, Caroline, David.”
“Hello, Johan. Hi Donna.”
“Caroline, darling. Don’t you look gorgeous,” gushed Donna. “Johan, doesn’t she look amazing?!”
“I’ll say!” agreed Johan enthusiastically.
I saw David frown. It was going to be a long evening.
David sat up front with Johan while Donna and I chatted in the back. I freely grilled her about her experiences of moving around the country, explaining it was for a new article.
“I can introduce you to some of the other wives,” she said. “Well, you know Shirley Peters: she’s moved around even more than I have.”
“I’ve spoken to her on the phone, but never actually met her,” I admitted.
“I’ll set something up,” she said. “Shirley is a member of the country club, too. Why don’t we all meet over there tomorrow afternoon? I’ll drive.”
Oh no! Not tomorrow – I’d promised Sebastian.
“Could we make it Friday? I’ve got one or two things on tomorrow.”