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266 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2016
That bloody phone! He and his mobile have more of a relationship than we do, not that it would take much.
I just want to get away for a few minutes to ring Fiona, to hear a friendly voice before spending the next two days with my wife, who barely even notices I’m in the room.
Fiona and I haven’t kissed, we barely even touch. But the more time we spend together, the more I want to.
Well, I’m not hanging around. I’ve wasted enough time in the past two years worrying about her, and right now, I’m done.
I’m going to have that drink for Fiona.
‘Fiona?’ I say quickly, trying to hold the feelings at bay. ‘Want to come to Paris?’
Last night, when we went for a drink after work (or, more accurately, several drinks), I leaned in to kiss her goodbye on the cheek. She turned her head, and my lips brushed hers – just briefly, but enough to feel the air spark between us. Having sex with Fiona is just what I need right now,
Fiona seems to like my makeover. When I first turned up at work with my new jeans and crisp shirt, she told me she’d been dying to get me into some decent threads for years – after I caught her ogling my arse.
Shit! She won’t be here until tomorrow morning?
‘I’m not going home,’ Fiona says firmly. ‘I’m coming to Paris if it kills me! Anyway, if I do arrive early tomorrow morning, we’ll have all day together before we need to go home. Let’s make the best of it.’
I’ve seen her before . . . ah. It’s Fiona, from Edward’s work. I’ve met her a couple of times at company functions, and she’s always been friendly with Edward – maybe a touch too friendly, although Edward and I laughed about it at the time. I attempt to unravel the chain of events, trying to understand why she’s here. If Edward arranged to meet her, he knew she was arriving. But why – why would she come to Paris?
My cheeks flush as I realise that nightgown, the champagne, weren’t for me. They were for her. My fingers slide down to my pocket, where the ring is, and a bitter laugh emerges. I guess now I know why his ring was off.
I picture him leaning in to kiss Fiona, and resignation sweeps over me. I’ve lost him, lost us.
