‘God. So this guy who’s all smiley and doctor-ish and compassionate and life-savey is also, like, a hot, wanton sex god who smoulders after dark and goes around stripping you and being a cunning linguist?’ She looks up. ‘Is he? A cunning linguist?’
‘He’s very cunning.’ I smile like a cat and stretch at the vivid mental image of Noah between my legs yesterday. Thethings he did to me with that tongue. The dark, silky hair falling over his eyes. And the relentless string of presumably filthy compliments he paid me. In French. ‘You should see what he can do with a stethoscope.’
‘Noooo!’ Ally beats her fists on the marble island top. ‘It’s too much! I can’t bear it! I’m not going to be able to look at him next time I go in. Have you had sex at the hospice?’
‘Ugh. No. That’s revolting.’
‘I agree. Good. Right then. So what’s the plan? Have you guys, like, discussed it? I don’t know… have you put any boundaries in place? Because, knowing you, you probably need them. Right?’
My sister knows me too well, but the problem is that I don’t know myself right now. The woman I am currently, who’s blithely gone down the same route as my husband, is not the person I’ve been for the past thirty-nine years. And the Noah-junkie I am today, who spends far too much time staring at my calendar and trying to work out what I can blow off to see him, is not the woman who spontaneously agreed to test the waters with this guy a week ago in France.
And worse, I’m pretty sure this thing we’ve created together is not the casual fling he proposed by that pool. He said he wanted to make my life better. But he’s consuming me.
I nod slowly. ‘Boundaries would be good. Boundaries would be great, actually. But I’m not sure we have any. We’re kind of making it up as we go along. We haven’t really talked about it openly—about plans, I mean, or how we’re feeling. The main problem is that the more we see each other, the more desperate we both seem to be for the next time. I didn’t really think it through in France, but we saw each other every day last week, except over the weekend.’
‘And bysaw each other, you mean you had sex?’
‘Yeah. He has a place in Westbourne Grove.’
‘And the sex is amazing, I take it, from what you’ve said?’
‘It’s—incredible. I mean, he’s so attentive and generous, but he’s also very sexy and bossy, you know? He makes me feel amazing, but he doesn’t fawn. He’s just… perfect.’
Ally lets out a slow exhale. ‘Wow. He’s playing it well. Clever guy. This sounds pretty full-on, Duck Face. What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’ I pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘Keep… going? I suppose? See what happens? It’ll either run its course, or…’
‘Or bye-bye, Jackson.’
‘No! God, no. We’re looking at signing a five-year contract with Burberry as the faces of its new, timeless fragrance. That’s a big, fat incentive to behave myself.’
Ally makes a face. ‘How romantic. You know it sounds more like a business partnership than a marriage, right?’
‘Tell me about it.’ My voice sounds flat, even to me.
‘Okay, okay. Sorry. Not a helpful comment.’ Ally takes my hand. ‘What about Jackson? How are you juggling your relationships with him and Noah? Because that would be enough to put me off ever cheating on Ted.’
‘You’ll never cheat on Ted. Come on. But no, it’s tough. It’s icky. Jackson’s definitely sleeping with Leila. He admitted it. And he left right after we got back from France, so I’ve managed to avoid having sex with him so far, but he’s back next week and I’m not sure what I’m going to do. How on earth do guys do it—sleep with two people at once?’
‘Well, I suspect your lovely husband just adores sex, and he’ll happily take it from you, or Leila, or whoever else is offering. I think he can probably compartmentalise quite easily. But it’s less easy for us. A lot less easy. Are you saying you don’t want to sleep with Jackson anymore?’
I consider her question. ‘Honestly, no. I don’t. I’d feel like I was betraying Noah. Is that weird?’
Ally snorts. ‘You realise how ridiculous this is? You’remarried to literally one of the sexiest men on the planet—by popular opinion—and you also have this gorgeous, adoring doctor at your beck and call.’ She leans forward. ‘Some people would call that a high-quality problem.’
‘I know, I know.’ I groan. ‘But I’m not like Jackson. More is not more when it comes to sex for me. I don’t want to be having it with more than one person. I know our marriage is far from perfect. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with two relationships with two different people. It’s exhausting!
‘I don’t have time for an affair—my calendar already gives me panic attacks—but I also don’t have the emotional headspace for it. I mean, where am I supposed to put Noah? And what I feel for him is so… all-consuming. I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop thinking about being with him. Not just the sex part, buthim. And he’s crowding out everything and everyone else. I think I’m falling for him.’
CHAPTER 27
Noah
Honor’s fallen asleep next to me in a pool of sunlight, her eyelashes casting long shadows over her cheekbones, and it feels like a miracle.
This past month has taken its toll on her; I know that. Our relationship is costing her far more than it’s costing me, and though she acts as though she’s handling it, she must be finding it a strain to constantly shuffle her calendar, and eke out stolen hours with me, and lie to those closest to her.
Serena and Rollo are back at school now, and Honor’s made it clear to me that this can’t eat into her after-school time with her kids. She blew off a work dinner last week to spend a quiet evening at my flat where I cooked for her and made love to her and bathed her before letting her go. But usually, her evenings are for her kids, and I wouldn’t expect anything less.
