Perhaps it was the ghost of Xavier’s great-aunt who had come to check up on the state of the marriage and was most displeased with what she saw.
Not that I blame you, Aunt Faith – I’d be pretty annoyed too if I found out he was playing the system to get round my wily attempt to force him to emotionally connect with life.
By eight o’clock that evening she’d just about given up hope of him appearing for dinner again and was about to start making enough food for one when she heard the front door open, then slam closed.
Heart thumping hard, she waited with bated breath to see whether he’d come to try and find her in the kitchen.
When he appeared in the doorway he seemed almost shocked to see her, as if he’d completely forgotten he had a wife.
‘Soli, hi,’ he said, frowning at her.
Steeling herself against a wave of disquiet, she said, ‘Hi. How was your day?’
Oh, man, why did she feel so awkward talking to him? Perhaps because he was still frowning at her as if wondering what she was still doing here.
‘It was fine,’ he said distractedly, glancing around the kitchen.
‘You’re back late again.’ She forced herself to smile graciously then waited to see whether this would trigger an apology for missing the dinner she’d made him the night before.
He ran a hand over his eyes and let out a sigh. ‘Yes. It’s not an uncommon occurrence.’
‘I see.’ So she wasn’t getting an apology, then.
‘How was your day?’ he asked instead.
He still wasn’t looking at her though; instead his gaze ran over the kitchen surfaces where she’d left some of her cake-making equipment.
‘Pretty good, thanks,’ she replied, pleased that he’d at least asked about her, even if he wasn’t entirely engaged in the conversation.
‘Are you planning on making stock for the cafe here?’ he asked abruptly, the terseness in his tone shooting a shiver of discomfort down her spine.
‘No, this is just some of my baking stuff from home. You don’t mind if I keep it in here, do you?’
He seemed to seriously consider this request for a second or two as if deciding whether he’d be prepared to share the space with her. ‘Sure. Why not?’ he said eventually.
‘Thanks,’ she said, slightly discomfited, hoping he wasn’t going to be this possessive about the rest of the house. Clearly, he wasn’t used to having someone invading his territory.
Perhaps a goodwill gesture would make him more tolerant of her presence here.
‘You know, I make a mean chocolate fudge cake. It’s a particular favourite in the cafe. I can make one for you, if you like. It’s yummy.’
She looked at him expectantly, hoping for some spark of interest.
‘No. Thanks. I’m not a big fan of desserts.’
The pleasure she’d initially felt at the thought of spending time with him tonight was rapidly draining out of her.
‘Oh. Okay.’ She forced an undaunted smile, despite the sting of rejection she felt. ‘No problem.’ She swallowed. ‘Have you eaten supper? I can make us some chilli. I’ve got all the ingredients right here.’
‘No. Thanks,’ he said again. ‘I had a late lunch and I’ve got a few calls to make to the US, so it’ll be a while before I’m done. You go ahead and eat without me.’ He gave her a curt nod, then turned to leave the room.
The last dregs of her optimism drained away, leaving her totally deflated.
His business-like attitude towards her was seriously denting her excitement at living here with him. It was becoming starkly clear that he didn’t want to spend any time with her and that he was deadly serious about keeping their relationship emotion-free.
Turning to stare down at the chopping board and the pile of ingredients for the food she didn’t really feel like eating any more, she was just about to pick up the knife to start chopping enough onions for one portion, determined not to let him totally disturb her equilibrium, when she realised he was still in the room.
When she turned to look at him, she saw he was leaning against the doorjamb, watching her with a thoughtful expression on his face.
