‘Morning, lovely.’ Nadine opens the door before I can knock and Emily and Erin charge at me with the force of two baby elephants. Inhaling the scent of their strawberry shampoo, a turbulent wave of love crashes over me.
‘Mammy, we were just painting our nails with Nadine’s new polish. Come in. I don’t want to go yet.’ Erin pulls me through the door, gripping the bright-blue shirt resting over my stomach.
‘Tea?’ Nadine asks, as she struts into the off-white shabby chic kitchen, with the three of us on her tail.
‘Yes please. I’m nowhere near ready to go home yet. My kitchen is full of rugby players. Oh, and a retired female coach too.’
‘Hmm. So, you’ve heard?’ Nadine flicks the kettle on and the girls take their seats at the kitchen table, painting each fingernail a different colour of the rainbow.
‘I haven’t heard anything. Except my husband is buying property, something both of us agreed not to do ever again.’
Nadine rests her toned body against the rustic worktop as she waits for the water to boil. ‘He’s not doing it alone from what I gather. The old club means a lot to so many of them, I guess.’ She shrugs and her lips curl into an apologetic smile. ‘In all honesty, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. At the very least, it will provide Marcus a good distraction until he finds his feet in retirement.’
‘Golf, swimming, fishing, running, all of those would be a perfect example of a distraction.’ I cradle the mug of ginger tea Nadine hands me and sigh. ‘It would have been nice to be consulted, that’s all.’
‘If it’s any consolation, James didn’t ask my opinion either. It was decided before I even knew about it.’
Shaking my head, I try to shake off my irritation. It’s not just the property, it’s the lack of communication. The way we’ve been dancing round each other, excuse the pun. Hopefully tonight’s dinner out with friends will help. If we don’t tear each other’s eyes out in front of them. In the early days, anytime we’d row, we’d spend days in bed making up. Perhaps an argument might at least clear the air. My body aches for the make-up sex and my heart aches for the comfort of my husband’s love.
* * *
The Ivy is elegant and classically decorated. Mahogany tables gleam, light glitters through the copious amount of crystals and the decorative foliage trimming every corner of the room appears excessive and expensive.
Marcus and I manage to sit through three full courses without killing each other, though we haven’t exactly spoken much either. Surrounded by so many other bubbly personalities sharing the table with us, I’m hoping our problems are going relatively unnoticed.
Nathan’s fiancée, Kerry, has everyone crying with laughter as she regales the story of how Nathan managed to lose the engagement ring he was going to propose with while they were on a city break in Rome.
Kerry was Nathan’s daughter’s nanny, before she was his fiancée. Deep down, it’s one of the reasons I never wanted another woman round the house. I know Marcus loves me, and I’ve never doubted his loyalty, but you don’t go to SuperValu to do the food shopping on an empty stomach, or you end up buying and eating a load of shite. Nathan was single at the time, so it was different, but I’ve always felt uneasy at the prospect of another woman in my home, cooking for my family and minding my children.
‘So, when he finally located the ring, the fireworks were over and the hugest downpour literally erupted from the sky! Lads, I’d only just got my hair blow-dried, I was like “for fuck’s sake, Nate, what are you doing on your knees? Get up, will ya? I didn’t think you were religious!”’
I laugh along with the others but my heart isn’t in it. The need to reach out to Marcus, to connect with him properly, burns inside my chest like smouldering flame. But the fear of his rejection holds me back.
He’s always held a grudge longer than me, the stubborn mule. And if his rigid shoulders and crossed arms are anything to go on, he’s not ready to kiss and make up yet. Hell, I’m not even sure I am – the property purchase is still as raw as a freshly sliced paper cut, but vows are vows, and we agreed to work through everything.
‘So the wedding is booked for New Year’s Eve,’ Nathan announces, dropping an arm round Kerry’s shoulder, grinning down at her like they’re the only two in the room.
The others whoop and cheer at the prospect of another big day out, and less than three months away. Nathan orders champagne and the waitress pours for everyone as he toasts his beautiful fiancée. A sliver of envy whips through me at the innocence of their relationship. The shiny newness of it all. Sometimes I wish Marcus and I could go back to the early days, loaded with heady, heart-splitting excitement. How have we slipped so far from each other in such a short space of time?
Callum’s wife, Abby, passes me her glass of champagne. The waitress poured for everyone, obviously not realising she’s pregnant. I shoot her a grateful smile and down half of it in one. By the time I’ve finished the other half, I’m feeling a little braver. When our wedding song, ‘Somewhere Only We Know’, plays spontaneously in the background, I take it as a sign and decide to grab my bull by the horns.
Underneath the table, my hand inches towards my husband’s rock-solid leg. The definition of his powerful muscles protrude through dark jeans that hug his thighs. Lust reverberates through me, and as annoyed as I was earlier about the property, the prospect of spending the rest of the night making up and setting things right between us again, is one that quickens my heart rate, and sets a shiver of excitement searing through my stomach and lower.
As my fingers finally reach their destination, caressing the rough material covering those smooth muscles, Marcus flinches. It’s like a dagger slicing through my shoulder blades. I whip my hand away as if I’ve been burned and Marcus leans down to speak quietly into my ear, low enough so our friends don’t hear.
‘Not now, Shelly.’ He bites his lower lip and there’s a sadness in his hazel eyes as he exhales a long, slow breath.
Rising from the table, I excuse myself on the pretence of going to the toilet but I just need to escape before the colour drains entirely from my face. If I thought this was going to be an easy fix between us, clearly I was wrong.
