SHELLY
Kicking the front door closed behind me, the scent of spiced lamb wafts past my nose. Either Marcus bought takeout, or after almost seventeen years he’s decided to master the kitchen himself. My appetite has virtually evaporated since I started the show, despite the extra calories I’m using.
This week, Ben and I have been tasked with the Charleston. I’m finding it hard to concentrate again, with our marital troubles weighing heavily on my heart. Every limb is tight with tension at the thought of another evening avoiding each other, avoiding discussing our problems.
Marcus and I have been civil, especially in front of the girls, but a cold hard protective wall surrounds my heart whenever he’s near me. If he has nothing to hide, why won’t he just ask Maddy to prove he’s not Zoe’s father? She’s supposed to be ‘his friend’ after all.
The more time that passes without him producing the evidence, the further my heart sinks inside. I ricochet from being absolutely certain I’m right, to doubting myself, wondering if I’m going completely crazy. Bouncing back and forth between the two over and over again in my mind.
Marcus and Maddy seemed too familiar to have just met, and even a blind man could see the striking resemblance between him and the little girl. I wish he’d put me out of my misery and prove it, one way or another.
Tonight, I’m going to have to speak to him. I want him to bring Emily and Erin to this Saturday night’s show. It’s the semi-final, and no one, least of all me, expected we’d get this far. If Marcus can’t sit through it, perhaps Bernie will. The semi-final is Halloween themed. They’d enjoy it, I’m certain.
When I enter the kitchen, Marcus stands at the range, braising meat in the pan. He turns as my heels click against the tiled floor, flashing me the warmest smile I’ve seen in weeks.
Even though I’m mad as hell with him, he’s still as attractive as the first day I laid eyes on him. My rough diamond. He has a bone structure that most women would trade their soul for. The five o’clock stubble that shadows his jaw only adds to his raw masculinity.
‘I’m making dinner. I hope you’re hungry.’ Adding some sort of seasoning to his creation, he nods towards a bottle of Dom Pérignon on the counter.
It’s the longest sentence he’s spoken to me in days.
Emily and Erin sit on the couch, both barely glance up at my return. In a matter of weeks, my absence has become normal to them. That alone is enough of a shock to head for the bottle, but not before giving them both a kiss. They’ve adapted to Marcus being their primary career, and though I’m glad they’re not unhappy with me working, selfishly, I feel kind of hurt that I’ve been so easily replaced.
The cork exits the bottle with a beautiful bang. ‘Are we celebrating something?’ The image of him and Maddy laughing together in this very kitchen, her arm draped over his bicep as he poured her drink is etched into my subconscious forever more. Do I dare believe he has obtainedsomethingto reassure me?
The grin on his face flickers and fades. He turns down the cooker and fetches us two champagne flutes. ‘I didn’t ask Maddy if I could violate her child’s privacy by requesting a sample of her DNA, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Well then, how are we any further forward?’ I hold out my glass, I think I’m going to need it. My resistance to him is wavering.
Marcus fills it, but snatches it from me before I can sample it. Grabbing both my hands in his, he pulls me closer to him, inhaling the scent of my hair in an animalistic manner. ‘God, I fucking miss you, Shelly.’
My anger’s been withering slowly for days, a sad sense of acceptance falling into its place. How did we fall so far from each other, so quickly? His powerful chest feels foreign to me. It’s been so long, and I’ve been pressed against another, day in and day out for weeks. Marcus is bigger than Ben, stronger, more powerful. Ben’s pecs are smaller but more defined.Get a grip, Shelly!Why am I even comparing them?
He leans to press his lips against the top of my head with a tenderness he doesn’t look capable of, and despite our problems, I let him – craving the physical comfort as ever. Fighting is exhausting. I don’t want to do it any longer than necessary.
‘Shelly, I’d never hurt you. I love you. I’d never be unfaithful, but listen to me for a second. Think about it rationally, if you were Maddy and one of the fathers you just met a few weeks ago while doing the school run went on to ask you for a DNA sample from your child, how would you feel about it?’
He has a point, but I can’t shake the uncanny resemblance. It’s too much of a coincidence. I want nothing more than to go back to our old ways. To trust and love each other like we used to. But fear holds me back. I watched my father lie to my mother for years.
‘Hypothetically speaking, if I was stupid enough to do something like that…’
My teeth grit so hard they’re in danger of cracking.
‘Hypothetically, Shelly, do you think I’d be stupid enough to enrol the same child into my daughter’s class? Seriously?’ He eyes me with an even sincerity.
‘It might be handy,’ I mutter, snatching my champagne back from where he left it on the marble counter.
‘Come on, Shell. You have to see how crazy it sounds.’ He rests his backside against the worktop and takes a sip from his own drink. ‘It’s been a crazy few weeks. I admit, I acted like a tosser over the show. I was jealous. Not of you being invited on to it, you know better than anyone I couldn’t think of anything worse than prancing around like a prat on national television. I was jealous you got paired with Ben, when in his mind, you probably should have been together the last seventeen years anyway.’
I swallow back another mouthful of bubbles and the tension begins to slip from my shoulders. ‘Don’t be daft.’
‘So, you don’t have a thing for him then?’ Doubt and a hint of vulnerability dance in his huge hazel eyes.
‘The only person I ever had a thing for was you.’
With his fingertips resting lightly on my waist, Marcus pulls me in front of him, just inches between us. A profound, raw emotion cracks between us. A new-found understanding, both of us exposing our weakest spots, willing the other not to abuse it.
The way his pupils bore into mine there’s no doubt he’s looking straight into my soul. He’s the only person who’s ever seen me, really seen me. His Adam’s apple bobs, as his grip on my waist increases and he wiggles my pelvis closer to rest against his. His desire presses against me, it’s mirrored in his hungry eyes, eyes which he can’t seem to tear away from me.
