SHELLY
At the studio, Ben hovers by the double doors waiting for me. His broad, lean torso rests lithely against the doorframe. Without uttering a single word, he manages to emit a reassuring empathy. Obviously the entire world and their wives have seen the news, and typically today is one of the days we’re due to have a live audience in.
The prospect of the catcalling and questions is unbearable. My phone is on fire between thirty-eight missed calls from Marcus, several hundred messages and a million Instagram notifications.
I snatch the takeaway cup he clutches without so much as muttering a thank you.
‘Want to talk about it?’ His hand lands on my shoulder, and it’s comforting. Knowing I’m not alone. Knowing he’s here for me. That I have friends – aSexy Come Dancingfamily that I’ve grown to love over the past couple of months.
‘No.’ Strutting through the studio, I’m immediately handed my microphone and ear piece. There’s no way the producers would chance missing this scoop. Even though I understand the need for drama for the ratings, it still infuriates me. This is my life under scrutiny. My marriage and my family. It’s too much. A sob threatens to burst from my mouth but I bite it back down, masking it with a cough.
Ben takes the cup from my hand and places it on the ground next to us. Wrapping his toned arm around my shoulder, he holds me against his chest in a tight embrace. After last night with Marcus, Ben feels small and lacking in comparison. Despite everything, my husband is all I want. He’s all I ever wanted.
When Ben’s low voice murmurs into my ear, I almost miss what he says – almost.
‘I tried to tell youthat night, Shelly.’ Cupping my chin, angling my face to his. ‘In The Marker Hotel. If you were mine, I’d never look at another woman. You should have picked me.’ His next words are so faint, they’re barely more than a breath, yet they’re delivered into my ear loud and clear. ‘It’s still not too late.’
The words Ben just murmured, it’s not the first time he’s said them to me. Between being in his arms and the scent of his aftershave – the same one he’s worn forever – realisation strikes. The drunken memory that my subconscious has been repressing all these weeks suddenly surfaces, hitting me with the sobriety brought on by a bucket of ice cold water after one too many wines.
I’m wearing the black-mesh dress and we’re at The Marker, at the awards night. There’s a queue for the ladies, so I slip into the disabled toilets. As I feel across the wall in search of the light switch, the door clicks behind me and huge hot hands grope my backside. My initial reaction is to shriek, but laughter instantly replaces it. Marcus has been insatiable since he got back from France. It’s like he’s determined to make the most of every single day, multiple times.
Pregnancy was hard, we weren’t intimate throughout. So, the second the consultant gave me the go-ahead to resume ‘normal marital activities’ he’s been sniffing round me like a hungry lion. Hot lips press against the back of my neck, chasing goosebumps across my spine. He cups my breasts and moans as if he’s waited to touch them for a lifetime instead of a mere few hours.
‘You just can’t stay away, can you?’
A deep throaty laugh echoes through the darkness at the same time I eventually find the light switch.
‘Oh, Shelly. If only you knew...’ A gasp catches in my throat as I process that it’s not my husband’s hands on my breasts, it’s Ben’s.
‘Ben! What are you doing in here? You scared the shit out of me.’ I push his hands from the mesh of my dress. He wipes the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. I chose to ignore the remaining trace of white of powder there.
‘Seriously? Where I was standing, you seemed anything but scared.’ His finger tracks my jawline, angling my face to his.
‘Ben, this isn’t appropriate. Stop fooling around. It’s one step too far.’ I yank my head away, tearing myself from his heated stare.
‘That’s just it, Shelly. I’m not fooling around. I never was. It’s always been real for me.’ Cupping my chin, he tilts my face upwards. His ice blue eyes blaze with fiery longing, leaving me no doubt of his truest, deepest desires. His teeth nip at his lower lip, as if he’s willing them not to say any more.
‘Jesus, I think I’m in love with you. If you were mine, I’d never look at another woman.’
His lips brush against my ear as he whispers into them.
Is he trying to imply…? Before I have time to overanalyse it, someone bangs on the toilet door and I jump.
‘You should have picked me. It’s still not too late..’
‘We’re drunk, Ben. Let’s forget this ever happened.’ Turning on my heels, I open the door to find Eddie outside it, with a thunderous expression on his face.
Ben shoves past Eddie and calls, ‘It should have been so different. It still could be.’
It was the same year Erin was born. Which means it was the same year Maddy’s child was born. Is that what Ben was alluding to all those years ago? Did he suspect Marcus had been unfaithful? If so, why didn’t he just come out and say it?
Ben declined the invitation to our wedding. Marcus called it, he said it was because he had feelings for me. I was adamant he was way off the mark. Ben had never given any indication that his teasing flirtations were anything more than to wind up Marcus. Apart from that night at The Marker, and now.
Huge appraising eyes bore into mine. Static flickers in my ear piece, reminding me we’re not alone, we are never alone here. There’s no such thing as privacy in this place, – Ava airing footage from the changing room proved that.
Ben knows that, and yet he still said what he did.
Is he for real?
