Bizarrely, I found myself longing to meet them. I liked them already. I listened, attempting to conjure an image of the stunning scenery he described, imagine the kind of life he led amongst the countryside and cattle.
‘Do you live near the sea?’ I grew up on the Isle of Wight. There’s something so reassuring in the swell of the waves and the sound of the sea lapping the shore.
‘You could say that.’ His full lips curved into a smirk, but he chose not to elaborate.
He was so different to anyone I’d ever encountered before. His accent was addictive; I could have listened to him talk forever. He was self-assured, but completely grounded. His manner was wholesome, understated, but full of promise. The attraction escalated with every exchange.
Hours passed. The bar emptied; the night drew dangerously close to an end. I did something I’d never done during my married life.
‘Can we swap numbers?’ I was infatuated and the alcohol had made me brave or stupid. I wasn’t sure which.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ A chuckle rumbled in his chest. He took my number and rang my phone, so I’d have his.
Guilt scorched my stomach lining, but the thought of him walking out the door never to be seen again crushed my core.
‘Visit me in Ireland, anytime. No strings attached…’ Sincerity hung on his every word.
Call it instinct. I believed him.
His quiet confidence allowed me to imagine for once I might be able to let someone else take the reins, and hand over some carefully collected control that I normally relinquished.
‘Stranger things have happened.’ Just not to me.
It was embarrassingly late, or early, whichever way you wanted to look at it. The impending goodbye loomed, and the thought physically nauseated me.
The sun had risen. Soon, breakfast would be served in this very room, as if everything was normal, as if my world hadn’t been turned upside down in the space of a few short hours.
There was no excuse for me to still be here, yet I couldn’t tear myself away.
‘I wish I wasn’t married,’ I blurted, before I could overthink it.
‘Iwish you weren’t married.’ John glanced wistfully at me.
‘It was never my plan.’ Apparently, I hadn’t quite finished unburdeningallof my secrets. ‘We have nothing in common. We’re a habit. Like an old jumper with bobbles on. There’s a familiar sort of comfort in it but you know you should throw it away; it would never be the same again. Except it isn’t a jumper, it’s a person. A person I made a promise to in front of all my friends and family, at a point where I thought it was what I wanted. Needed, even. I got married knowing I wasn’t in love. But I was looking for a partner, not that mad head over heels, crazy in love. I don’t believe in that.’ I paused and swallowed the lump forming in my throat.
‘I didn’t believe in that.’ I corrected myself, fleetingly wondering if it were possible to be half in love with this stranger already.
The man whose allure pulled so deep, tugging at the strings of the heart I’d forgotten I owned.
Was this what it felt like?
‘I don’t want to be the person that failed, that gave up. But there is nothing there. And to be honest, there never was. I’ll never have children with him. I can’t be forever tied to him, so I’ve accepted I’ll never have a family.’ The cold hard facts stung as I uttered the words out loud.
I blinked back a tear threatening, praying it was just the alcohol making me so unrecognisable to myself.
Oceanic eyes gazed thoughtfully back at me.
‘It never bothered me before. I often find myself thinking if I got hit by a bus in the morning, I’ve had a good life. I’m twenty-seven. It’s no way to live. It’s not easy being married, is it?’ I pleaded with him to acknowledge my truth, tell me that none of it was simple, and everyone felt this way to some extent.
I wondered about the woman he’d married. If they were happy. How I envied her right now. How I would love him to be mine. To feel his skin against my skin. The prospect ignited every nerve ending in my neglected body.
He hesitated for several seconds. ‘The thing is, Lucy, I’m not actually married.’
‘What?’ I’d spilled my soul to this man, opened my heart, only to be told he’d lied to me from the beginning. Is that what happened when you let your guard down?
I wanted to be mad, I really did. But instead, I felt the faintest glimmer of hope when I was in no position to hope for anything.
Anxiety bubbled in my stomach. Things were spiralling out of control. An unfamiliar, dangerous stirring of butterflies swooped through my stomach.
