‘If I said I was single you wouldn’t have talked to me.’ He looked at me from under indecently long eyelashes. ‘You are the best-looking woman in the bar.’
‘I’m the only woman in the bar.’ I waved my arm at the empty silence surrounding us. ‘You are a wolf in sheep’s clothing!’ I cringed, remembering all I’d shared with him, unsure if I was mad or delighted.
Our entire encounter was morally wrong, but something about it felt ridiculously right.
The shift in the atmosphere was clear. Now the cards were on the table. The ball was in my court.
I gathered my handbag and my heels and walked barefoot with him into the lift. A heavy silence lingered between us for the first time that night. The atmosphere was charged with illicit possibility.
As the lift doors opened on the first floor, my empty bed awaited me.
I stood motionlessly staring at his questioning features, my feet cemented to the floor, unable to leave.
The doors closed again, and the lift progressed upwards to the fourth floor.
Our eyes locked in an unspoken agreement.
My clammy hand felt small in his as he guided me along the narrow corridor to his room. It was dark, despite the fact it was broad daylight outside; the heavy curtains had been long since drawn.
We stood a foot apart, our hands still entwined. My breath caught in my throat as he attempted to close the distance between us. The masculine scent of his aftershave lingered in the air around us, enveloping me.
The temptation was like nothing I’d experienced before. The devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear and begged me to take a big juicy bite from the forbidden apple.
Guilt ripped through me.
Lust battled logic.
I couldn’t do it, this wasn’t me.
It went against everything I claimed to believe in. I’d never wanted anybody more in my entire twenty-seven years, but I wasn’t allowed. I signed a contract to prove it.
I bolted before I could change my mind, running out the door as fast as my swollen feet would carry me, tackling the stairs two at a time until I reached the safety of the first floor.
Heidi lay snoring four feet away from me.
From my cold crisp bed, I sent him a text.
I’m sorry.
And I truly was. For myself, as much as him. A deep sense of loss penetrated my core, though it had no right doing so.
My heavy heart was crushed by my own stupidity. I should never have put myself in that situation, or let it get that far.
Though I couldn’t bring myself to regret it fully.
My eyes had been opened.
Change was imminent.
Chapter Two
SATURDAY 30TH JUNE 2012
I had less than two hours sleep. My mouth was like the bottom of a birdcage and my head pounded. Nausea hovered in my gut. It wasn’t the alcohol. Raw, acidic guilt stripped the lining of my stomach.
I had sailed dangerously close to the wind, and the worse thing about it was, it had felt so right. I’d felt at one with John right away. I knew in my heart if I crossed the line physically, I’d go home to my husband and confess. And it would be really ugly. One thing I did not do well with was guilt and secrets. No one could punish me more than I would punish myself.
Entwined with the guilt was a shattering sadness. For the first time in my life, I had glimpsed a different path. I met a younger, carefree version of myself. A version that didn’t have to maintain a façade or uphold a life where everything was planned, clogging the emptiness inside.
