That’ll make sense, I suppose, but I just can’t get my head round it. ‘But of all the women there … My mum? He must be at least fifteen years younger than her!’
Luke’s mouth pulls into something that’s part-smile, part-grimace. ‘To be fair, I’m guessing it’s your mum who made the first move, but even if she hadn’t, she’s a good-looking woman. And, okay, he has a job that people have certain preconceptions about, but he’s still a man. In the grand scheme of things, he got caught kissing someone in the garden. There’s nothing horrendously evil about that. However, whether everyone feels proud of themselves in the morning will remain to be seen.’
I can’t help but laugh at that. I relax against Luke and sigh. This feels nice. This was the time when Luke was my rock, my everything, and I need that right now.
Sometimes, I just feel so lonely. Even though I’m married to a man who is – or used to be – this kind and understanding, I’ve been feeling a gnawing sense of emptiness for a long time. And it’s only become magnified since I’ve been having this weird, ongoing experience of déjà vu.
It’s not as if I can tell anyone about what’s happening to me. They’d think I was having a psychiatric episode, and maybe they wouldn’t be wrong. On top of that, every day I’m reliving isn’t a run-of-the-mill Thursday, where I go to work, come home, cook dinner, watch some TV … The last three days have been major milestones in my life, causing a rollercoaster of emotions. I’m exhausted.
So, when Luke runs his hand up my neck, pulls me to him and starts to kiss me, I don’t resist. In fact, I kiss him back. Enthusiastically. I just want to stop thinking about it all. I don’t want to think about anything, so I don’t. I just feel. I let the sheer physical pleasure of my wedding night sweep it all away until I’m lying half-asleep in Luke’s arms, my heartbeat steady and slow for the first time in days, and refusing to think about tomorrow.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LUKE
Eight Months Before the Anniversary Party
Hey. I know you’re probably very busy, but I wondered if I could ask a favour?
He reads the message and smiles.Sure.
I’m doing a house in Dulwich and I wondered if youremembered the name of that reclamation yard you got those amazing church pews from? My client is DESPERATE for some.
Sullivan’s. That’s the name of the reclamation yard. Near Paddock Wood in Kent. An absolute treasure trove of old doors, flooring, tiles and oddities. They nearly always had a church pew or ten in stock.
He taps the name of the place into the box and presses ‘send’.
She responds with five thumbs-up emojis and a face with hearts for eyes, which makes him laugh. Elena is always so warmand enthusiastic, and it’s nice to feel as if he’s been helpful in some way. It’s nice to feel useful. Wanted. He’s about to add another message, reminding her that, because it’s out in the back of beyond, the sat nav will try and take her down a dirt path with a gate at the end, but he’s only typed two letters when he stops.
Stuff it. Who’s got time for long-winded messages? It’s probably just easier to call.
Seconds later, the phone is ringing and then a soft, warm voice says, ‘’Ola?’
PAPER
How strange that a material made from a pulp derived from wood, rags, grass or even dung, can be a vehicle for great things. It’s not the paper itself that is glorious, but the fact we can adorn it with our souls – art, music and words birthed in the secret places of our hearts.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JESS
The journey from asleep to awake is slow, warm, and deliciously fuzzy. My body is relaxed and satisfied, and the storm that has been whirling inside me for days is momentarily quelled. Warm skin touches my back, my thighs, my calves. A heavy arm drapes over my midriff and curls tightly around me. I fully breathe out, and it almost feels as if I’ve never done that properly before.
When I open my eyes, the room is dark, moonlight playing at the edges of the curtains. As my brain comes to life, I begin putting the puzzle pieces together – where I am, who I’m with …
I lie in Luke’s arms, a strange sense of peace radiating from my core. I’d forgotten how happy we were in the days and weeks following our wedding. Life was perfect. I didn’t care where we were or what we were doing as long as we were together. He was my safe harbour in the storm of life. He was my sun and I was happy to be the insignificant satellite that circled around him and bathed in his warmth.
But as I lie there, breathing, an ache begins to throb deep inside me.
Roommates? Best friends?
What have we done to ourselves?
Lying here with him is painful and glorious all at the same time. I feel raw, as if all my skin has been stripped away and every sensation is heightened. If he opens his eyes and looks at me the way he did the night he walked out the door, I don’t think I can survive it.
I should go. I should slide out from underneath his warm arm, dress quietly, take the car and drive somewhere. Anywhere.
Luke stirs and I freeze. But then he exhales heavily, throws his arm back over his head, and his breathing becomes even again. The way is clear. I could edge out from beside him without waking him up.
