And that’s when I realize it’s not his sister or his mum Luke has been messaging all day. It’s Elena. His ‘work wife’.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
JESS
We walk back from the restaurant through the streets of Venice, over narrow canals with gently arching bridges, the moonlight and streetlights glittering on the dark water. It’s magical, but I feel sick to my stomach. When Luke tries to sling an arm over my shoulder, I shift so it slides off, making an excuse that it’s too heavy. He doesn’t seem to mind.
I didn’t have long before Luke returned from the men’s room, but I had enough time to see multiple messages between him and Elena every day, some of them work-related, yes, but many of them not. And if I thought Elena’s message to Luke was bad, I hadn’t factored in some of his messages to her.
You’re strong, you’re beautiful. You’ve got this! x
That one in particular sticks in my mind.
Elena might well be lonely. Her relationship with Felix fully fell apart in the last twelve months. It was around this time he disappeared completely from our lives, and then, last time, Elena followed, possibly a year or so later. But she wasn’t in businesswith my husband in that version of our lives, seeing him at least two or three times a week. Did I inadvertently set the stage for this to happen by putting my trust in him? That seems too cruel.
I didn’t have time to read the thread fully, dissecting each message and reply; it was more snapshots of different ones that jumped out to me. And yet … Nothing wassoinappropriate it was completely incriminating. There was nothing steamy or sexual. Even so, it isn’t right, is it? It isn’t good.
I think about how Luke’s phone buzzed when we went back to bed after breakfast. Did she message while we were … ? It doesn’t bear thinking about.
I don’t know what to do. I know I have to dosomething, but how do I even broach this subject? Part of me wants to bury my head in the sand and pretend I didn’t see any of it.
When we get back to our hotel, Luke asks if I want a limoncello sitting on the terrace. I tell him I’m tired, that I’d much rather just go back to our room. When we’ve climbed the stairs and shut the door behind us, he turns to me. ‘Jess, what’s up? You’ve been quiet since dessert at the restaurant. Did something not agree with you?’
I shake my head and turn to the dressing table and start removing my earrings and other jewellery. ‘No. I’m feeling fine.’
‘But you hardly touched your tiramisu – and it was the bit you were most excited about.’
I carefully press the butterfly onto the back of my earring and place it in my jewellery case. ‘I think I just wasn’t hungry by that point.’ Which is true. I couldn’t have forced another mouthful down.
He comes to stand behind me, places his hands on either side of my shoulders. ‘Jess … ’
I go still. ‘I’m fine. Honest.’
Luke sighs and his hands fall away. ‘I think I’ll have a shower.’
Moments later, I hear the water turn on and I let out a long breath. I know I just missed an opportunity. But I don’t know how to say what I need to say. I don’t know if I even want to.
Maybe Ishouldjust brush it under the carpet. There was nothing truly damning in those messages, even if it appears Luke and Elena are a lot closer than I thought they were. Maybe he’s just being a good friend after Felix left?
God, I’m pathetic.
My gut is telling me there’s more going on than I’m aware of and I’m ready to pretend it’s not happening? But isn’t that what Mrs Wonderful would do? She’d smile, keep her bright-red lipstick perfect, and woo him back with after-work martinis and divine pot roasts, all while looking like a Dior couture model.
Well, Mrs Wonderful can shove her martinis where the sun don’t shine.
While Luke is in the shower, I run over to his jacket hung on the back of the door and pull his phone out. He did tell me his passcode, but I’ve never needed to use it before, so after five attempts I give up. I’m pretty sure I’ve got the numbers right; I just can’t get them in the right order.
I’m just about to slide it back in his pocket when he comes out of the bathroom, one towel round his hips, rubbing his damp hair with another. He better not have usedmybath towel for that, or I’ll go nuts. Instead of replacing his phone, I walk towards him, holding it out. ‘You want to know what’s wrong? This is.’
He keeps rubbing his hair, but the top of his nose pinches in confusion as he takes it from me. ‘My phone?’
‘Your messages. With Elena.’
I don’t miss the way his eyes widen slightly and then he turns away, obscuring his face for a moment with the towel. ‘You wentsnooping in my phone?’ He doesn’t sound angry, just curious. Too calm for my liking.
‘No. A couple popped up while you were in the bathroom at the restaurant.’
He nods, his lips pressing together slightly. ‘They were probably about work,’ he says, as he throws the towel onto one of the armchairs and reaches for one of the fluffy robes hanging in the wardrobe.
