I nod, and he pulls me away from her. “We’ll be back with the drinks.”
If Madison guesses at my discomfort, she doesn’t let on. “Thank you ever so much!”
“Talk to me,” murmurs Alistair, as we make our way to the bar. He doesn’t break skin contact, making me feel more secure.
“She’s just so beautiful,” I complain. That full-on white-toothed smile and big sparkly eyes, a huge mane of perfectly highlighted blonde hair. The all-American beauty.
“Er, have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“I look nothing like her.” She makes me feel mousy, sepia-toned, boringly British.
“Thank god for that. She’s not my type at all.”
I laugh. “Alistair. Madison is everybody’s type. And she’s so disgustingly young.”
He side-eyes me. “You’re the same age.”
“We are not.”
“Tell me what’s really going on.”
I hesitate. I don’t want to come across as petulant and insecure. I am better than this. I am a strong and independent woman. “You know what’s going on. It’s embarrassingly obvious.”
We reach the bar, and Leo is every bit as gorgeous as Madison had promised. Early twenties, surfer vibe, a torso worthy of a steamy novel cover. But I don’t want him. I want Alistair.
We order three Singapore Slammers.
CHAPTER 4
Mid-Cocktail
ALISTAIR
Ivy’s discomfort is radiating off her. I don’t like it.
“Let’s have this drink and go,” I say.
She locks eyes with me. “I think we should stay. I need to push myself.”
I lean in and kiss her, open-mouthed, just for a moment, and taste the cocktail on her lips. Her stomach is taut against my thumbs as I hold her loosely at the waist. “No, you don’t. You don’t need to do anything except be the excellent human you are. And stay married to me, if at all possible.”
“But I want this.”
I hold her tighter. “But… do you?”
“I want to explore everything with you.”
My cock twitches, but I keep my expression neutral. “Me, too. But we don’t need to rush. We’ve got the rest of our lives together.”
“Do we, though?” she asks, and I see some light-heartedness return to her demeanor. “I mean, we’re hardly going to get invitations to this kind of party when we’re sixty.”
“You’d be surprised,” I tell her. “Retirement villages are rife with this kind of thing.”
Ivy laughs, and her shoulders drop.
“We can leave at any time, okay?”
She nods.
