Page 48 of The Work Husband

Jamie took a huge bite of his sandwich, looking for a second like a hungry shark – if sharks had perfectly trimmed beards.

‘Not necessarily,’ he mumbled.

I waited for him to finish chewing, lifting the top off my bagel and forking up a fragment of smoked salmon. ‘How do you mean?’

‘He might be playing the long game. Having both of you going at once. It’s been known to happen.’

It had indeed been known to happen – and not that far from home. Just a few months ago, Jamie had been dating three different women he’d met on the apps, each of whom believed they were exclusive. The fallout when they’d found out was epic – even Jamie had been rattled.

‘This is different, though,’ I said. ‘And even if it wasn’t – I’d have to let him get away with it. And I’m not going to do that. I can’t.’

‘What a player.’ Jamie sipped his Coke, his tone almost respectful. ‘I’d never have thought your Sam had it in him. What a bastard. I can’t believe he’s doing this to you, Georgia. The absolute fool.’

‘Me neither. I… Until this all happened, I trusted him. I never thought he’d do something like this.’

‘No tears.’ Jamie passed me a napkin. ‘Come on, your mascara will run. You need a strategy, not a cry.’

‘I do need a cry,’ I protested. His sympathy, overlaid as it was with brusqueness, made my eyes prickle and my throat close up.

‘Well, don’t have one now. You’ll set me off.’

It was impossible to imagine Jamie ever crying. The thought was so absurd that I found myself smiling.

‘So what are you going to do?’ he asked.

Helplessly, I nibbled a bit more salmon. ‘I don’t know. It’s all so complicated. I can’t just tell him he’s a cheating ratbag and I’m leaving. There’s the mortgage and the cat and all our stuff and…’

I trailed off. When we’d bought the flat, it had seemed like such a wonderful opportunity – the money I’d saved up from my years in yachting, mine and Sam’s combined salaries and his savings just sufficient to gain us a toe-hold on the property ladder and a home we both loved. A safe place where I could put down roots at last – roots that would grow deeper and more stable with time and the nurturing of our love.

It had seemed so simple – sixty per cent mine, forty per cent his, and if it all went wrong, we’d just take out what we’d put in and go our separate ways. Not that I’d ever expected it to go wrong. And now that it had, untangling our shared life felt impossibly complex. What about the new bathroom we’d had installed thanks to a generous gift from Sam’s father? What about the furniture we’d chosen together and the paint we’d put on the walls over the course of one exhausting, messy weekend?

What about us? What about the future I’d imagined us having together?

‘I know I’ll have to tell him,’ I said at last. ‘Then I suppose we’ll have to put the flat on the market. Neither of us can afford it on our own. Unless she…’

A horrible thought burst into my mind. Ava, moving into my home. Ava making her morning coffee in my kitchen (although she’d have to prise the coffee machine out of my cold, dead hands). Ava’s clothes in the wardrobe. Strands of Ava’s copper hair clogging up the plughole in the bathroom. Ava waking up in bed with Sam, every morning forever, just like I’d thought I would.

‘It’s just a flat,’ Jamie said gently, pulling me from my thoughts. ‘It’s just bricks and mortar and – you know. Stuff.’

‘I know. But it’s our bricks and mortar and our stuff.’

‘Maybe it was just the one night?’ he suggested. ‘Just a one-off. Maybe he’ll say he’s sorry and it’ll never happen again. Then what? He loves you; you love him. You could get past it.’

I tried to imagine that scenario. Sam confessing, tearfully admitting that it had been a moment of madness, a never-to-be repeated mistake. Could I put it behind me, move on, forgive him?

Part of me would want to, I knew. But I also knew, in a moment of blinding clarity, that it wouldn’t work. I’d never be able to be truly happy with Sam again, never rebuild the trust that had been destroyed, no matter how much I wanted to.

‘I don’t think it would make any difference,’ I said sadly. ‘It’s done now.’

Jamie finished his sandwich. ‘Are you going to eat that bagel or just goad it with your fork?’

I pushed my plate across to him and sipped my fizzy water. He put the top back on the bagel and took a bite, cream cheese squishing out of the sides.

‘Where does this Ava bitch live anyway?’ he asked. ‘Tell me and I’ll go round and break her legs.’

I managed a smile. ‘I don’t know. And you wouldn’t do that anyway. It’s Sam’s fault just as much as it is hers.’

‘I’ll break his, then. He can’t hurt you like this and get away with it. I know where he lives.’