Page 59 of The Work Husband

And we both stopped again.

There was no guide to the conversation we were about to have. No way of knowing how it was going to go. The only thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to be having it in the first place, which was why I’d avoided it for so long.

There was no avoiding it now.

He said, ‘Okay, I’ll start. I’m sorry you saw Ava here today. I’m sorry you read that… thing she wrote. I get how upsetting that must be for you. I wish you’d talked to me about it before.’

‘I tried, Sam!’ For all my desire to remain calm, I could hear the note of panic and desperation creeping into my voice. ‘I tried, over and over. But you were just like, “I’m seeing her, and I’m going to carry on seeing her, and I’m not going to tell you what’s going on, so you’ll just have to put up with it.”’

‘So you snooped and you found that note?’

‘I did not snoop! I was doing washing. I went through your pockets like I always do because you always leave crap in there and it fucks up my clothes.’

Sam sighed. ‘Don’t play the housework blame game with me, Georgia. You know I do my share.’

‘I’m not saying you don’t. I’m saying you leave stuff in the pockets of your fricking clothes, so it’s perfectly reasonable for me to check them before I put them in the washing machine.’

‘Look, how about we run through our laundry system another time?’ Infuriatingly, he was changing the subject that he’d brought up in the first place. ‘I was trying to apologise – to explain – and you’re just having a go at me.’

‘Of course I’m having a go at you! I found a love letter from your ex in your jeans!’

‘It wasn’t a bloody love letter, Georgia, for God’s sake. Stop being so dramatic.’

‘Oh, so I’m being dramatic now?’ Anger was rising inside me, almost overwhelming the hurt and betrayal I felt. I could sense already that this was going all kinds of wrong – not that there was a right way it could have gone. ‘What are you going to call me next? Hysterical?’

‘That’s not a word I’d use. But you’re sure as fuck being unreasonable.’

It took an almost physical effort for me to subdue my fury.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Then how would a reasonable person react when she found that letter?’

‘Maybe,’ he began, his voice heavy with sarcasm, ‘just maybe, a reasonable person would have asked me about it and given me a chance to explain, instead of simmering over it for a week and a half and building it up into something it isn’t.’

‘And if I’d asked you about it, what would you have said? “It’s not a love letter, Georgia. There’s nothing going on between me and Ava, Georgia. I can’t tell you anything, Georgia. Shut up and get back in your box, Georgia⁠—”’

‘I’ve never told you to shut up.’

‘You might as well have done. You’ve had zero consideration for my feelings since this whole thing with you and Ava started, Sam. You’ve completely disrespected me as well as hurt me. You’ve treated me like I just don’t matter.’

‘There is no “whole thing” between me and Ava. That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to understand.’

We looked at each other. It was like the Sam I knew had disappeared and been replaced by a cold, obdurate stranger, determined to say the same thing over and over again until I believed it.

But I didn’t believe it. I’d tried to and it hadn’t worked – and now I was totally over trying.

‘Then what was she doing here today? In our flat, on our sofa, having a lovely cry on your shoulder?’

I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but his face got even colder – even harder.

‘If you thought that was a lovely cry, Georgia, you’re seriously lacking empathy.’

‘Empathy?’ I echoed incredulously. ‘Where’s the empathy for me? And what would you want me to say? “Oh, poor Ava, has something happened to upset her? Why don’t I make her a nice cup of tea?”’

‘That would have been a better start than having a massive temper tantrum because I’m comforting someone I care about when they’re upset.’ The calmness in his voice was infuriating.

‘I did not have a massive temper tantrum.’ Even as I said the words, I knew I sounded like someone who was about to have a massive temper tantrum. ‘And stop infantilising me!’

‘I’ll stop infantilising you when you stop acting like a child,’ he said.