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I turn my attention back to Jemima. ‘I know Simon thinks I should sell, but I really don’t know that I will.’
‘He’s looked into it a bit. He really does know what he’s talking about.’
I know she’s trying to be kind, to look out for me, but I wouldn’t trust Simon even with choosing a logo for my business. I shake my head. ‘I’ve got some great advisors weighing in.’
‘Let Simon help you,’ she insists. Her eyes hold a challenge and it infuriates me. She knows what happened between us. I told her—because how could I not? I’m a firm believer that a woman should know if her husband’s messing around behind her back. Jemima simply told me I must have misunderstood, that he’d never cheat on her and certainly not with her own sister.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to have misunderstood his slurred voice whispering that we should get a hotel room together.
‘I’ll think about it,’ I offer, placatingly. I suppose her desire to see the best in her husband is only natural.
‘Now, Christmas lunch...’ Mum changes the subject with her usual panache for avoiding conflict. ‘Martha’s planning a turkey this year.’
‘It’s going to be so hot,’ I point out, then compress my lips because it sounds petulant. ‘But of course there’s air conditioning and we can go for a swim.’
‘It’s not Christmas without turkey and trimmings,’ Jemima agrees. ‘I’ll make the pudding. You know, Si’s family one?’
‘Yep.’ I wonder what Zach does for Christmas. His brother lives here, doesn’t he? And his new
wife and nephew? Will he spend it with them? Or his mum? More questions. I’ll ask him tonight.
I frown. Tonight? Am I seeing him tonight? I’ve seen him every night since we agreed to this. But we haven’t made any arrangement that we’ll hook up each night, it’s sort of just happened. I’ve gone to his place simply because it made sense to do so. A feeling of unease creeps through me, a feeling of resistance because I don’t want to be so easy. I don’t want to be so...enamoured of him.
‘Let’s get shopping, ladies,’ I say a little hastily, pushing my plate away. Mum finished her salad earlier and Jemima’s been picking for the last ten minutes. I signal for the bill, impatient now to do something else. I don’t want to think about Zach any more—I have a sinking suspicion I’ve already given him way too much of my time.
* * *
How was shopping?
I read his text message and my tummy goes all loopy.
I slide my hand through the water of my bath, a smile lifting my cheeks. It’s just past eight o’clock. I’ve been for a run in the hotel gym, done some work, eaten some sushi. That is to say, I’ve kept busy and ignored the fact I hadn’t heard from him and that my body is in overdrive with wanting him.
Which is all the more reason to lie low. Just for tonight. Just to prove to myself that I can.
I write back.
I think we bought half of Singapore. I got you a Christmas-themed tie.
Anyone who claims to hate Christmas should have a Christmas tie. I saw it and couldn’t resist—the garish colours and Santa motif will be perfect for Zach.
I know exactly what I’d like to do with that.
Oh?
I include a little ‘shrug’ emoji.
It involves you, and my bed.
My heart thumps.
I can’t imagine what you mean.
Then you need a demonstration.
Perhaps that can be arranged. Tomorrow night?
There’s a pause. My heart soars.
