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The only advantage is that, as I explained to Zara, Dean won’t be there. He’ll be collecting Nash from school, and while I’d normally object to that, on this occasion, I think it’s for the best. If Dean was in the house when I was trying to speak with Sabrina about something so personal, I don’t think I’d feel very comfortable. Not that I expect to feel comfortable at any time during this conversation, but I think it’ll be better if we can keep it between the two of us.
I have to decide how much I want to tell Sabrina… how much she’s entitled to know. I’m not about to mention that Zara and I have slept together, or that I’m thinking of proposing. Because I am. Not even Zara knows about that yet, though, so there’s no way I’m gonna tell Sabrina. Even so, I guess I have to find some way of getting across how serious I am about Zara, so Sabrina understands why this matters so much.
I park outside her house and walk up the footpath, knocking on the door, surprised when Sabrina answers almost immediately. She usually delights in making me wait, but today she must have been watching for me. There was a time when that thought would have filled me with joy, but those days are long gone, and now it makes me feel uneasy, although I manage a smile as I step over the threshold.
“I thought we’d sit in the sunroom,” she says, turning away and leaving me to close the door.
I follow her, noting her tight business suit. It’s dark gray and clings to every contour of her body, although she won’t have worn it for my benefit. She never dressed like this when we were together, unless she was going to see a client… or a lover. Or both.
We leave the hall, entering a very modern kitchen, and I take a moment to glance around at the shiny countertop and white cabinets. I’ve never been in here before, and I have to say, even if this isn’t the biggest house in the world, it reeks of money.
“It’s good to know where my alimony payments are going,” I murmur, and she turns, glaring at me over her shoulder before she walks out into a sunroom at the back of the house.
Again, there’s been no expense spared in here, a comfortable couch taking up space at one end, and a long table at the other. It’s clear this is where Sabrina works, her laptop open in front of one of the chairs, and she closes it, indicating a seat at the end of the table, before sitting down herself.
I notice she doesn’t offer me anything to drink. This isn’t a social call – for either of us – and she leans forward, tilting her head, giving me a moment to observe how much makeup she’s wearing. That’s not unusual for her, but I’d forgotten how false it looked. Or maybe being with Zara has made me realize I prefer women who look more natural.
“What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until the weekend?” Sabrina asks, raising her eyebrows.
I decide I might as well come straight to the point. She’s clearly in a hurry, and I’ve got no desire to stay here any longer than necessary. I lean back in my seat and let out a sigh. “I’ve met someone.”
She frowns, and I half expect her to ask me to repeat myself, but then a smile forms on her bright red lips.
“How strange that you should tell me this just days after you found out Dean had moved in here.”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“So you expect me to believe you’ve suddenly started seeing someone? Just like that?”
“Yes. Her name’s Zara Howell, and I wanted to tell you about her before I tell Nash, so you’re informed about what’s going on.”
Her smile fades, her eyes darkening as she sits forward, resting her hands flat on the table in front of her.
“You mean you’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“And you haven’t told Nash yet?”
“No.”
“Good. Don’t.”
It’s my turn to sit forward. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want you to tell Nash,” she says, her voice firm. “I’m sure it won’t last between you and this woman, and I don’t want him getting upset.”
“Are you kidding? I can’t even keep track of the number of boyfriends you’ve had since we split up. Nash lives with you most of the time. Are you telling me he’s been ignorant of them all?”
“Some of them,” she says, shifting in her seat and looking a little uneasy. For a second I wonder how many of them have lived under her roof without my knowledge, but that’s history… and not the point.
“He’s sure as hell not ignorant of Dean, is he?” I raise my voice and she squares her shoulders.
“That’s different.”
“Does that mean you’re in love this time?” I ask, and she looks down at her hands. “I didn’t think so,” I say, filling the silence.
“Even so, I don’t want…”
