I knew that if Harry was likely to get in touch in the evening, I’d sit there waiting for his message, yearning for it. I wouldn’t be able to have my phone out of my sight. He’d be the same, he’d said. I didn’t even have his number on my phone; I couldn’t bear the thought of Tom finding a text or a voice mail message there, of thinking—knowing—something was going on.
So in all that time we didn’t swap numbers. We would talk on the office phone, send internal messages throughout the day, but most of all we’d just talk face-to-face. His office was next to mine; we could see each other through the glass. That afternoon, though, we’d entered each other’s numbers onto our phones and he made us memorize them, too, just in case.
“In case of what?” I’d asked.
“In case I’m so eager to get to the hotel that I crash the car,” he’d said. “Think of it—the car crashes, the phone’s destroyed. I’ll need to get the ambulance guys to call you.”
I’d gone back to my desk to do some work, and he called me on the office phone several times over the next few hours, just to tell me my own mobile number. I was no better; I did the same. We were both giddy with excitement. Apprehension, too.
That afternoon, as soon as Sarah had left work for the weekend, I’d tapped at his office door and said, “Tonight?”
His face had lit up and I knew that he loved me. “Tonight.”
“You’re sure? It’s not too late to back out.”
He nodded. “I’m absolutely sure,” he said. “I promise.”
* * *
? ? ?
An hour later my skin was pink and soggy with the heat of the water and I hauled myself out of the bath. I knew he wouldn’t come that night, but I thought of the next morning, of him arriving at the hotel while I slept, coming into my room and kissing me awake. As I smoothed body lotion into my skin and brushed my teeth, ready for sleep, I thought of him at home right then, thought of them arguing, him telling his wife he loved me. His wife crying. I caught my eye in the mirror and looked away. It was his suggestion we got together, I reminded myself. He said it would all work out, that he and Emma were unhappy together. That he loved me and wanted to be with me.
Still, though, when I put on moisturizer I didn’t look at my reflection in the mirror, and when I turned off the lamps and lay in the darkness, my face was hot with shame.
CHAPTER 6
Ruby
I woke with a jolt at seven the next morning. The curtains in the hotel room were thick and the room was dark. For a moment I thought I was in my bedroom at home with Tom beside me, but when I stretched out my leg and found nothing but the cool sheets, I remembered everything.
Last night I was awake until the early hours thinking of all possible scenarios: maybe Emma had clung to him, shrieking, unable to cope with him leaving. My stomach dropped. Did that mean he’d feel he could never leave? Maybe he’d had an accident on his way home. I’d checked and checked the local news and travel sites on my phone and there was nothing reported, but then there was only usually a report when a road was blocked or there’d been a fatal accident. Because of his business he was well-known enough in the local community for anything like that to be reported. I breathed a sigh of relief; at least there was nothing about that online.
And then another fear hit me. Maybe he’d had a heart attack. He was forty-one. Surely that wasn’t a dangerous age? Had the stress been too much? But he seemed healthy enough, an advertisement for his own products, and he hadn’t seemed stressed when I left work the evening before. He was nervous, of course, but he was happy. Vibrant. He was about to have a final meeting with Jane, Emma’s sister, who was working for Sheridan’s as their chief accountant. Jane was leaving work that weekend to go back to university to study