Undertaking Love Page 0,66

in Emily’s familiar round handwriting.

Today was the as good a day as any. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and opened the letter.

Dear Tom,

I’m so sorry that I’m not brave enough to do this face to face, but we seem to have lost the ability to talk to each other these days anyway, so maybe it’s for the best. I miss that so much. Talking, I mean. I miss you so much – even when you’re home, its like we’re strangers living under the same roof.

I’ve done something terrible, Tom, and it’s ripping me apart. I don’t even want to write it down because I know how much reading it will hurt you, but I have to because you deserve to know the truth.

I’ve slept with someone else. It was just once, and he means nothing to me, honestly, he doesn’t. I won’t try to make excuses, and I’m not asking for your forgiveness because I can’t forgive myself. I was just so desperately lonely, and he was kind to me. God, I wish I could wind the clock back and not do it, but life isn’t like that, is it?

I’m so sorry – for this, and for wanting a baby so much that I’ve let it rip our marriage apart. Jesus, Tom, how did it come to this?

You are the love of my life, it wasn’t supposed to end like this. I’m so ashamed of myself, and I won’t blame you if you decide that you can’t be with me anymore.

I’ve broken my own heart as well as yours, I’m sorry to the ends of the earth and back.

Love always,

Emily

x

Chapter Twenty-Seven

‘Rupert, we need to talk.’

Hmm. Too clichéd.

‘Rupert, did you lie to me about the fireworks on July Fourth?’

Bad idea. Too confrontational.

‘Rupert. I don’t want to marry you.’

Too honest. Too true.

As she waited for Rupert to arrive at the chapel to take her to lunch, Marla ran through several other possible ways to open the conversation. Her stomach had been churning with nerves and questions had been buzzing around inside her head since she’d left Emily and Jonny in the pub last night.

The crunch of tyres on the gravel ratcheted her nerves up another notch, and she peeped out of the window just in time to see Rupert climb out of his sports car and cast a furtive look over towards the funeral parlour. As she watched, Melanie opened the door and gave Rupert a smug little wiggly finger wave, and Marla felt her temper rocket from a low simmer to totally furious in two seconds flat.

By the time Rupert waltzed through the chapel doors, she’d backtracked on her plan for a civilised discussion over lunch and decided to just get things over with here and now in the chapel.

‘Hey gorgeous.’ Rupert breezed in and flicked his hair back in that way that was really starting to get on her nerves.

‘Hey yourself,’ Marla said.

Something in her flat tone must have alerted him to incoming thunder clouds, because he dropped his keys on the nearest chair and pulled her into his arms.

‘You okay?’

He frowned as she ended his kiss a nano-second after it started and squirmed out of his embrace.

‘Not really.’

Marla watched his jaw work furiously as he tried to decide how to play things.

‘Bad morning at work?’ he tried.

She shook her head and sighed.

‘It’s not work, Rupert, it’s us.’

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He ran a finger around his neckline to loosen his collar.

‘It’s lunch, isn’t it? You’re too busy. I’ll call and cancel, we can just walk down to the café and grab a sandwich if you like?’

‘It isn’t the lunch arrangements Rupert. It’s us.’

Marla repeated the ‘us’ more firmly this time to stop him from attempting to side step the issue again.

‘Okaaaaay.’ He dragged the word out as if he were trying to reason with a five year old. ‘What about us?’

She detected a note of irritation in his voice and tried not to rise to it.

‘I … I feel as if we’re rushing into things. You know, the wedding and all.’

He nodded slowly.

‘Riiiiight.’

He dragged that word out too, and Marla fought back the urge to slap him.

‘So we’ll slow it down, then. Get married later on. No big deal,’ he said brightly. ‘Grab your jacket, we’ll miss our table.’

Marla sucked in air and looked out of the window for a second before meeting his eyes again.

‘That’s the thing though, Rupert. I don’t want to get married – sooner or later.’

The spoilt