could see why.
Yet he hadn’t mentioned a word about it to Emily.
He had no need to.
Her letter had only confirmed what he knew. It had forced him to face the unpalatable truth. He’d pushed her away, and his careless neglect had driven her to places she should never have needed to go.
Her infidelity didn’t change a thing. He could only thank his lucky stars that, in the end, she’d chosen him.
‘I don’t deserve you, Tom.’
Emily placed her fork down next to her barely touched dinner.
‘Don’t be stupid, Em. I’m the lucky one.’
He reached for the water jug and filled their glasses. He hadn’t drunk in the house for months out of solidarity.
‘Come on. Eat your dinner before it gets cold.’
Emily tried a little more, lacklustre and troubled. Her fork clattered down again a few seconds later.
‘Tom. I can’t do this.’ Her voice wavered. ‘We need to talk. ‘
Shit. Back up Emily, please back up. I don’t want to do this.
‘Just eat your dinner. Em, I went halfway to Italy for those mushrooms.’
He joked to lighten her mood, his stomach full of foreboding.
‘That’s just it, Tom. You’re so kind, and lovely, and thoughtful, and me … I’m …’
Her fingers shook around the stem of her glass as she floundered for words to describe herself.
‘Don’t do this, Emily.’
The bleak defeat in her eyes terrified him.
‘Tom …’
He pushed his chair back. A scream of wood against stone.
‘Don’t say another word, Emily. Just wait one minute, okay?’
He took the stairs two at a time, high on adrenalin and fear.
Twenty seconds later he was back in the kitchen, the green letter in his hand.
Emily’s face crumpled as he held it up for her to see, a magician flourishing his cards to his audience.
He crossed to the cooker and lit the nearest gas ring.
She stood, trembled, but he held up a warning hand to still her and shook his head.
The flames caught the corner of the note, licked up the page towards his fingers until he couldn’t hold it any longer. He dropped it into the sink and turned the tap on full, then scooped out the mush of paper and hurled it on the floor.
Stamped on it.
Again. And again. And again.
He was unaware of the tears on his face until Emily’s tentative fingers touched his cheek. He was unaware of his own roar of anguish until he registered her gentle shush.
‘It’s gone,’ he said, finally. ‘It’s history.’
She nodded, her hand still on his cheek.
‘There’s nothing to gain by raking over the coals.’ He covered her hand with his own larger one. ‘We’re still standing. It’s all that matters.’
He laid his other hand on her belly. ‘You, me, and the baby.’
He was careful not to say our baby.
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘Morning, my gorgeous girlfriends!’
Jonny shimmied back into the chapel after a last-minute weekend in Mykonos, freshly bronzed with a bottle of Ouzo in his hand and undeniable glint in his eye. It died as soon as he caught sight of Marla and Emily’s coordinated miserable expressions.
‘Shall I go out and come back in again?’
He cast a wistful glance back towards the doorway.
‘You can if you like, but it won’t make any difference.’ Emily shrugged. ‘Coffee?’
Jonny put the Ouzo down and stared from Marla to Emily.
‘Who died?’
Emily pushed the Sunday Herald across the table, and his frown turned to a grin as he scanned the headlines.
‘Well, well, well!’ He let out a low whistle and laughed. ‘Who’s been a naughty undertaker, then?’ He skim read the rest and then looked up nonplussed. ‘Why the long faces? This is good news for us, surely?’
Emily placed a steaming mug down in front of him.
‘Except that everyone is going to think it’s part of our supposed hate campaign.’
‘So what?’ Jonny shrugged. ‘We’re completely innocent this time around, and by the looks of it, old Gabriel certainly isn’t.’ He winked and looked back at the paper with something akin to admiration. ‘I didn’t think he had it in him.’
Shame slapped Marla’s cheeks scarlet as she turned away on the pretense of loading the dishwasher. Seconds before Jonny had walked in, she’d almost confided in Emily about her weekend with Gabe. Wow, she was glad now of the timely interruption. At least if no one else knew she’d been so weak, then she could try to forget it ever happened. Gabriel had better keep his mouth shut.
Oh God. Gabriel’s mouth.
Marla knew she was in real trouble, because the thought of the things he’d done to her with his mouth on Saturday still made her