Unfaithful - Natalie Barelli Page 0,23

in Lori right now. Maybe one day, after it had all blown over. I imagine myself in ten years on one of our ski trips in Colorado, sitting side by side on the chair lift, Lori commenting on my wonderful life.

Don’t kid yourself, Lori. There was a time, you know, many years ago, when I thought we might not make it…

Meanwhile, I find myself telling this complete stranger about my marital problems. At least it takes my mind off Alex. In fact, what happened with Alex is beginning to feel like a distant memory. Even the police didn’t seem that troubled by his suicide—this is what I do now: I make myself think of Alex’s suicide as opposed to Alex’s death. Meanwhile, this man listens intently to my woes, standing very close, head slightly bowed in concentration.

“Would you leave him?” he asks, when I finish.

I recoil. “My husband? No! I mean, I’ve fantasized about it sometimes, when he’s annoyed me particularly.”

“But don’t you ever wonder? What it would be like to be with someone else?”

“What would it be like for me? It depends. I mean, I have wondered what it’d be like to be married to someone successful, tangibly so. Someone busy, driven.” I look back at Geoff, who catches my eye and winks at me. Maybe I should have done it that night in Chicago; it sure had never occurred to me that Luis would be the one to stray. Maybe this is my punishment for flirting too much. Then a thought occurs to me, a terrible, stomach-clenching, bile-rising thought: Is Luis planning to leave me?

“No,” I reply finally. “I never considered being with anyone else.”

“Then don’t say anything to your husband. Don’t confront him.”

“Do you think?“

“I do. You don’t have enough information yet. You said so yourself.”

“Are you married?” I ask.

“No. But I was in a long term relationship. I found out she had an affair and I confronted her.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”

“Really. Things got very messy and I asked her to leave. I thought she’d choose me, you see. I thought she’d beg me to take her back. She didn’t. She’s with the other woman now.”

“Oh wow, the other woman?”

“Correct.”

“Good to know the grass isn’t any greener on the other side, then.”

He smiles. “Do you have children?”

“Two. A boy and a girl.”

“Even more reason to keep your mouth shut. If I were in your position, I’d fight for what I have.”

Oh, I’ll fight for what I have. Don’t worry about that.

“Thank you. That’s very wise.” I raise my beer and we clink.

We’re leaning back, saying deep things about life, our hands cupped on the edge of the table behind us. I feel his little finger inch closer to mine and it sends a strange shiver down my spine. He doesn’t move his hand away, and neither do I.

“And when you do find out who it is,” he says, “you could boil her in a cauldron full of bats. That’s what we do where I come from.”

I snap my head around. “Where do you come from?” He does have the most beautiful eyes, green with specks of gold, and they’re nicely offset by his dark hair.

“Ireland. I’ve never lived there, I was born here, but my grandmother tells me these stories. I should have done it to my ex.”

My mind is too frazzled to compute that and I stare at him, vaguely wondering where I could get bats.

He bursts out laughing. “I was joking.” Then he adds, “We don’t use bats. We’re not savages.”

I chuckle, and my gaze falls to his chest. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and I get a glimpse of black, coarse hair. I wonder what it would feel like, to touch someone other than Luis. Then I wonder if he thinks about me when he touches his floozy, and whether she has nice breasts. I bet she does. I bet they’re perky and pert. Like mine used to be before I had his kids.

The Irishman reaches behind him and lifts a bottle of Prosecco. “Come with me.” I do as I’m told and when we reach the corridor he takes my hand and leads me around a corner and into an empty office. I reach blindly for the light switch that I assume is near the door but he cups my hand and whispers, “No, don’t.”

My skin feels tingly and I shudder. His tongue is on my lips, slow and soft like velvet. I’m about to argue, apologize if