I gave the wrong impression, but then I think of Luis and I part my lips slightly. He undoes the buttons of my shirt and slips his hands behind my back, unhooks the clasp of my bra.
“Take it off,” he whispers.
I’m shaking. I slip my arms out of my sleeves and let my shirt and bra fall to the floor. He has pulled his own shirt off and we stand against each other, my breasts against his chest, then we are on the floor and his mouth is on mine and his hand slides under the belt of my skirt.
“Wait!”
“You okay?” he asks.
“Give me a moment.” I fling my arm over my eyes and feel him pull away.
What on earth am I doing? My head is spinning and a flash of light bursts behind my eyelids. What’s that sound? A digital shutter. Photo?
I open my eyes quickly and sit up. In the dim light I see him smiling at me, his phone in his hand. I spring upright and reach for it, panic making my voice shrill. “Did you just take a photo of me?” But before he answers there’s a movement behind the door, and a shadow interrupts the sliver of light beneath it. I put one finger on my lips to indicate we should be quiet. I hold my breath, then I’m sure I see the doorknob turn slowly, even though it’s dark.
I scramble for my shirt and bra. Irishman is giggling. “Shut up!” I hiss. I throw his shirt at him. “Get dressed.” My heart is thumping in my ears. I will whoever it is to go away as I manage to hook my bra back on and put my shirt back on. There’s silence on the other side and I picture someone listening, one hand cupped around their ear against the door.
Finally the shadow moves away and I bow my head in relief as I get my breath back.
“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper, suddenly furious with this man for having put me in this position. I open the door an inch, check that the coast is clear.
He puts his hand on my arm. “Wait.”
I shrug him off. “I have to go.” I march down the hall, back to the party. A few stragglers are convened in the corner near the cheese board. Geoff is nowhere to be seen. I snatch my bag that is still hanging off the back of a chair and leave quickly, almost running to the car park.
Only then do I remember the photograph he took. I’d meant to get him to delete it immediately, but in that moment of almost getting caught out, I forgot. I start the car, and I see him as I drive out. He is standing on the sidewalk, his arms out wide in disbelief. I want to stop, to get him to delete the photo, but the traffic is moving and it’s too late.
I bite my lip so hard it bleeds as my stomach clenches into tight knots the whole way home. When I get back I turn off the ignition and sit in the dark with my forehead against the steering wheel. I can’t believe what I did back there. What was I thinking? That being unfaithful was going to help me get my husband back? I don’t give a shit about the promotion. Not when my marriage is at stake. My family is the most important thing to me and to think I would risk it so foolishly makes me hit my head with a closed fist—like that’s going to put some sense back into me.
I lean back against the seat. It’s okay. It’s not the end of the world. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Tomorrow, I will go and see him and ask him to delete the photo. Then I will concentrate my energy on my family. Maybe if I can figure out who Luis is having an affair with, I can warn her off. It’s just a fling, surely. Luis loves me, I know he does. And he is the most devoted father, and the most devoted husband.
Isn’t he?
Eleven
The following morning I walk straight into the Law building, through the tiled entrance, down the corridor and upstairs to the office where I was the night before. I am determined. I tell myself I have every right to demand he delete that photo. I am desperately trying to work out what I’ll do if he refuses.