The Vow - Debbie Howells Page 0,47

Lucinda Mills. It’s a high-profile, high-stakes divorce case, where she left him but still wants to take him for everything he has. With whisperings of domestic abuse that he obviously denies, it isn’t straightforward. A long afternoon lies ahead. Taking a deep breath, I get up. I’m ready as I’ll ever be.

*

It’s a gruelling three hours later that I come out of the meeting. Back in my office, I ask my assistant to hold my calls, then slip off my shoes and walk over to the window. In the street below, life goes on as it always does, regardless, as I think of Matt’s unresolved disappearance.

At my desk, I check my emails, then sit back, thinking of how many times I’ve sat here, exactly like this, checking for missed calls on my phone, waiting to hear from Matt. Hating feeling so powerless, but telling myself that until he was free of Amy’s clutches, this was how it had to be. I knew he loved me; that I had a choice. I could either leave him or let things run their course between him and Amy. I hadn’t let myself dwell on it, until that morning came when I absolutely knew something was wrong.

*

When Matt and I first met three months ago, I’d no idea he was living with anyone. I was in a Brighton bar just off the seafront, catching up on case notes over a gin and tonic, when I noticed him. He was good looking, but what impressed me more was his air of confidence as he walked in. He was with a man, who I assumed was a client. The body language gave them away. Every so often, I became aware of his eyes glancing towards me.

An hour later, after the client left, he came over. ‘You look like you could do with a break.’ He nodded towards my laptop.

‘You know how it is. New job …’ I decided to show off. ‘I’m a partner with Hollis and James. And it’s a man’s world out there.’ Then I paused, because that was unfair. ‘Actually, they’re not too bad in that respect.’

Vague amusement registered in his eyes. ‘Can I get you another drink?’

I hesitated, my eyes flickering to his left hand, noting an absence of a wedding ring, then at my almost empty glass. ‘Why not?’

While he went to the bar, I finished what I was writing, then put my laptop away just as he came back carrying two glasses. I remember him holding out his hand. ‘Matthew Roche.’

‘Fiona.’ He’d need to do more than buy me a drink if he wanted to know any more about me.

His eyes were steady as he took my hand in his and I’d felt electricity spark. Racking my brains, I tried to think if we’d met before. As we talked, it became evident how eerily similar we were. Both of us were ambitious, wanting to create a comfortable life, but we’d both known adversity and broken away from unsupportive families. Matt had hinted at his, but about mine, I’d remained silent.

‘So, Matthew Roche. Are you married?’

‘No.’ But he said it too quickly. ‘And it’s Matt, by the way.’

‘Single? Attached?’ I watched his demeanour change, as he seemed to close up.

Then he sighed. ‘It’s complicated.’

Folding my arms, I sat back. ‘Right.’ Then I got up. ‘Thanks for the drink. But I don’t do complicated, I’m afraid.’ It was one of my rules. Single men only. Life was too short, time too stretched, for anything else.

‘Please don’t go.’ His eyes blazed into mine. ‘Hear me out. I want …’ He sighed. ‘I really want to talk to you.’

I knew I should be walking away, but something struck a chord with me and pulled me back towards him. There was an honesty in his gaze, my gut instinct telling me Matt wasn’t a selfish, conniving man – over the years, I’d met enough of them.

‘OK.’ Slowly, I sat down again. ‘Tell me.’

So he did, about the woman he was involved with, who he was marrying in three months. How he was only beginning to realise he’d made a mistake.

I still couldn’t be sure he wasn’t spinning me a line. ‘What are you going to do?’

He looked miserable. ‘I have to tell her.’ He hesitated again. ‘But it’s not that simple. She has problems.’

‘You still can’t pretend.’ I was shocked. ‘You can’t marry someone just because you’re worried about them. Unless you love her … then of course, that’s completely different. And it means there’s