Dangerous Affection

Chapter Eighteen

Emma

At the end of the day, after battling gridlocked roads due to an accident on Trent Bridge, I walk straight into the kitchen, where Shaun is preparing tea.

‘You’re earlier than I expected. Maize is at your mum’s, so sit down, I’ll pour you a glass of wine.’ He nods to the counter, where the bottle of the full-blooded Rioja we bought in Spain last year sits open and breathing, next to two crystal wine glasses we received as a wedding gift. We’d left one bottle unopened, vowing to drink it when there was reason to celebrate. I’m pretty certain this wasn’t what I had in mind.

‘I’ll just have some water, if that’s OK,’ I say tersely.

As a rule, I try not to drink alcohol and to eat a little more healthily during the week. It isn’t always easy to stick to it and I probably won’t manage it tonight. Judging by the smell emanating from the bubbling pan, Shaun has cooked his signature spaghetti bolognese, and annoyed or not, I’m not about to refuse that.

I sit down in the easy chair near the wall-mounted television. The news is on but thankfully has been muted. From here I have a good view of the garden, and it’s nice not to have the hum of the office in my ears.

We had the extension done two years ago. Before that, the kitchen had been adequate enough but was a long and narrow space with no room for eating. I recall a happy, boozy evening, just the two of us in the lounge with the French doors thrown open, planning the new space we’d use for family living. I loved the idea that the person doing the cooking would easily be able to interact with other family members and guests, rather than be screened off from all the fun.

This was back in the days when we still used to have friends over regularly for a late supper of seafood risotto or Shaun’s legendary spag bol, washed down with copious amounts of wine and followed by thick slices of my home-made lemon drizzle cake with good coffee.

We haven’t done the friends thing for a long time now. Both of us so busy with work and… well, with life itself. And we soon realised that awkward questions from other people were far more easily avoided when we kept ourselves to ourselves.

During the past twelve months, I found myself avoiding the kitchen living space when I could. It was too open, with nowhere to hide when the bristling frustrations crackled like electricity between the two of us. They seemed to gather strength when I spent time in there with him.

But after we made the new arrangement, the animosity seemingly dissolved into thin air, leaving me, finally, with some space to breathe.

Until he started seeing Joanne, when it became apparent that the negative feelings hadn’t really dissolved at all.

Shaun has barely been home in the evenings for the past two weeks. Looking back, I’m now realising that the way he walked around in a daze with a faint smile on his lips, should have made it obvious that he was in love.

At work, Joanne has taken to sending messages about the cases I’m working on through one of the other paralegals. I’ve barely seen anything of her apart from at the dance studio, where she appears briefly to pick up Piper, steering well clear of me.

I shift around, struggling to get comfy despite the soft cushions.

I can feel the old frustrations making a spectacular comeback, nipping at the edges of my thoughts.

‘Forgive me for insisting about the wine.’ He pushes a coaster across the coffee table and places a large glass of Rioja in front of me. I open my mouth to object, but he sits down on the adjacent sofa and speaks first. ‘It’s not a water night, Emma. I think we both need a glass of wine.’