Where the Stars Fall

30 | When bubbles burst

"NICE JOB, ARSEHOLE! That was very, very clever!"

Friday morning and Jake is leaned against my office window, casting a vacant look outside, emotionless, as if numb with disbelief. "I screwed up big time, didn't I?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm on Claire's side here. In fairness, what were you expecting? What would you do in her position?"

Last night, his take-no-crap wife kicked him out of his own house and, heck no, the state he's in isn't a pretty thing to see.

"I know... But damn it, it's not like I planned this! One moment I'm drunk and kissing some other woman, then the next thing I know I'm having the most mind-blowing sex I've ever had! She's blown me away completely. And then the situation got so completely out of hand and–"

"And before you knew it, you'd walked into some very deep shit." I doubt that he needs my judgment face, but he's getting it. "Unprotected sex? What are you, fucking crazy?" Clicking my tongue, I focus on my laptop screen, scrolling down my email inbox.

"Oh, sod off! Don't tell me you've never got so carried away you ended up doing it anyway!"

I'd be lying if I said I haven't. "Sure. But there was more than just sex involved. It might surprise you, but I'm not that stupid!"

"Can I crash on your sofa for a few days? That selfish, mean-spirited, manipulative cow doesn't want me around either and I don't know where to go now."

He means Patricia, his pregnant mistress.

Long ​story ​short: mistress gets fed up with the secrecy, corners him and forces him to choose. Either he gives her 100% or nothing at all. The affair fantasy bubble bursts, he chooses the latter and tells her it was all a mistake, that he loves his wife. He takes said wife on a getaway and tries to block out guilt.

A few days later a massive amount of shit hits the fan in the most terrifying way: mistress texts 'You're a fucking prick, I hate you. Never show up again, we don't need you.' along with an even more catastrophic attachment: a picture of a positive pregnancy test.

Every guy's worst nightmare come true, God forbid.

Because there isn't really any possible escape route, he comes clean with wife and breaks the news about the baby on the way. And then life kicks him hard in the bollocks: marriage is over.

Oh-shit, he thinks he might as well run back to mistress before he ends up alone. That's when all goes definitely down into hell: mistress tells him to shove his apologies and kicks him out too.

Proverbial end result: he loses both, ends up sleeping in the office and now looks like he was run over by a freight train.

"All right, mate. But you only have a few days to get your shit together. When Olivia comes over, I want you out."

"Damn! She told me it'd be okay, that she was in her safe period."

"Contraceptive maths has never been a very exact science."

He continues to stare blankly out of the window, distraught, clearly unable to function properly this morning.

"What am I going to do now?" he asks me with a rough voice, for the hundredth time.

My mobile rattles on the table. It's Olivia and I finally have a reason to smile. I needed to listen to her voice; it's the only thing that could brighten up this so-far shitty morning.

"Don't know. How about trying to get your head screwed on straight and do some work?" I suggest, though I don't think he gets the hint.

I take another look at him. Slumped shoulders, sunken eyes and deathly pale face, and an overall life-can't-possibly-get-any-worse expression. He does look terrible, an absolute wreck.