The Love Affair

Chapter Seventeen

The fantasy that was the ideal world of myself and Shane, unknown to the world and completely detached from commitments soon vanished as reality dropped its suitcases and heaved itself back onto my shoulders.

Nick had no idea. He had been affectionate pulling me into his arms before ushering me upstairs for sex. And then like any other normal couple, we had sat at the kitchen island, quietly sipping our beverages; mine coffee, his tea. Him unaware. Me painfully aware that I had spent two nights away with a man who wasn't the other half to the wedding band tightly gripped around my third finger.

It was three in the afternoon. Another two hours and we would be sat in unison, opposite my parents who will be blissfully oblivious to their daughter's guilt, misery engulfing her. I could already predict the conversation in my head. It would start with my mother's casual address to grandchildren, then Nick's edgy laugh, the one he always adopted whenever he felt under inspection. And then my father would save him, quickly dictating the conversation into a new direction, asking me how my writing is going. I would then lie, smile through my broken reflection telling them that it is going well. Nick then would squeeze my hand, encouragingly. I won't squeeze back. I'll just freeze all over, picturing Shane's. I'll picture our bodies entangled together. And then I'll excuse myself, stand up and head to the toilets needing the refreshment of water splashed against my face before reapplying my lipstick that I would have carelessly smudged on accident.

The thought was actually hysterical of how predictable it seemed to be. I knew there was no way I could dodge my way out of this one. I would have to lie. And it was hurting just thinking about lying to my parents who had fed, clothed and loved me as a curious child unaware that down the line they would cheat on their sweetheart.

I am a cheater. Mom, dad, I'm cheating on my husband. I don't think I'm in love with him anymore. Saying that in my head sounded so strange. As if it wasn't really real. As if it weren't my own voice but some other voice. But I knew that wasn't the case. I knew it was my own voice. I knew that.

Nick knocked the study door. I froze, minimising the word document. Strangely enough, despite the unbearable thought of lying to my parents and persisting to lie to Nick, I wasn't completely side-tracked off from writing. I had written another several paragraphs or so, similarly reflecting my own little getaway with Shane.

"Hey babe," he said, squeezing my shoulders as he stood behind me. "What you up to?"

"Erm, just browsing Amazon," I lied, switching the monitor off, "I was just about to jump in the shower. I'll need to start getting ready for later. And so, will you," I added, standing up.

"Hey, hey, hey," he muttered gently, squeezing his hands onto my shoulders before I had the chance to skip out of the room. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

Nick's nose wrinkled as he pressed his lips together. "I'm just making sure. I know how stressful writing can be. And I know it doesn't help when I'm up and out leaving you. I just want you to know I'm here. That's all."

I bit my inner cheek, swallowing the sudden taste of metallic bitterness surface across my taste buds. "I'm okay, Nick," I lied, cupping my right hand against his right, slightly chubby cheek. "Honestly."

***

Diana Parson, my mother, a natural brunette, now slightly greying and a little shorter than it had been when I was younger, was sat adjacent to my father, Konnor Parson. She was smiling pleasantly as she passed her menu to the waiter.

"So, how's my superstar writer of a daughter doing?" My father piped up, patting his blue polka dotted tie down before resting his shoulders onto the edge of the table.