LITMIR.BIZ

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she’d worn the last time they’d seen her.

      Jack’s stomach rolled as it twisted up his nose.

      ‘Jack, darling! How lovely to see you again!’ Perdita shot him a quick smile before striding around the room, glancing around at the décor that Emma had so painstakingly instated.

      ‘What a wonderful room! The lighting is perfect for taking some photos of the two of you in here. What do you think, David?’

      David, the photographer, nodded his agreement, then carelessly dumped his camera bag and laptop onto the polished cherry-wood coffee table.

      Jack saw Emma wince in his peripheral vision, but she didn’t utter a word of reproach. Perhaps she thought she had no right to because this wasn’t her house. The thought frustrated him, making his limbs twitchy and his head throb.

      ‘It’s good for me,’ David said, nodding at a light metre he was now holding up. ‘I’ll get set up while you do the interview, Perdie.’

      ‘Okey-dokey,’ Perdita trilled, turning to Jack with a simpering smile, then looking towards where Emma still stood in the doorway. ‘Let’s get started, shall we?’

      They all sat down, he and Emma on the sofa next to each other and Perdita in the armchair opposite.

      As Jack sat back his leg pressed up against Emma’s and he bristled as she shifted away from his touch. Perdita was never going to believe they were a happily married couple if it looked as if she couldn’t even stand to sit next to him.

      What was going on? Had he done or said something last night that had upset her? If he had, he had no idea what it could have been.

      He took a breath and slung his arm around her shoulders. She tensed a little under his touch, but at least she didn’t move away this time.

      Looking over at Perdita, he steeled himself for spending the next half an hour—that was all he was going to give her—fielding her impertinent questions about his and Emma’s life together, while also trying to make their relationship sound real and exciting enough to titillate the readers of Babbler magazine.

      ‘So, how are the plans for the renewal of your wedding vows going?’ Perdita purred, after she’d set up her phone to record their conversation.

      ‘Er...well, we’re still talking about when and how we’re going to do it—’ Emma said quickly, her smile looking fixed and her eyes overly bright when he glanced round at her.

      ‘Uh-huh,’ Perdita intoned, looking between the two of them with a quizzical little pinch in her forehead.

      ‘We’re hoping it’ll be some time in the new year. We’ll let you know when we’ve made some firm plans,’ Jack said brusquely, in an attempt to close that line of questioning down as quickly as possible. Emma shuffled in her seat beside him.

      Luckily Perdita didn’t press them on it.

      ‘So are you planning on spending Christmas here? I see you already have your decorations up,’ Perdita said brightly, sweeping her hands around to gesture at the strings of silver baubles that Emma had hung from the picture rails and the spicy scented Douglas fir she’d covered with tasteful vintage Victorian ornaments.

      ‘Yes, I think we’ll be here for Christmas this year,’ Jack replied, glancing around him at the decorations. They lent the room such a cosy festive air, so much so he found he was actually enjoying sitting in his living room for once, despite having to answer Perdita’s inane questions.

      ‘It must be so lovely to have a family home again to spend Christmas Day in, Emma. I understand you had to sell the house you grew up in after your poor father passed on,’ Perdita cooed, raising her brow in a shocking show of pseudo sympathy.

      ‘That’s right, Perdita, we did,’ Emma answered, keeping her chin up and her gaze locked with the woman’s though Jack was aware of her shoulders tensing ever so slightly. ‘And yes, it’ll be a lovely house to spend Christmas in.’

      He was desperate to call a halt to this ridiculous debacle, but he didn’t want to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing him riled.

      ‘You know, Perdita, Emma did all the interior design in the house,’ he said, leaning in to draw the journalist’s unscrupulous attention away from his wife.

      Perdita glanced around at him, quickly hiding a flash of irritation that he’d foiled her underhand pursuit of some juicy gossip with which to titillate her readers. ‘Is that right?’

      ‘Yes. She has a real talent for it, my wife. I’m incredibly proud of her. In fact, why don’t you mention to your readers that she’s available for consultation if they’re looking for an interior designer? I can give them a personal guarantee that they’ll be delighted with Emma’s talent for making a house into a home.’

      He picked up Emma’s hand from her lap, giving it a reassuring squeeze. After a second’s pause she gave him a squeeze back.

      There was definitely something very wrong here. Was she feeling ill? Too tired from their night of passion to think straight? Just sick to death of being hounded for answers to questions that brought up painful memories from her past?

      Perdita continued to fire tricky questions at them: about how they fell in love, how they came to be reconciled, what their plans were for their future together and even though Emma fielded the questions well with vague but upbeat answers he imagined he could feel her slipping further and further away from him with every second that passed.

      By the time the interview finally concluded he was desperate to get Perdita out of the house so that he and Emma could talk again in private.

      But unfortunately the journalist had other ideas.

      ‘Well, I’ve got everything I need for the article. We just need to get some lovely snaps of the two of you together in this beautiful living room. You’ve done such a wonderful job on the décor, Emma. It’ll make a lovely backdrop.’

      She stood up from the armchair that she’d been perched on and Jack and Emma stood up awkwardly too.

      Judging by the look on Emma’s face, Jack was pretty sure she was as desperate for this to be over as he was.

      ‘Are you ready for us, David?’ Perdita called out to her photographer.

      ‘As I’ll ever be, Perdie,’ David replied, shooting them all a wink.

      They allowed Perdita to manhandle them into a ‘loving’ clinch on the sofa by the window, and Jack’s spirits sank even lower as he felt Emma tense as he wrapped his arms around her.

      ‘Okay, let’s have a lovely kiss now, shall we?’ Perdita purred, giving them a lascivious smile.

      To his horror, he realised Emma was actually vibrating with tension now and when he turned his head to look at her, his gut twisted as he saw only a cool remoteness in her eyes.

      Leaning forwards, he pressed his lips to hers, hoping he could somehow wake the Emma from last night, to remind her how good it had been between them, and how good it could be again, if only she’d let him back in.

      Her mouth was cool and pliant beneath his, but he could feel the reluctance in her, taste it on her lips, sense it in the raggedness of her breathing—as if she was only tolerating his touch until she could get away from him without looking bad in front of Perdita.

      The rejection tugged hard at him, causing pain in his chest as if she’d torn something loose inside him.

      ‘Wonderful!’ Perdita said, as they drew apart.

      ‘Is that it?’ Jack asked gruffly, at the very end of his patience with the woman now. He wanted her and her nauseating presence out of his house so he could be on his own with Emma again and finally be able to find out what was going on with her.

      ‘We’re done,’ Perdita said, all businesslike now as David gathered up his equipment behind her.

      ‘I’ll

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