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it. You’re so cagey about your life outside of here.’ He paused. ‘I hope you’re not playing me for a fool, Frey.’ He raised his brows, his face lighting once more. ‘You looked amazing at the department drinks the other night. What did you think of my suit?’ He grinned foppishly.

      ‘I have no opinion of how you looked.’ I dropped my gaze once again to the floor, heat creeping up my neck.

      ‘That’s not true. You told me I looked handsome.’ He scratched his arm. ‘Handsome. I remember you saying it.’

      ‘Then why are you asking me?’ A surge of irritation moved through me.

      ‘Because I want to hear you say it again.’ He paused. ‘Do you know how I felt when you said it?’

      I didn’t respond.

      ‘I felt like the happiest, luckiest guy in the world and I wanted to shout out about our relationship.’

      Tears smarted my eyes. This was not how I had planned this conversation; I had woken this morning certain I needed to end it. In my mind, our relationship had been over. Only, I knew I couldn’t blame Robert alone. My resolve around him, around this man who made me feel more excited and alive than I had done in years, was weak.

      ‘You need to go,’ I tried again. ‘Why would you want to be with me, anyway? I don’t go out, I don’t do the things people of your age do.’ I placed a hand on the filing cabinet, grateful for the cool of the metal. ‘You will find someone who loves you, who’s just like you. I can’t give you any of those things.’ My words settled in the still air. I could hear James, our colleague, in the corridor. ‘There are people around.’ I wasn’t sure if I said this to calm my own jagged nerves or to warn him off.

      ‘I don’t care who’s around.’ He walked calmly to the window, lifted the lever and pushed it open. The fly, barely alive, responded to the rush of air and flew drowsily outside.

      Perspiration clung to my upper lip as I watched him close the window once more. I rubbed the base of my back with my shirt, stopping a trickle of sweat in its tracks.

      ‘Just go, Robert. It’s over,’ I eventually said, in almost a whisper.

      He laughed: hollow, disbelieving. ‘No, it’s not.’ He caught me looking at the tattoo and frowned. ‘You don’t seem to realise what you’ve done. You’ve made me fall in love with you.’

      ‘I haven’t done anything.’ My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a sob. ‘Please. Don’t make this harder than it already is.’

      ‘Tell me you love me.’

      My heart raced, my eyes drawn to the smoothness of his palms. I wanted him in my life; I wanted the love he gave me, I wanted the way he brought my body alive, the way he made me feel like the version of myself I so desperately wanted to be.

      ‘I can’t.’

      ‘Then why do you look at me like that? Even with other people around, I see you looking at me, I can feel your eyes on me.’ His eyes followed my gaze to his hands. ‘Frey, I’m not stupid. Even now, I know you’re thinking about us.’

      Lust surged through me; a wave of goosebumps travelled across my arms and down the length of my back. He moved towards me and placed a hand at the base of my neck, his fingers softly caressing my hairline.

      ‘Please get off,’ I whispered hoarsely, my eyes briefly closing and giving in to his touch. ‘Please.’

      ‘Freya.’ He continued to ply my skin with increasing urgency as he shifted forward once more. ‘You want me. You don’t want this to end.’ He breathed heavily into my ear. ‘Not this, not our chats, not our love for each other.’

      My breathing came hard and fast. ‘Don’t.’ I couldn’t touch him. I knew I couldn’t touch him. ‘Please don’t,’ I said, my voice an urgent whisper as I felt the familiar stirring in the pit of my stomach.

      ‘Freya.’ He brought his lips towards mine and lingered above my mouth, his breath strong – the smell of lager enticingly close. ‘Freya.’ He brushed his lips against mine and I stumbled back towards the desk, my hand knocking the penholder – a gift from my daughter, made at school, years ago – to the ground. I looked desperately at the broken clay shards, then back at him.

      ‘No. No. No,’ I gasped, realising this was exactly why I had to end my affair with Robert. ‘Please go.’

      He didn’t move, his face twisted with hurt.

      ‘Please… go,’ I said again.

      He nodded slightly and moved towards the door. Turning, he looked back at me.

      ‘Freya, I love you. Don’t give up on us now. We could have it all.’ He stopped talking and his eyes appeared to be drinking in the sight of me. ‘I’ve never given up on anything I love before and I’m not going to start now. I admired your work even before I met you in person and now you have become more than just an idol, you’ve become real. You’re a part of me now, Frey. We’re meant to be.’

      He turned the key and then, straightening up, he left. The door remained wide open.

      I waited, my ragged breath echoing in my ears. Hot tears wet my cheeks and I strode to the door, slamming it shut, turning the key once more. I stumbled to the sofa and sat, elbows on my knees, my hands over my face.

      I wanted to tell myself that it would all be fine: that Robert would just walk away, that I would forget how good he made me feel. I couldn’t. Instead, my mind was wracked by an image of his naked body lying on his bed, the smell of sex on his skin and limbs tangled in damp sheets.

1

      October

      I opened the front door slowly, my eyes darting left and right. Right and left. My ears were keen to any sound but, as far as I could tell, Stephen wasn’t at home. He had told me he was away on business. Blood roared in my ears as I tiptoed quietly into my own house, my whole body alive to any sound or sign of my husband or daughter.

      Clearing my throat, I called out, ‘Stephen?’

      No answer.

      ‘Zoe, darling? Are you home?’

      Silence.

      I shut the door quietly and let my laptop bag slip from my shoulder to the floor. I gasped when I saw the lace of the black bra I had been wearing earlier poking out of the top of the bag and quickly shoved it out of view. It made me nauseous with guilt. I was sneaking in like a teenager after a party. At the beginning, if I was being honest, it had felt exciting, but now it felt fraught, making me jumpy and anxious.

      Walking quickly to the kitchen and sitting at the table, I squeezed my eyes shut and wished, as I did whenever I got back home, that the images of Robert would disappear. It made me feel dirty. My feelings for Robert had grown so out of control, and I with it. I leant backwards, feeling around in the drawer for the medication the doctor had prescribed to calm my nerves, swallowed one whole without water, pulling a face at the bitter taste left in my mouth. Pushing the chair away abruptly, I headed upstairs for a shower.

      Turning the shower on to its highest heat, I stripped off my mundane work suit and greying underwear and entered the water. It scalded my skin but I scrubbed hard, trying to rid myself of Robert before Stephen came home. It was wrong, yes, but the problem lay in my inability to give up the happiness Robert had brought me over the past year; I had never believed I would ever feel this good again. Not since Stephen and I first met. Stephen, then, I had thought was the man of my dreams, but it hadn’t taken long for his controlling character to shine through. By which point, I was pregnant with Zoe.

      Robert’s scent rose up with the steam and I allowed myself a moment to inhale deeply and, with it, I could almost feel his hands gently caressing my body. Before long, the water started to turn cold, snapping me out of my daydreaming.

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