Perfect Stranger (23 page)

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Authors: Sofia Grey

BOOK: Perfect Stranger
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17.3 Jenny

I went to grab a coffee and found Marella in the queue. When she suggested we hang out for ten minutes, I couldn’t refuse. I liked my boss and had started thinking of her as a friend. God knew I didn’t have many left.

I realized she asked me a question. “Sorry, I was miles away. What did you say?”

“You seem distracted. Is anything the matter?” Marella was genuinely concerned.

“I was just thinking about a friend of mine. We fell out a while ago, and I miss her.” That was the understatement of the year. Without Kate, I felt abandoned, and I wondered how she must feel. Whatever went wrong with Jordan, it must have been catastrophic.

I had nobody to confide in. I didn’t dare talk to Cade, and I no longer trusted Isobel. Rob was acting stressy again, now the first month’s bills arrived, and I was exhausted, trying to placate him. Was this what my life had become?

Marella sighed over her coffee, and I studied her. Saw the little frown lines on her forehead and the shadows beneath her eyes. I wasn’t the only one not sleeping well.

“Is everything okay? I mean, I know you’re my boss and all, but if you want someone to talk to, I promise it’ll go no further,” I said.

To my horror, a single tear trickled down her cheek, and she hastily scrubbed it away. “Let me ask you a question, Jenny. Would you be upset if Rob was out chasing other women, while you were busy at work?”

“Rob wouldn’t.”

“Ah, that isn’t the point. How would you behave if he did?”

“I guess I’d be angry.”

“How much would you allow? Just looking? Chasing? A brief flirtation? A one-night stand?”

Oh, my God. She knew about Adam and Isobel. Or Adam and Cherise. Or any of the other girls he messed around with.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” I replied slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Because it’s all very well to think you’ll behave a certain way, but when the time comes—
boom
. Principles fly out the window, and sometimes you realize how much you love someone. I mean
really
love them.” She swirled the foam on her latte. “It’s crucifying, to think your partner may have been unfaithful to you.”

“Adam?”

“Oh, Jenny.” She leaned toward me, and more tears shone in her eyes. “I need to tell someone, or I’ll go mad. I feel like I can trust you.”

I nodded. I couldn’t speak.

Marella tinkered with her cup again. “I think—I’m sure—Adam had an affair. There were too many signs. He’s done this before. Before we  moved in together, that is. He promised it would never happen again, but I can’t be sure. Maybe I’m being paranoid. I can’t accuse him, in case I’m wrong. I
have
to believe he’s being honest with me. I have to trust him. I can’t marry him if he can’t be faithful, but I love him so much. Every time we’re apart, I feel suspicious of his every move, and I want to interrogate him. I try not to. He hates me asking what he’s been doing, but I’m so scared it may be true.” She slumped back in her seat.

Fuck. This was awful. What could I say? I tried to sound innocent. “Why do you think he’s having an affair?”

“Like I said, he’s done it before. We had an argument, and he went out with his mates. He came back the next morning and told me he slept with someone else, a girl from his office, but it was a mistake and would never happen again. He said it only happened because he was angry at my nagging.”

“That old tale. Because you upset him, he found someone else. That sucks.”

Marella hung her head. “He swore it was a one off. Said it made him see how much I meant to him. I believed him.”

“And then?”

She shrugged. “Last week, I was home late and found him on the phone. He didn’t hear me come in. He was promising to meet someone for lunch. As soon as he knew I was there, he ended the call.”

“Could it have been work related?”

“It might. But I can’t imagine him telling a client not to wear panties.”

If I admitted to knowing what a jerk he was, she’d want to know why I didn’t say anything sooner. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It sounds like a horrible position to be in. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” She gave me a weak smile. “Sometimes I wish he could be more like your Rob. Now
there’s
a real gentleman. He’s always calling you, and taking you to lunch. So sweet.”

He did that so he could check on my movements every day. If I said I needed to work late, he called my desk phone, to make sure I was there. If I had an off-site meeting, he offered to drop me off and pick me up. It’d gone from sweet to claustrophobic, but if I said anything, he assumed I had something to hide.

At least he’d stopped talking about starting a family, for the moment. With the way our budget was stretched, we both needed to work.

Was I a bad wife for being relieved at that?

17.4 Jordan

For fuck’s sake.
I grabbed the files from my desk and stormed out of the office. Cassie was on the phone when I marched up to her. She held up one finger, but I snatched the handset from her and slammed it onto the cradle.


Jordan
. That was—”

“They can wait. I’m supposed to see Peter Forster about the Devennick contract, so why the hell did you give me the paperwork for the Marshall takeover?” I tossed the offending papers on her desk.

Cassie flushed. This was the third time in as many days that she’d screwed up, and I wasn’t happy. She pursed her lips, reached for the desk diary, and laid it in front of me. “At eleven on Friday, you’re seeing Peter Forster about the Devennick contract. Today,
Thursday
, you have an appointment with Gary Fisher. To review the Marshall papers.” She glowered.

Christ. I rubbed a hand over my eyes. Not a good time to have a hangover. “Sorry, Cass. I thought it was Friday.”

“Wishful thinking. It’s only Thursday.” Even in my feeble state, I saw she was pissed. “Liz?” She beckoned to her assistant. “Can you please pop down to Reception and collect Mr. Fisher? Take him to the boardroom and tell him Jordan has been delayed, then fetch him coffee. Thanks.”

Liz scuttled away, and I tried to refocus my tired brain. “Okay. The boardroom.”

“I’m sorry, Jordan.” Cassie stood and closed the diary with a thump.

“It’s not your fault. You gave me the right papers.”

“Not that. I’m sorry to leave you at short notice, but I’ve had enough.”

Huh? I tried to speak, but she held up her hand. This time I stayed quiet.

“I take pride in my work, Jordan. Until recently, you’ve been a great boss, but now you’re impossible. You find fault with everything I do. Liz is terrified of you.” She softened her voice. “I know you’ve had a rough time the last couple of months, but it’s quite out of order to punish me for it. I quit. I’ll sort out the details with H.R.”

Her words cut through the fog in my head, sobering me faster than a triple espresso. “Cassie, please don’t go. You’re right. I’ve been distracted recently, but I need your help and support more than ever. If you need a break, fine. Take a holiday. Go home early. Whatever. But please don’t walk out on me.” I didn’t have to say
like Kate
, but we both knew that’s what I meant.

She frowned, and I sighed. Did I need to grovel? Maybe. “Please, Cass. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

She glanced down for a moment. “I’ll stay, but if you flare up again, that’s it. No third chances.” Her determined chin and the flash of her eyes reminded me fleetingly of Kate. She gave me a tentative smile. “You owe me a drink at least. Or dinner.”

At last. Something I could fix. “What are you doing after work?”

Cassie stared at me, her eyebrows shooting into her fringe. “You want to go out
tonight
?”

“Why not?”

“Okay.” This time I got a proper smile. “Now are you going to keep your appointment with Gary Fisher?”

“I’m on my way.”

 

* * * *

 

Cassie leaving would have been a disaster. I’d behaved badly, and she’d made me wake up to it. I glanced at my watch, as I ploughed through a pile of reports. I promised her we’d finish at six-thirty, go for a drink, and then dinner somewhere.

In some respects, having Louisa and Marcus living with me was good. They were company. I could be myself and not feel obligated to entertain them, as I might with other visitors. Louisa nagged me to eat healthier food, cut down my drinking, and play squash with Marcus. They seemed to arrange it so I was rarely left alone, although I was at a loss as to what they thought I might do.

The downside was small, but bad enough. Watching them together made me envious, and I made sure they had some privacy. I made a point of working in my study until the early hours most nights. Usually with a whisky and music for company.

I’d started listening to the kind of music Kate liked. It was dumb, but it made me feel connected with her in some tiny way. She said one of her favorite albums was
The Masterplan
by Oasis, and I felt a momentary thrill when I found a copy in the CD player, obviously left behind by accident. It was now in danger of wearing out; I played it so often.

I didn’t have Kate’s new address or a contact number. She’d changed her number, as I found out when I tried to call her late one night.

I had to forget her and move on. It was just so damned hard. Tonight though, my evening plans included something other than listening to Oasis and thinking about Kate.

I stacked the paperwork neatly and went to find Cassie. “Ready?”

She looked up and smiled. She looked different somehow, and I tried not to stare. Her hair, usually tied back neatly, now fell to her shoulders in coppery waves. I’d swear she wasn’t wearing this clingy top this morning.

She was so easy to talk to. She kept the conversation flowing with ease and regaled me with amusing stories about the staff at TM-Tech. She seemed at ease, and for the first time in months, I relaxed. We shared a bottle of wine with dinner, and at some point the conversation moved to ten-pin bowling. Cassie used to belong to a ladies’ league and admitted she hadn’t bowled in years. I suggested we go bowling another night, and before I realized it, we’d made a date.

18.1 Kate

The summer faded into autumn. I’d lived at Rhosneigr for two months. In some ways, it felt like a couple of weeks. In others, as though I’d been there forever. It was easy to lose track of time.

I sat on the rickety garden bench and gazed up at the darkening sky, watching the starlings swoop together as they prepared to go to roost.

And there was another painful reminder of Jordan.

That first night in the hotel, I’d thought the delegates leaving the conference to be like a flock of starlings. I allowed myself to remember that night. Dancing with him. Talking and laughing over dinner. How kind he was when I cried all over him. And the sex…
God.
I squirmed, thinking about it.

Right. That was my lot for today. A self-help book I read recently suggested I think of him twice every day, and that was all. If he crossed my mind at any other time, I had to push past it. The theory was sound, but it was hard in practice.

Harder though, was to forget what could have been our baby. I cupped my flat stomach and imagined how it would look now. Slightly rounded. Not really showing yet. I should be worried about looking fat. I
should
have a husband and a career.

Instead, I had a huge, empty house. It mirrored my life.

What a bloody mess.

The first weeks here, I’d hardly left the house. I was scared of seeing pregnant women, worried I’d start crying in a public place and be unable to stop. I didn’t pretend to understand myself. I hadn’t even
wanted
a child, and my first reaction to being pregnant was horror. Funny how that changed. Now I felt like a failure. My doctor assured me could try for another baby when I was ready , but that was never going to happen. Not with Jordan. And I couldn’t imagine ever loving someone else as much.

At least I wasn’t living alone. Billy was good company. The brush of soft fur against my leg alerted me to his arrival, and I reached down to stroke him. The day I moved in, weary and tearful and utterly broken, I found a small black cat in the kitchen. Painfully thin, he hissed at me and ran off, but came back later, to steal the sandwich I didn’t eat. In exchange for food, he now kept the mice at bay. He liked to cuddle, too, and had started curling up next to me in bed. His loud purr soothed me to sleep most nights.

I examined my hands in the twilight. Grubby and calloused, they were in need of soaking in hand cream tonight, but I should feel proud of myself. I’d finishing retiling the bathroom. By myself. I’d made a pretty, if haphazard, mosaic with tiny azure-blue tiles on a white background. I loved it. And I’d worked myself into a state of exhaustion.

Sophie sent me a long and chatty email today, saying how she missed me and asking if I’d like to go to London to stay with them. That was an immediate
no
. I’d rather they came here, but I only had one usable bedroom at the moment. The house had been in a worse state of repair than I expected, and I was renovating one room at a time. I could strip and redecorate the second bedroom in time. It wasn’t as though I had anything else to do.

I was grateful for Gran’s inheritance. Not only the house, but a small lump sum that would keep me going another six months or so if I was frugal. It meant I didn’t have to go back to work yet. Any kind of work. Would I go back to IT sales? A few months ago, it was my sole focus, but now I didn’t know.

How was Jenny these days? The only person to have my new phone number was Sophie, and she promised not to share it. Not with my old friends, and especially not with Jordan. If I spoke to him, I’d probably say something stupid. Something along the lines of
I miss you.

Sophie had taken great pains to defend him. He wouldn’t have known the details of the Micro-Tel-Inc restructure, let alone be a party to it. TM-Tech was a huge company, and he couldn’t be across every deal that went through. It was plausible. I preferred to be mad at him, though, otherwise I really did miss him. If it was impossible to maintain a relationship with three hundred miles between us, the gulf now was worse.

How did he deal with my miscarriage? Had it come as a relief? He only married me out of a sense of obligation. If I hadn’t been pregnant, we might not be together now anyway.

I fussed over Billy some more. It was going to be another sleepless night.

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