Lauren pulls Jess into her, hugging her tight. ‘I’m so pleased I’ve got you,’ she says, her eyes shining.
‘And I’m pleased I’ve got you,’ says Jess.
‘Ring me if you need me,’ calls out Lauren as she gets in the car.
‘Will do,’ smiles Jess. ‘Have a good time.’
Lauren watches the front door close with conflicted emotions. How had she deemed it necessary to safeguard her laptop by bringing it with her, whilst leaving the children – her most treasured possessions – there?
She shudders involuntarily as she pulls away, still thinking about Kate and how they might possibly begin to repair their fractured relationship. If she ever finds out about what she’s doing now, she’ll never be forgiven. There’s no love lost between her husband and her sister, but Kate believes in the sanctity of marriage, and is happy to call out anyone who dares to cross the holy line. You only have to look at the headlines attached to her byline every day to know that she doesn’t suffer cheaters gladly.
‘But I’m not going to cheat,’ says Lauren to herself, as she pulls up in a road parallel to where Justin lives.
You’ll not be able to park in Butler’s Wharf itself, so just get as close to it as you can and walk the rest, Justin’s last text had read. Lauren chooses not to recall his sign-off: I can’t wait to see you x
Her heels don’t lend themselves to the cobbled passageways of Shad Thames and she almost loses her footing as she passes under the arches of the old spice mills. She stops momentarily to lean on a wall, though she’s not sure if it’s a bid to slow down her feet or her heart. By the time she reaches Justin’s door, with its twenty or so shiny intercom buttons, her mouth is dry and she’s wishing she hadn’t come. No part of this seems like a good idea right now. Her finger shakes as she trails the numbers, looking for number twelve.
‘Hi, it’s me,’ she says.
‘Come on up,’ says Justin. ‘It’s the top floor.’
Okay, so you just knock on his door, she says to herself as the lift travels up. And you say, ‘It was lovely to bump into you again, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to see each other anymore.’
She smooths down the front of her jumpsuit and swallows the lump in her throat. Got it? she asks herself, just to double-check. Got it, comes the convincing reply.
‘Hi,’ says Justin as the lift doors open, and her legs immediately turn to jelly. His dancing eyes meet hers and the jolt sends a quiver through her. He brushes her cheek lightly with a kiss and her knees threaten to give way, reminding her how it’s supposed to feel when you’re with someone you want to be with. The last time she’d felt like this was with . . . well, Justin. God, this is going to be harder than she thought.
‘Hi, listen,’ she says, aware of his hands lingering on her waist. ‘I should have called, but I thought I owed you the respect of coming here and . . .’
His lips are on hers and his hands are entwined in her hair before she can even finish the sentence. He kisses her softly, as if testing the waters. She desperately wants him to continue, but her brain is screaming at her to stop this whilst she can. But how can she when she doesn’t want to? She bites down on his lip, playing for time. ‘I need to tell you something,’ she whispers.
He pulls back to look at her, concern etched on his face. ‘Okay,’ he says, taking her by the hand and walking her towards the open door of his apartment. Her legs don’t feel like her own, and her chest is heavy, but strangely light at the same time, as if there are a hundred butterflies preparing to take flight.
‘Oh my goodness,’ she exclaims as she walks into the vast open-plan living area, with floor-to-ceiling windows perfectly framing Tower Bridge. It’s so close that she can see the expression on pedestrians faces as they cross it. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Wait until the lights come on,’ says Justin.
‘Look . . .’ she starts, knowing that every second she drags this out will just make it harder. She turns around, to where he’s holding out a chair at a perfectly laid table for two. This isn’t what she wanted. It’s exactly what you wanted, says another voice in her head.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you,’ says Justin. ‘But why don’t we sit down and talk? You’ve clearly got something on your mind and I’m all ears. Just as soon as I get the dinner out of the oven.’
Lauren smiles, grateful to him for injecting some much-needed humour into the situation, but hating him for it at the same time because it makes her love him all the more.
She watches as he pours her a glass of red. ‘Or would you prefer white?’ he asks halfway through. ‘I assume you’re driving?’
She nods. ‘Red’s fine – just the one though.’
He fills the glass and, with a flourish of a tea towel, retreats into the adjoining kitchen. Lauren smiles after him. ‘So do you own this place?’ she calls out as she takes a sip. It would be polite to wait, but she needs all the Dutch courage she can get.
‘No, I’m just renting at the moment,’ he says, before adding, ‘Shit!’
‘You okay?’ Lauren asks. ‘Do you need any help?’
‘Just dropped a potato on the floor, but it’s yours so it’s okay.’
Lauren laughs.
‘So, yeah, I’m just renting it until I sort out what I’m doing. I’ve only been back a few months and this suits me for now, but going forward, what with the kids and all . . .’
Lauren breathes in sharply, waiting for him to carry on, not sure that she wants to hear what he’s going to say.
‘I’m hoping that they’ll want to spend some
