With shaking hands, Cassie put the incriminating objects back in the cubbyhole and hid the unused pregnancy test in her suitcase.
She made supper for the children and even managed to eat a few bites herself. She felt far too emotionally drained for cheery conversation, but in any case, the mood at the table seemed somber. Madison didn’t speak a word and Dylan paged through a cycling magazine while he ate.
Staring at the opposite wall, Cassie put the finishing touches to her exit strategy.
Both the children possessed damaging information about what had happened and they could reveal it at any time. Madison would do so innocently, but if Dylan said anything, it would be deliberate.
Let them drop the bombshells when she was safely out of here. It might even occur while they were enjoying a lively discussion about current events over the dinner table, and Ryan could lie to his heart’s content as he tried to wriggle out of it.
As the evening drew on, Cassie started to wonder if they had booked at the wine farm for another night and hadn’t bothered to tell her.
She even wondered briefly if they’d had an accident on the way home.
After their hour of television she put the children to bed and packed the last of her belongings away. It gave her a bitter satisfaction to see her shelves totally clear.
“Screw you, Ryan,” she whispered as she zipped up her suitcase.
As the minutes ticked by, Cassie realized in frustration that she was going to be stuck here for the night, because it would be too late to book in at one of the nearby guesthouses. Her plan had been to leave immediately, but that wouldn’t be possible now.
It was close to ten p.m. when she heard the front door burst open.
With a babble of laughter, Trish and Ryan entered the house.
“You are so, so, so bad,” she heard Trish giggle. “Was it really necessary to stop at our pub? A bottle of champagne, yes, well and good, but the brandies? Whose idea was that?”
She giggled loudly and hiccupped. She sounded very drunk.
“The champagne was my idea, the cognac was yours. Come on, my lovely, time to get you into bed now.”
Ryan didn’t sound entirely sober himself.
Cassie opened her door and stepped out into the corridor.
There they were. Ryan had their bags in one hand, and was holding Trish’s hand in his other. She was leaning on him and laughing.
“Hello there, Cassie. You still up? Everything good here? Kiddies all in bed?” Ryan said.
“Everything’s fine.”
She stared at Ryan as they passed, wondering if he had any idea how much she hated him.
He’d destroyed her emotionally, but would walk away from this debacle squeaky clean. He’d carry on with his privileged life, and his perfect family, his beautiful house and expensive cars, doing what he wanted, screwing who he wanted. Smoothing his way with lies, with no heed for the devastation he caused.
In that moment, Cassie changed her mind. She wasn’t going to walk out. Before she left in the morning, she would have her say to both of them. She wordlessly reentered her room.
A few minutes later, a tap on her door made her jump.
“Hello, beautiful,” Ryan whispered.
Cassie stared at him, incredulous.
How could he possibly be continuing this farce? Was he deluded?
Clearly he was—grinning at her from the doorway like nothing was wrong at all.
“Trish is asleep. Are you coming out for a nightcap?” he asked.
“No,” she hissed, and turned her back on him.
Then she felt his hand on her shoulders, massaging her in a way that previously would have sent a flood of desire and happiness through her. Now his touch revolted her and she flinched away.
“Just one drink. Come on. I’ve missed you. I need to talk to you.”
“All right,” she said.
If he wanted talk, he would have it. She wouldn’t be shy about what she was planning to say.
She grabbed her jacket—the gloves were packed—and followed him down the corridor.
When they were out of earshot of the bedrooms, he began to talk in a normal voice, as if nothing was wrong.
“There’s a storm brewing. You can’t see it from this side; it’s approaching from the other way. The lightning was incredible coming back. We might only have time for one quick drink outside, but it’ll be worth it for the spectacle—and the rain will be blowing over the balcony.”
Cassie followed in silence as he collected a bottle and glasses from the kitchen.
Outside, the wind was starting to gust, but as he’d said, due to the storm’s direction, the balcony was sheltered. The waves were crashing onto shore and in the faint ambient light she could just see the white crests of the breakers.
This would be the last time she’d sit out here. Thinking about all the other times, what he’d said to her and what she’d believed, filled her with rage all over again.
“My gorgeous, I’ve missed you so. Has everything been well here?”
Ryan moved his chair closer to hers and handed her a glass.
Cassie downed half of it in one gulp.
“Firstly, I’m not your gorgeous.”
He stared at her, eyebrows raised, genuine puzzlement in his eyes.
“What do you mean? Is something wrong?”
How had she ever believed him? Looking at him now, Cassie couldn’t comprehend how badly she’d allowed herself to be misled.
“Ryan, I’ve had enough of your games. It’s perfectly clear you’re not trying to get a divorce.”
He sighed.
“Cassie, don’t be like this. Please. This is difficult enough for me as it is. Do you know—”
“Oh, spare me!”
She saw his face change as he picked up the blunt sarcasm in her tone, but she continued in full tirade.
“What are you going to say? ‘It’s so hard for me having to nurse Trish through this divorce. Oh, Cassie, please understand.’
“Well, Ryan, I do understand. The only difficult thing for you right now is coordinating your stories, because there is no divorce. There isn’t, there never was, it’s all just a complete bullshit story. You’re
