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“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” I sob, my eyes streaming. “It was nothing. A fleeting fling. One night! I’d already pulled away before his bit on the side accosted me and delivered the blow.” Wait. No, that’s wrong. Jude’sherbit on the side. I snivel, wiping my face into Abbie’s shirt. “I just feel so fucking stupid. What kind of husband lets his wife shag another man?”
“Stranger things have happened,” Charley says as Abbie wipes under my eyes with her thumbs. “Lloyd and I went to the tennis club the other night. Thought we might join, maybe get the kids into tennis when they’re a bit older.”
I frown and knock Abbie away, facing Charley. “The tennis club?”
“Yeah, you know the one off the high street?”
I look at Abbie as Abbie looks at me. She’s desperately trying not to laugh. “You mean Swingers HQ?”
Charley gasps. “You knew?”
“Everyone this side of London knows,” Abbie says, giving in and falling apart. I join her, in hysterics.
“I didn’t!” Charley blurts. “And neither did Lloyd.” She sits up straight. “Wait.” Then she’s off her stool, marching to the lounge. “Lloyd, did you know that place is swingers central?”
“I may have heard the rumours,” Lloyd says, sheepish.
“Oh my God, Lloyd! Are you saying you want to swing?”
“Oh, shut up, Charley. I was curious, that’s all. I didn’t expect to feel like a steak being dangled over a lion’s den.”
I lose all control of my bodily functions, including my ability to swallow, my wine dribbling out.
“I was a steak too!” Charley says, outraged.
“A filet mignon, babe.”
She huffs and comes back to the kitchen, reclaiming the wine from my hand. “He’s right. We were steaks.”
I pull myself together, my amusement fading. I think I was a steak too. And Jude was definitely a lion.
And now I’m just a fucking mug.
Chapter 24
By Friday, my hangover has just about left the building. I’m disappointed. Focusing on the raging headache was a hell of a lot more appealing than this sense of loss.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I wanted this. Work, no distractions.
I place the phone down on my final call of the day and rest back in my chair. On the plus side, it’s been a productive two-day hangover. I’ve secured two new clients and inched that little bit closer to my projections.
I stand and gather the few portfolios I plan on working on this weekend and head for the elevators, seeing Gary and a few of the other senior partners around the table as I pass the conference room. I hold my hand up in goodbye but slow when Gary stands and waves me back. I reverse my steps and push my way in. “Hey.”
“Good job this week,” he says.
“Thanks.” I smile as the other senior partners mumble their agreement and praise.
Bob, who’s been at the firm longer than I’ve been alive, stands. “We’ve got our monthly meet this evening. Nothing too formal, just a few drinks and obligatory casual catch-up. It would be good if you could join us.”
My heart speeds up, my interest piqued. They’re inviting me to one of their infamous out-of-office meets? “Sure,” I say, smiling, my optimism soaring. “I’d love to.”
Gary winks at me. Saying something without saying it? “We’re heading a bit further afield this evening. You can expense your transport.”
“Yes.” Sue stands and smooths down her power suit. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and the only woman on the board. I hope she’ll be rooting for me to join her and start evening out the numbers. “It would be lovely to have some female company for once,” she says, her eyebrows arching harshly as she flashes all the men a coy smile.
There’s a collection of gruff grunts as everyone stands and starts filtering out of the room until there’s only me and Gary left. “They’re very impressed with your continued growth, Amelia,” he says, his smile almost proud.