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Erica

You don’t know me, and I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your husband is sleeping with my wife.

You have absolutely no reason to believe me, I know, so let me introduce myself.

My name is Marcus Crowe, and if my name sounds familiar, it’s because I share a surname with Alex’s secretary, Sophie.

Cliché isn’t it? The CEO has a torrid affair with the receptionist. Unfortunately, in our case, this is our reality. Sophie is my wife and we’ve been married for just over a year.

I have agonised over this letter for the past few days, trying to find the right words, debating whether I should even tell you at all.

Sophie isn’t aware that I know. Or maybe she is, who knows? Things have obviously not been good between us. But she’s so fucking conceited, she probably thinks she’s covered her tracks well.

I suppose she did. I was living in ignorant bliss until I came across some messages after she left herself signed in on my laptop. Messages I’m more than happy to give you access to, of course. No one can make claims like these without backing them up.

Whatever she thinks is wrong, she doesn’t have a clue that our marriage is done, and I’m about to fuck up her entire world like she did to me.

Telling you isn’t about revenge.

While I’m pissed off at Sophie, this letter isn’t about getting back at the guy who fucked my wife. In the end, Alex doesn’t owe me anything, and if he’s the type of scum to sleep with a married woman, that’s his problem (and yours too, I suppose). Sophie is the one who promised herself to me, who took those vows with me, so she’s the one that I’m angry at.

But with that thought in mind, Alex may not owe me anything, but I’m certain he made the same promises to you that Sophie did to me. Therefore, I think it’s only right if you know the truth so you can make your own (informed) decision.

I’m only sorry that the truth is so hideously fucked up and is likely to cause you a great deal of pain. No one deserves this.

I don’t know what you plan to do with this letter, or if you want to contact me further, but just in case, I’ll attach my number and email address. If I don’t hear from you, I wish you luck and hope you can find some peace.

Please, believe me, I didn’t want to send this letter. But I couldn’t, in good conscience, sit on this information without saying something.

I’m sorry again.

Best wishes,

Marcus.

“Shit.”

Erica met her sister’s gaze as she finally finished reading the contents of Marcus’ letter, nodding in agreement. “Shit indeed.”

Lottie had arrived expecting a day out with her siblings after she couldn’t make dinner last night. Instead, she found an emotional Erica and a letter that changed everything.

“Does Josh know?”

“Nope. He has no idea,” Erica said, lighting another cigarette - her third since Lottie had arrived. “Do you really think Alex would be standing if our brother knew he was cheating? ”

“I suppose not, no,” Lottie admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know how you got through dinner last night.”

Neither did Erica.

It was so difficult for her to sit there playing the loving wife. Especially when Alex had arrived late. He apologised, explaining he had dropped off his secretary.

And whatever else had happened during that car ride.

“And Alex doesn’t know?”

“I don’t see how he would. He didn’t get laid last night, but I told him I’d got my period, and he dropped it.”

Silence fell between the sisters as Lottie read the letter again, turning it over in her hand.

“Do you believe this guy?” She asked finally.

“Yes. I spoke to him after—”

“You spoke to him?”

Erica resisted the urge to laugh at the shock on her sister’s face. “Of course, I spoke to him, Charlotte. You don’t get a letter like that and ignore it!”

“Well, no. I suppose not.” Lottie reached for her cigarette, burned away to nothing in the ashtray, and tutted. “But still, I can’t believe you contacted him. What did you say? Did you lose your shit?”

“No,” Erica said, shaking her head. “No, I thanked him for his letter, and—”

“You thanked him?”

“Lottie, if you interrupt one more time, I swear.”

“Okay, okay. So, you thanked him for the letter, and then what?”

Erica finally stubbed out the cigarette. Damn Alex for pushing her back to smoking. She had been doing so well. “Well, then I asked him to meet me for coffee.”

“Hello.”

Silence.

“Am I speaking to Marcus Copeland?”

Nothing.

“Um, hello?”

“Mrs Carr?” The sudden voice in her ear nearly made Erica drop the receiver.

“Yes, hi,” she breathed.

God, this was painful. More silence stretched between them as she figured out what to say next. She had never felt more uncomfortable and unsure of herself, and she was a woman who prided herself on her social graces.

“I’m sorry Mrs Carr—”

“Erica, please.”

“Erica. Okay. Well, Erica , I’m sorry you’re having to make this phone call and that circumstances have forced us into this awkward conversation.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologise for.” She chewed her lip. Did she mean that? “Although I feel the need to say sorry, so I guess we’re even.”

“What are you sorry for?” His tone gave away his surprise. Neither of them had reason to apologise, and the stilted and formal way of speaking to one another was in the way of any actual conversation .

It was enough.

“I shouldn’t apologise, Alex should. But since he won’t, I am sorry my cheating scum of a husband stuck his dick in your wife.”

Silence.

“Well. What an eloquent choice of words. I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but it’s effective.”

Was she crazy, or did she hear a hint of amusement in his tone?

“I accept your apology, Erica, and in turn, I’m sorry my cheating bitch of a wife let him stick his dick in her.”

Erica felt herself relax as he matched her tone and dropped the formalities.

“Did she let him?” She asked, clearing her throat. “I mean, is that what the messages imply?”

“Are you asking who came on to whom?” Marcus asked, sighing. God, he sounded broken. Not that she could blame him. Somehow, she knew his answer before he even spoke. “I think from what I read; Sophie did the chasing. ”

So, she had been right. Sophie did have a crush on Alex. Well, more than a crush by the looks of things. It was surprising how unsurprised she was.

“And Alex allowed himself to be caught,” she said with her own sigh. After all these years, all the people who had tried their luck, Sophie was the one who made him buckle.

Why her?

Why now?

Silence fell between them once more, only different this time. More relaxed. Contemplative.

“How much did you actually read?” She asked finally, curiosity getting the better of her. Now that the truth was out there, she wanted all the details so she could plan her next move.

“Not as much as I’d like,” Marcus admitted. “But enough. Once I realised what I was reading, I shut down my laptop as though that made it all go away. It’s still on there, though. I don’t know why I did it, I just remember my heart sinking and the thought ‘I shouldn’t be reading this’ going through my head.”

“Almost like you stumbled on a stranger’s conversation?”

“Yes! Yes, exactly like that. How did you know?”

“That’s how I felt reading your letter.” Erica glanced over at the pages still littered on the kitchen counter. “My heart sank at first. I could feel my face flaming. And then I felt almost embarrassed. Because I couldn’t believe I was reading about Alex. My Alex.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

A painful lapse in the conversation had Erica shifting in her chair, wracking her brain for something to say. She should have prepared more for this.

“Erica—”

“Marcus—”

“Go on,” he said, cutting her off before she could offer the same courtesy. “I was only going to repeat myself.”

“Okay.” She took a slow, calming breath. “I just wanted to thank you, Marcus. I know it can’t have been easy thinking about someone else when your entire world was crumbling. And I just… I really appreciate you telling me everything. ”

“You’re welcome. I’m surprised at your reaction, but you’re welcome.”

“Surprised why?”

“You haven’t questioned me once. You haven’t demanded proof. Why not?”

Erica took a moment to gather her thoughts. She had no reason to trust Marcus, but he had no reason to lie. There were already concerns about Sophie that had never quite gone away, and the truth was, she realised she didn’t trust Alex.

He’d been too cagey. Too quick to shit all over Sophie.

A small part of her still held onto the hope that someone had made a mistake - that it wasn’t her Alex who had exchanged those texts with Sophie.

Perhaps it was another Alex. Or a fake profile posing as her husband. She’d rationalised it a million different ways before she even picked up the phone. But none of those possibilities mattered now.

For Marcus, there was no denying his wife had broken their vows. Even if her little shred of hope blossomed into reality, it felt like rubbing salt into the wound.

A gotcha moment. Haha, my marriage isn’t over after all.

She couldn’t be that person. Not when she could hear how utterly broken Marcus was.

“I believe you,” she said simply. “Do I hope that there’s been a mistake? Of course. But given how dejected you sound, I doubt a decent person would make another feel the same way.”

A last moment of silence.

“Thank you for that, Erica. I’m grateful you see it like that.”

“This might seem a bit unorthodox,” Erica replied, her heart racing. “But would you like to get coffee?”

“You invited him for coffee? Honey, are you okay?” Erica couldn’t hold back her laughter. Bless her sister and her overactive imagination.

“Okay, I know you’re not okay, I just meant—”

“I know what you meant, Charlotte,” Erica said, taking the letter from her and neatly folding it back into the envelope. “Don’t worry, I haven’t lost my marbles.”

“No? What would you call meeting a perfect stranger?”

“A Tinder date?” Erica laughed again, leaving the room and heading to her bedroom. “You watch too many crime shows, sis.”

“And apparently you don’t watch enough,” Lottie said, rushing after her. “Honestly, Eri, just think about this. How do you know he’s telling the truth? You can’t just go and meet him!”

“Lottie, please. I’m not so distraught I’m going to put myself in danger. We’re going for coffee. In public. In separate cars.” Erica pulled her arm gently from Lottie’s grasp, walking through the double doors to her bedroom.

“And he’s not lying. You didn’t hear him – there’s no faking that kind of hurt.

“Actors do it all the time! That’s why I’m constantly googling who is fucking who in Hollywood. That’s how convincing it can be to fake it.”

Smirking, Erica took a seat at her vanity mirror, meeting her sister’s eyes as she sank onto the bed. “Your obsession with celebrities aside, I could hear it in every word he said, Lottie. And right now, he’s the only person in the world who understands what I’m going through.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Lottie admitted, scrunching her nose. “Just.... Give me his number before you go meet him. That way, if you end up missing, I have a lead to give the cops.”

Erica chuckled despite her low mood, nodding in response to Lottie’s request. “Fine, Lottie. I’ll give you his number, licence plate and a full-colour picture if it will make you feel better.”

She appreciated her sisters’ concerns, and it wasn’t an unreasonable request, but in her gut, she knew Marcus was no danger to her. He was just another broken heart. Someone who needed her as much as she needed him.

Putting her meeting with Marcus to the back of her mind, Erica turned her attention to her reflection, starting her usual skincare routine. As Lottie watched with a judging eye, Erica cleansed, exfoliated and moisturised, focusing on the task at hand so her mind wouldn’t wander, and she wouldn’t succumb to her crumbling heart.

“What are you doing?” Lottie asked, sitting up and perching on the edge of the bed.

“Moisturising currently. And then I’ll do my make-up routine.”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know you’re moisturising. But why?”

“Skin care is important, little sister.”

“Erica! Stop with the bullshit, you know what I mean!”

Erica smirked at her through the mirror, finding enjoyment in her frustration. Moments like this with Lottie reminded her of those precious years sharing a bedroom as teenagers. She’d hated it at the time, but now she would give anything to be fifteen again and arguing over lip gloss.

“I’ve got to go and meet Marcus,” she said, reaching for her make-up bag. “And if I don’t get a move on, I’ll never be ready in time.”

“You can’t be serious, Eri.”

“What is it?” The smile she gave her sister was a little strained this time. Lottie had done nothing but question her.

“Your husband is screwing his secretary!” Erica winced at the pain of those words. “And you’re planning on ignoring it to go meet some bloke?”

Erica shrugged and applied her base coat.

The truth was, she wanted nothing more than an endless tub of Ben and Jerry’s and a collection of tear-jerker movies to drown her sorrows in.

She wished she could put on her ratty old clothes and climb under a duvet, only resurfacing for more ice cream. Every moment brought her closer to giving in to the immense pain in her heart that threatened to break her. But if she allowed herself a moment of grief, Alex had won .

Despite all her pain, and all of her heartache, Erica was angrier than she had ever been.

How dare Alex?

How fucking dare he.

He had looked her dead in the eye and swore nothing was going on. Sophie was nothing more than a thorn in his side. She couldn’t believe the audacity of the man.

“… And I just think you should cancel on Marcus and let Alex have it!” Erica forced herself to focus on Lottie’s rant, taking a slow breath. “You’re just letting him get away with it, Eri. How can you do that?”

“Oh, Lottie. Who said anything about him getting away with it?”