Page 78 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘She wouldn’t have said no.’

‘She might have if she knew you were still married,’ I observe. ‘She might change her mind when she learns you weren’t truthful about it.’

‘Stop going on about it. I told her about you. The divorce itself is a technicality.’

‘If you say so. I’m not convinced she’ll see it like that. You should have told me before you pulled that stunt.’

‘I didn’t think you’d care. It’s hardly going to affect us, after all. We’ve made it work between us, haven’t we?’

‘Well, yes. But making it work hasn’t stopped us sleeping together, has it?’ I say this in as offhand a tone as I can, and add that it will never happen again.

‘Obviously.’ He looks at me as though I’m crazy. ‘I wouldn’t cheat on her with you, Ariel. Those other times were . . . well, they were lovely and all that, but it was just sex, wasn’t it?’

I say nothing.

‘It kept us close,’ he adds.

Did he think that sleeping with me from time to time made me work harder on his behalf? That I did things for him I wouldn’t otherwise have done? If that’s the case, he doesn’t know me at all.

‘When did you decide you wanted to marry her? It’s awfully sudden.’

‘I know it’s sudden, but I also know it’s right,’ he says.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about her?’

‘I didn’t want to jinx it.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Charles! Why on earth—’

‘Stop.’ He interrupts me. ‘It’s none of your business. You’re not in charge of my personal life.’

‘Christ Almighty, I’ve been in charge of your personal life for years. Before, during and after we were married. I organised tonight, didn’t I?’

‘You wanted to organise tonight. Same as you want to organise everything I do. You selected my new editor for me. You talked to Maya about PR. You didn’t ask me.’

‘Because they’re professional things!’ I cry.

‘They’re personal too. My books are personal to me, if not to you.’

I grit my teeth. This is not the time to get into an argument about what’s personal and what’s professional.

‘Besides, she needs me,’ he says.

‘In what way?’

‘In a way that you don’t. You don’t need anyone.’

That’s true. At least I’ve tried to make it true. I’ve always preferred to depend on myself. It doesn’t mean I didn’t need Charles when we lived together. When you love someone, you need them. But, of course, we don’t love each other any more.

‘What do you know about her?’ I ask.

‘Now you sound like my mother.’

‘Does she know?’ I wonder what Pamela Boyd-Miller will have to say about her son’s new fiancée. Iseult seems to be significantly more malleable than me. Perhaps that’s why Charles has fallen for her. Perhaps Pamela will too.

‘Nobody knows,’ he replies.

‘Except everyone who looks at social media.’