He only knew that the wedding was being held in the country somewhere. Berkshire. Probably a town hall...or a village pub... He had the address, but it meant nothing to him because he rarely saw fit to venture outside London.
‘In fact...’ He dropped his voice a couple of levels, ‘I’ve been having some rather interesting fantasies involving that dress...’
Susie didn’t want to hear. She didn’t want to be reminded that she was just all about the sex and the small talk. She also didn’t want to feel the liquid she was now feeling pooling between her legs, making her want to touch herself right here, right now.
‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on your work...and...er...not having...fantasies about me in a drab brown dress...?’
‘You’re cute when you fish for compliments, Susie...’
‘I was doing no such thing!’
‘Of course you were. You want me to tell you that the dress isn’t brown...and it isn’t drab—at least not on you. You want me to tell you that those chiffon layers give just enough of a hint of what’s underneath to drive any sane man crazy with desire... You want me to tell you that if you were wearing that dress for me and me alone I’d insist you don’t wear a bra. But, considering you won’t be, then you’re under orders to wear your sturdiest, least attractive bra—because I don’t want any other man’s eyes lingering too long on your breasts...those breasts are for my eyes only...’
‘Stop...’ She hated the way he could make her blood run hot in her veins, the way he could make her blush and giggle and could drive every coherent thought from her head.
‘I wouldn’t stop,’ he murmured huskily, glancing down at his watch and realising that in under fifteen minutes someone would tap him on the shoulder and tell him that he was ready to board, ‘but I’ve got to run. And...’
‘Time is money. Yes. I know.’ It was what he always said, in that teasing voice of his, and it had become their private mantra—which was just one of the stupid little things that had lulled her into falling in love with him. One of the shared jokes which made their relationship feel so intimate to her but which really didn’t mean anything to him at all.
She remembered the pregnancy test stick, temporarily forgotten, which was on the bed next to her.
‘I’m not sure I can see you on Sunday evening when you get back,’ she said flatly. ‘Things aren’t going to end until quite late Saturday night...probably not until the early hours of Sunday morning...and I’m thinking I might just hang around for the rest of Sunday there...catch up with all those relatives I haven’t seen in such a long time...’
‘I thought catching up with the relatives you haven’t seen in a long time was one of the things bugging you about going in the first place...?’
‘There are quite a few I do actually want to see...so... Maybe next week we can...er...meet up...?’
Normally she would be hopping up and down at the thought of seeing him, not politely putting him off, but these weren’t normal times, were they? Normal times were at an end, and she had to start laying the foundations for her eventual withdrawal. She had to train herself to get used to not having him around—and widening the gaps between the times when they saw one another was step one on that road.
Her mind fogged over. Because there were now so many steps on this new road that she wasn’t sure where to put the first one.
‘No problem,’ Sergio said easily, thinking that she would be seeing him a whole lot sooner than she anticipated.
‘No problem?’
‘I’ll call you.’
‘Right. Yes. Call me.’
‘Really have to go now... I’ll see you when I see you...’
He disconnected. Susie stared at her mobile phone, heart thudding. He hadn’t expressed any disappointment at the thought that he wouldn’t be seeing her the weekend when he returned from New York.
Was he tiring of her? Had she reached her sell-by date? She had always known that it existed, but now that it was staring her in the face she felt sick, desperate with longing, panicked at the thought that he might be in the process of dumping her, and angry with herself for not being stronger when it was going to happen anyway—just as soon as she detonated her bomb under his carefully organised life.