To Love Honour and Disobey

She closed her eyes. The problem was that what they’d just shared hadn’t been fun to her. That had been everything.

How could she have thought she could handle him again? She was such an idiot. But she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Wouldn’t ask him for more—demand what she knew he had no desire to deliver. Mortification resurged—it had gone bone deep when she’d realised he hadn’t married her because he was madly in love with her; she didn’t want to be so foolish again now.

What she needed was a little defence. OK, she just needed to get out of there.

‘I need to get back to Phil’s. He’ll be expecting me.’

‘I’ll call him. You’re still tired.’

‘I can call him.’

But it seemed Seb had already spoken with Phil at some point, because when Ana spoke to him the plans were already in place.

‘I hope you don’t mind, darling, but I packed up most of your stuff. I’ve had a shipment of fabric in and haven’t got anywhere else to store it.’

‘Of course.’

‘You stay with Seb, darling. He has much more space there.’

It was a conspiracy. So much for the gay man being like a sister in solidarity, this was the boys clubbing together.

‘You sound tired. You could do with some rest.’

She could hear him smiling as he spoke.

‘I’ve had a migraine.’ They’d only had sex the once; it wasn’t the all-night orgy that Phil was so clearly imagining.

She pushed the ‘end’ button on the phone and turned to watch Seb dress for work. ‘You set that up, didn’t you? With Phil already.’

He shifted so she couldn’t see his face. ‘I wanted you to stay.’

‘Why didn’t you just ask me to?’

‘Because I thought you’d say no.’

Did he really not know? Had he not worked it out? She was trapped. She didn’t want to say no to him. And now, after this morning, she couldn’t say no to him—not any more.

Seb gave her a sideways glance as he did up the buttons on his shirt. She was too quiet. And still way too pale. The sudden onset of her migraine yesterday had frightened the hell out of him. He still wasn’t breathing right—the tightness in his chest not easing. It was as if he was permanently on alert for some kind of catastrophe—all adrenalin and edge. Not even being so deep inside her this morning had helped. In fact that experience had only seemed to make his sense of urgency worse. He’d said she was stressed about it and maybe she was. But so was he.

She had to stay with him. Despite knowing it meant their affair was growing in complexity, there was no question about her leaving. Not while she looked so ill. And no way was she sleeping in any bed other than his for a while yet.

‘I won’t be here more than a day or two, Seb. I’ll find another place.’

‘Just relax, Ana. It doesn’t bother me.’ Only a bit. He was feeling his way—blindly working on an instinct he hadn’t yet identified. ‘I’ll bring your things back at lunchtime.’

‘You don’t have to do that. After work is fine.’

That was too many hours away. He needed to check she was OK before then. He walked over to the bed. Exerted formidable restraint and didn’t kiss her—knowing he’d never get to work today if he did. But he did touch—a gentle push to make her lie back on the pillows. ‘Stay in bed. You need sleep.’

Half an hour later he looked at the files piling high on his desk and shook his head. How many marriages had he helped end now? Must be hundreds. And so easy it was too. A piece of paper here and sworn affidavit there. It was the division of assets that got the game trickier. No one wanted to give anything material up. It was all about protecting their interests. And Seb always did his best for his clients.

Unless there were kids. And then, he’d have to admit to himself, he’d try to do what was right for those kids. Always took stock of the psychologists’ reports if there were any. Recommended counselling—did his best to insist on it. Because he’d been that kid—more than once—witnessing the end of another marriage and being pulled in a million directions. Weirdly, as his clients had become wealthier, more famous, the money thing became even more of an issue—the lifestyle to which they were accustomed had to be maintained. Yet there was often more than one ex in the mix. Kids to more than one mother. The mess was horrendous.

At least he and Ana didn’t have any such worries. Dissolving their paper marriage would be easy. They had their own assets and they’d invested nothing in the marriage. And there were no children.