Her heart clenched at the thought of smashing his dreams. Seeing him so full of optimism and ideas reminded her of the young man she’d first met at university. He’d just started his first job on the help desk there and had come to sort out an IT problem for her. He was funny and kind and didn’t make her feel stupid, and the ideas he had, his take on the world, were so refreshing and different, she’d quickly become besotted with him. Somehow, in the intervening years, that spark had been extinguished, the pressures of life robbing him of the joy she’d seen on his face just moments ago. She couldn’t take that away from him. Not when he’d clearly been slogging away in a job he wasn’t really enjoying for her sake. For the family’s sake.

I can’t let him down like that, can’t jeopardise our future. But she was going to have to think of something pretty damned quick to make sure that didn’t happen.

Chapter Eight

By the time the kids were all settled in bed, Matt was pacing the floor in his eagerness to discuss his plans further. Sara felt the contents of her stomach lurch as soon as she entered the lounge and realised that she couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer. I’m going to have to confess. Bile shot up her throat and she dashed back upstairs, just making it to their en-suite bathroom before she was sick.

She knelt on the floor in front of the toilet as her stomach heaved until there was nothing left. Exhausted and shaken, she leant against the bath, her heart hammering in her chest, nausea swirling around her belly, making her reluctant to move. Footsteps thumped up the stairs and Matt appeared in the doorway.

‘You okay, love?’ His face was etched with concern.

She shook her head, her voice feeble. ‘Just feeling a bit sick. Must have picked up a bug or something.’

‘It wasn’t my cooking, was it?’ he joked, but she could see the worry on his face. He always struggled to know what to do when she was ill.

‘I had a prawn sandwich for lunch and forgot to put it in the fridge at work. I think it must be that.’ She couldn’t look at him in case he could see the lie in her eyes. Her sickness was nerves, pure and simple, with a side helping of fear. When did I get scared of telling him the truth? she wondered, then told herself not to be so ridiculous. There was nothing scary about her husband. Nothing.

‘Let’s get you into bed,’ he said, helping her up from the floor. ‘Can I get you anything? Hot water maybe, to settle your stomach?’

She shook her head. ‘No thanks, I think I just need to lie down.’