A new thought occurred to me. Maybe he’s just trying to soften the blow, talking about Rowan like this. Half-drunk and justifying what he’s done, in front of me. Being as honest as he dares to be. Preparing me, trying to anaesthetise me a little bit against all the pain that’s coming.

Was she the one? Had Sean chosen her over me? Was this week all about impressing him with a luxurious villa in the south of France?

I rubbed my eyes. This was how I was now, ever since seeing the messages on his phone. Everyday insecurities, the little things that niggle at all of us from time to time, had taken on monstrous form. They had grown big enough to throw a shadow over everything, every thought, every comment, every waking minute. All the time. They were always there, whispering in my ear, forcing me to dissect and analyse everything he did, everything he’d done in the past.

Another thought came galloping hard after the first.

Maybe it was all my fault. Maybe I had driven him to this. Pushed him into it. Maybe I wasn’t attentive enough, loving enough, maybe there wasn’t enough sex. Maybe I should have done more, tried harder. Maybe I wasn’t thin enough, interesting enough, clever enough, rich enough to hold his interest for the long haul.

What else was wrong with me?

Maybe I—

Stop it. Just stop. Self-pity is the enemy. It will get you precisely nowhere.

The truth was, my little bubble of comfortable married complacency had been cracked wide open and shattered into pieces. Instead of being sure, and secure, and safe, I was now in a new place – with absolutely no idea where I stood. For the hundredth time I kicked myself for avoiding a confrontation this afternoon, for chickening out instead of asking him about the messages as soon as I’d seen them. Now, more than ever, I knew the truth of the old saying: a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

Maybe it was the wine, but just walking with him, talking to him the way we’d always done, feeling his skin on mine, reminded me again of everything we’d had together. All the good things, now and in the past.

Everything we stood to lose.

I knew our situation was bad, but he was still my husband. And maybe he was still worth fighting for.

Chapter 9

9

The village square in Autignac was strung with fairy lights that criss-crossed the space above our heads, a warm glow against the long shadows of approaching dusk. The village church, its restored Romanesque steeple rising into the darkening night sky, formed one side of the square while the little trio of boulangerie, boucherie and charcuterie were shuttered and dark on the other side. A skinny tabby cat sat on a first-floor window ledge, blinking down at us with luminous yellow eyes.