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Back The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Sheryl Browne
  3. Dedication
  4. KARLA
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Epilogue
  54. The Affair
  55. Hear more from Sheryl
  56. Books by Sheryl Browne
  57. A Letter from Sheryl
  58. The Babysitter
  59. The Second Wife
  60. Acknowledgements

Stepping inside his partially open door, my gaze goes instinctively to his bed and I stop dead. The duvet is thrown back and tangled. There’s a soft hollow in his pillow, an empty space where my little boy’s body should be. My eyes shoot to his bedside table, my panic subsiding a little as I realise his glasses are there. His iPad, too. He wouldn’t go far without either of those. He’s with Jason. Has to be. Backing out, I turn on my heel and fly to the main bedroom.

Please let him be there. Please, God, let him be there. My heart battering against my chest and terrifying scenarios screaming in my head – my ten-year-old son, wandering the cold, unfriendly streets on his own – I press down the door handle, and then I start breathing again. Relief flooding through me, I move quietly towards the bed. My husband is lying on his back, one arm thrown across his forehead. Tucked safely in the crook of his other arm is Josh, sleeping soundly, his head pressed against his father’s chest, listening to the reassuring thrum of his heartbeat. As I so often did, feeling secure and needed and wanted.

Was that really such a short while ago?

I won’t let him go. Can’t allow him to. I have to make Jason see that, whatever it is he craves, whatever he thinks is missing in his life, he will find it right here, with his family. As long as we have each other we can survive. We can do more than survive; we can fly, if only I can open his eyes.

Thirty-Three

DIANA