Chapters (60)
- Cover
- Books by Sheryl Browne
- Dedication
- KARLA
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Epilogue
- The Affair
- Hear more from Sheryl
- Books by Sheryl Browne
- A Letter from Sheryl
- The Babysitter
- The Second Wife
- Acknowledgements
Taking a breath, I squeak the door open, my gaze going immediately to his desk. Seeing no sign of him, I step inside and then start as I realise where he is. Slumped in the leather club chair to the side of the door is my husband. Arms crossed over his chest, a bottle nestled in the crook of his elbow, Jason appears to be fast asleep. Close to unconsciousness possibly. My heart skitters against my ribcage as I crouch beside him and realise the bottle is empty. He chose to come here, not answering his phone, drinking himself into a stupor, rather than go home.
Oh, Jason… Moving closer, I check to make sure he’s breathing. His eyelids flicker as I study his face, tracing my fingers lightly over his high cheekbones and strong jawline. He’s in need of a shave, not that I’ve ever minded his unshaven chin grazing my skin. Dearly, I wish I hadn’t been so quick to judge him without establishing the facts. I’ve hurt him. I’d do anything now to undo it. To be home with him lying next to me, safe and sober. Then I would show him how much I love him. That I could never contemplate a life without him.
I press my lips lightly to his. ‘Jason,’ I whisper. He doesn’t stir and panic grips me afresh. I have no idea what to do. Should I call an ambulance? Try to get him home? But how? Easing myself to my feet, I pull out my phone, hoping to enlist the security guard’s help with getting Jason into my car. But… should I let him sleep it off for a while?
Uncertain, I decide to call my mum before moving him. My body feels heavy, weary with the weight of too much worry. I walk to Jason’s desk and sink into his chair.
My eyes fall on a Post-it note next to his laptop. I don’t really register what’s written there at first, and then a single word leaps out at me: ‘FlirtEasy’. My breath dies in my throat, my mind reeling as I read what’s beneath it: ‘Password – Megaidiot1’. Jason’s handwriting. My eyes confirm this, but my head refuses to believe it. My gaze shoots to the laptop and I reach towards it as if it might bite me.
Tentatively, I stroke a finger over the mouse, and the screen comes to life. I stare, stupefied, at it for a second. And then my heart lurches violently. He’s signed out, but it’s quite obvious which site he was signed into. Feeling sick to my stomach, I place my phone down and type in the password. Apart from the tears sliding down my cheeks, I am quite still as I read the profiles of the women who have responded to Jason almost blindly. There are several.