Her One Mistake(48)

“Of course I do, she’s my wife,” Brian had said.

“Yes, and she’s not even looking back at you.” The young man laughed at what he thought was a very comical situation.

Brian’s head had snapped up to look at Harriet. “Well, she is a lot more beautiful than me.” Brian smiled.

When the photographer had finished, Harriet had forced herself to drink the lukewarm champagne. “Why would you do that to me?” Brian had leaned in close as he spoke into her ear.

“Do what?” Harriet was genuinely baffled.

“Try and make me look a fool on our wedding day. That boy is laughing at me, no doubt telling everyone my new wife doesn’t even want to look at me, while I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Don’t be silly, Brian, of course I was looking at you,” she’d said. “I just saw that waiter spill red wine down this man’s shirt.” Harriet giggled. “He was so flustered, trying to mop it up as—”

“Well,” he’d spat, taking her hand as he’d led her off toward the restaurant. “Isn’t that just wonderful.”

When he’d slipped into bed beside her that night, Brian had left a cold space between them. “You didn’t take your eyes off him all night.”

“Who?” Harriet had turned toward her new husband.

“The waiter, of course. You embarrassed me on purpose, Harriet.”

“What do you mean? I wasn’t looking at him all night,” she’d pleaded. He’d caught her attention a couple of times because he was so incompetent, but that was all. Did it look like she was staring too much though? she’d wondered with a pang of guilt.

“You spoiled the day for me. How do you think you made me feel on our wedding day when you kept looking at another man?”

“I wasn’t looking at him. Not like that,” she’d implored. “Brian, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. What you think happened just isn’t true.”

“You think I’m lying? That I’m making things up? I know what I saw.”

“No, I don’t think you’re lying but—”

“You made me look like an idiot,” he’d snapped, his face flushing with rage. “So don’t start trying to pretend this is my fault.”

“Brian, I’m sorry.” Harriet couldn’t believe she’d hurt him so badly. How stupid she had been. She’d reached over to touch her husband, moving closer, hoping that as it was their wedding night he could forgive her. He wasn’t a big drinker, so maybe he’d had a little too much. But then she didn’t remember him having any alcohol after the champagne on the terrace. “Come here,” she’d murmured softly. She’d make him forget whatever he was working himself up over.

But Brian had rolled away and she’d been left looking at the back of his broad shoulders, rising and dipping with his sharp breaths.

Harriet had turned onto her back and stared at the hotel ceiling, tears sliding down her cheeks that their wedding night had come to this. It was nothing she had hoped for. She had never felt so alone.

“I’m sorry,” Harriet had whispered to her husband’s back. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” She’d known he was still awake, but he hadn’t answered.

? ? ?

“I’VE BEEN WONDERING why you swapped the photo.” Brian’s voice made her jump. “Did you not like the one I took of you and Alice?” He stood in the doorway with a tumbler of water that he carefully placed on the nightstand. His eyes never left Harriet’s.

“You know I didn’t swap it,” she said, letting the frame drop onto the bed beside her.

Brian leaned forward and picked it up. “And you know I don’t like this picture.”

“I didn’t change the photo, Brian,” she said again, noticing the muscles twitching in his jaw.

“So she’s gone,” he said, waving the frame in front of her.

“What are you saying?” Harriet shifted nervously on the bed. “Brian, you’re scaring me.”

“Am I?” he said, getting closer until she could feel his breath on her cheek. “My love, I wouldn’t do that.” He reached out and took a tendril of her hair, stroking it between his fingers. “You must be getting confused again.” And with that, Brian let go of her hair and walked out of the bedroom.





CHARLOTTE


By Wednesday evening Audrey had persuaded me I should attend the school social, though when Tom arrived to look after the children I was already regretting it because I really didn’t want to go.

I’d fallen into a routine of making pleasantries at the school gate, keeping my eyes hidden behind sunglasses, my head down, and scurrying away again before anyone could stop me. I stopped returning messages and became completely reliant on Audrey acting as a go-between for me, thanking friends for whatever thoughts they were passing on to me.

Aud had removed Facebook from my phone again. She’d told me I was banned from reading anything online. I knew if I did I’d find myself talking to her about what I’d read, and then she’d most likely fulfill her promise to take away my phone. Strangely, I began finding it relatively easy to hide away from the world. What I didn’t know wasn’t hurting me.