The Lie(39)

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m touching myself, sliding my finger along my clit, wishing it was him, needing to burn off this energy that is sweltering inside me.

I come to thoughts of him, trying not to yell out his name, but I’m screaming it on the inside.

And just like that I’m sated enough to fall asleep, and hopeful enough that tomorrow this need will still be wiped clean.





CHAPTER TEN

Brigs

Edinburgh

Four Years Ago



“Miranda,” I say delicately, standing in the doorway of our kitchen.

She’s at the breakfast table, a cup of tea in front of her, the steam rising in the beams of morning light coming through the window.

Her back is to me. She says nothing.

“Miranda,” I say louder now and slowly walk closer to get a look at her.

When I’m finally in front of her, only then does she look up.

“Brigs,” she says to me. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

I shake my head and pull out the chair, the noise of it scraping against the floor loud and jarring.

“No. Nothing. Why?”

She shrugs and sips her tea, her eyes going to the window.

It’s silent in here. I can hear the grandfather clock ticking and the sound of Hamish playing with his toy cars in the other room.

It would be the perfect morning for any family.

But my heart is cold. The room is cold. Everything about this house is laced with ice.

She takes another sip of her tea and gives me an expectant look. She had a manicure yesterday, her nails polished to stones. “What is it?” she repeats, annoyance in her tone.

I guess it shows how often we actually talk to each other. I can’t remember the last time we had a conversation that didn’t involve Hamish. And that’s not good. That’s why my heart is being torn in a million directions. That’s why I’m feeling everything that no married man should feel.

But it has to stop. I have to try.

“I was thinking,” I tell her slowly, eyeing the window. “It’s a brilliant day outside. Why don’t we drop Hamish off at your parents, or mine, and the two of us go on a drive? Anywhere you want. We haven’t taken Moneypenny out for a spin in years.”

“Oh, Brigs,” she says with a sigh, avoiding my eyes.

“What?”

“I don’t have time for that,” she says simply. “I’ve got a lunch date with Carol.”

“We don’t have to take long. We can go after.”

She shakes her head, making the disagreeable little noise she makes when she’s fed up with slow waiters at a restaurant or when the maid doesn’t dust the china figurines in the sitting room.

“What would we do? Where would we go?”

“Anywhere,” I tell her imploringly, leaning toward her and placing my hand palm down on the table. “And we can do anything. You just say the word.”

“I’d rather not.”

I inhale deeply through my nose, staying silent, hoping she’ll see the need in my eyes.

She doesn’t. She looks at me briefly, then back down to her tea. “I said I’d rather not,” she repeats.

“Tomorrow then,” I tell her. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

She sighs, hastily tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’ve got plans. You know I’m busy on the weekends.”

“You’re busy every day.”

“Well, so are you,” she snaps. “And you don’t see me on your bloody case about it, do you?”

Maybe things would have turned out better if you were, I think. If you actually cared.

“Jesus, Miranda,” I tell her. “When did this become okay?”

She raises her brows. “I don’t even know what you mean.”

I put my hand on top of hers. “This. This marriage. This distance. What happened to us?”

The last time we’d left the house together was a few weeks ago, and that was just to take Hamish to the park. I don’t think we spoke more than two words to each other.

It was that night I went to Natasha.

That night that I saw the truth.

Miranda stares at me curiously before slowly removing her hand and hiding it under the table, where I can’t touch her. “You are daft, Brigs. Absolutely daft. Nothing has happened to us. This is just us. This is just our life. It’s always been this way. Nothing has changed.”

But I’ve changed.

I’ve changed.

And this won’t do anymore.

“Please,” I say to her. “Come with me. Forget about your plans and your friends for once. Forget about taking care of Hamish. Forget about everything except your husband. Just this once. For me. Today. Please.”

I’m begging. I know she can see it in my eyes, hear it in the crack of my voice. This has to happen. I won’t go down on a sinking ship without trying to swim to shore.

She gives me a sour smile and shakes her head. “I told you,” she says, voice clipped. Final. “I’m busy.”

There’s only a table between us but it’s a million kilometers long.

I stare at her, hoping that she can at least see that I tried.

But she’s back to looking out the window, sipping from her tea with manicured nails, her mind already far away, onto bigger things, better things.