Waiting To Live: The Waiting Duo, #1

By Clare Bentley

Chris Harper was her brothers' best friend, so it was only natural that Isobel Matheson would fall in love with him. When he went away to college, she stayed in touch with him in the hopes that one day he would look at her as more than Oliver's little sister.
But when Chris returned home after qualifying as a firefighter with a wife, Isobel knew she had missed her chance to tell him the extent of her feelings. She did her best to hide her disappointment, however Charlotte Harper recognised the look in her eyes the minute they were introduced and was instantly intimidated by the woman who knew him so well.
Over the years of marriage, her insecurities convince her that she's her husband's second choice and she goes to drastic lengths to prove it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clare Bentley
• Release date: Apr 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215981191

Book preview

Chapter One

Isobel Matheson wandered the streets, taking in the silence of the darkness. She had only finished work an hour or so ago. She always walked home, despite it being the early hours of the morning; she loved the quietness of the hour. It allowed her to unwind after her shift at the club and think through anything she had on her mind.

Of course, the thing that was constantly on her mind was her best friend, whom she’d been in love with since high school when she’d first discovered an attraction to boys. Though she only thought about him because she couldn’t have him, and she couldn’t have him because he was married with a family.

She wished she had told him how she felt before he went to college halfway across the country and met his wife, although at the time she’d been convinced she’d lose him altogether if she confessed just how much he meant to her.

She reached into her pocket as she went and pulled out her pre-rolled cigarettes. Hesitating on her path, she lit one, pulling hard on it…and that’s when she heard footsteps behind her. They spurred her on to continue walking, but each step was taken more in haste than they had been before. Rarely did she see anyone on her journey home, but when she did, she was cautious. You never did quite know people. She didn’t dare to look back as she hurried towards her destination. She could hear the echo of the footsteps bouncing off the buildings on both sides of the street and realised the person behind was gaining on her. Her heart leapt into her mouth, fear clouding her senses and spurring her into a jog. It did her no good; soon he was at her side.

As Isobel got ready to use her cigarette as a weapon, he spoke. ‘I told you to call me if you needed a lift,’ he said, his voice seeming louder in the darkness.

She instantly relaxed and turned to punch the ample bicep of his six-foot frame. ‘Jesus, Chris, you scared the shit out of me!’

Chris Harper was her best friend. He was thirty-two, two years older than her, and a firefighter, meaning he worked irregular hours. Tonight, he’d been covering for someone until they showed up, which accounted for his presence on the street. She knew he’d probably dropped by the club and on finding she wasn’t there, had followed the route he knew she usually took. He hated that she walked home alone at three a.m., and when he wasn’t on shift, would duck out of the house just to give her a lift home. However, she knew that tonight and tomorrow he was finishing around the time she did, because he had a quid pro quo arrangement with someone on the opposite shift to him.

‘You know I hate you walking the streets this time of night.’

‘And I’ve told you, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.’

‘Did you tell your brother you were walking home? He hates it as much as I do.’

Oliver Matheson owned the club where she worked and was the reason she’d met Chris. The two men had attended school together and being neighbours had meant they’d been friends, but they hadn’t had much to do with each other since going to separate colleges.

‘He might be older than me, but he has about as much control over me as you do,’ she responded as they continued to walk.

‘Well, lucky for you, you get my company tonight.’

She frowned slightly. ‘Where’s the car?’

‘Charlotte needed it, so she dropped me off at work.’

The mention of his wife left a bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her; she just didn’t like her position in his life. As far as Isobel was concerned, that’s where she belonged.

Her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces the instant she had seen the wedding ring on his finger. She hadn’t been able to think straight. The shock had made her spiral out of control and was the reason she’d started having one-night stands.

Isobel got on with Charlotte to a certain extent; after all, she couldn’t be all bad if Chris had picked her to spend the rest of his life with. But she found she had to force herself to be friends with her, when the two probably would have been friends anyway if they had met under different circumstances.

Isobel took a drag on her cigarette and mentally brushed off the mention of his wife. ‘So, how was work?’ she asked, blowing smoke out of her mouth.

‘Quiet,’ he answered.

She knew that ‘quiet’ was relative in his job. It might mean he’d been called to a fire at the park started by teenagers with nothing better to do or it might mean he’d pulled a body out of a house fire. He didn’t like to talk about work. He compartmentalised his life, so when he was off the clock, he could concentrate on life at home.

She linked her arm in his and changed the subject as she continued smoking. ‘I had an interesting shift.’

‘Watching intoxicated people on the prowl sounds interesting,’ he mocked.

‘It wasn’t just people hooking up; Harry was in tonight.’

‘Your stalker?’

‘He’s not a stalker. He’s just got good taste in women.’

‘He sits at the bar and tips you more than his drinks cost for the whole night,’ he said, as if she needed reminding.

‘That doesn’t make him a stalker, Chris. He doesn’t follow me around out of work.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I’ve never seen him outside the club.’

‘That doesn’t mean he isn’t there. It just means he’s good at hiding.’

She laughed. ‘He’s just lonely, so he comes and sits at the bar.’

‘He’s a pervert and he comes to the club to get an eyeful of your fun bags before he goes home to beat off.’

Her face creased in disgust at the image he’d created in her mind. ‘Harper! My God, not every guy is like that. Some people just like company and the club is where they can interact with people they wouldn’t ordinarily come into contact with.’

‘You can justify it all you want; I still think he’s there to get a fix.’

‘Well, Oliver is changing the shirts we have to wear so he may have a wasted journey tomorrow night.’

‘If I know Oliver as well as I think I do, he’s not going to want his bar staff dressed as if they’re nuns; you can guarantee the new shirts will still show off your assets.’

‘My boobs aren’t just an asset for my brother to use to get his customers to buy more drinks.’

‘Those puppies could get any man to do anything.’

‘I’m more than just boobs, Chris.’

‘I know. You’re smoking hot too.’

‘That would explain why I’m still single,’ she said, dropping her cigarette onto the pavement and grinding it out with a twist of her foot.

He untangled their arms and placed his around her shoulders. ‘You’re smoking hot to me.’

His flattering remark created a warm glow in her cheeks. Rarely did she accept compliments; it was only when they came from Chris that she wanted to believe them, despite finding them hard to swallow.

‘Well, if you weren’t married, we could go back to my place and get our freak on,’ she quipped to deflect the attention of his comment.

‘Hell, I’ll get a divorce tomorrow then,’ he joked, as they turned into her street.

Isobel felt deflated by his response. She wished he would get divorced so they could be together, even though she didn’t want to be responsible for breaking up a family, which was another reason why he didn’t know how she felt. If – miraculously – he did feel the same, and he wanted to be with her, she’d be responsible for his daughters having a broken home, like hers had been. But if he didn’t feel the same, it would cause awkwardness and possibly cost her his friendship.

She instantly changed the subject as she tucked her chocolate-brown fringe behind her ear. ‘Anyway, I’ve decided to take driving lessons, so you won’t have to worry about me walking home by myself when I pass.’

‘No, instead I’ll have to stop driving just to avoid you on the road,’ he teased.

Using the back of her hand, Isobel hit him lightly on his bicep as they stopped outside the block of flats where she lived. ‘So, are you still buzzed enough from work that you want to come up for a coffee or are you exhausted enough to go home to bed?’ she asked, hoping to have him to herself for just a little while longer.

‘I’m not tired enough to sleep yet, so coffee it is,’ he replied, bringing a smile to her lips as she opened the communal door.

Walking through the front door of her first-floor flat, Isobel took off her coat and kicked off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. It was only a small flat, divided into three rooms. The open-plan kitchen and lounge took up the majority of the space; the bedroom with en suite bathroom was the only room she could close off when she had visitors.

She maximised the living space with a pale grey decor and a mirror on the furthest wall from the door to give the illusion of more square feet. But her two-seater leather settee positioned in front of the electric fire was still the main focus of the room, if you ignored the TV in the corner.

She had followed the colours through to the kitchen, with bursts of small red appliances to add some character, and although the walls were mainly taken up by cupboards, it made the room seem less suffocating than it was.

It was cosier in her bedroom, with sandy brown walls and a chocolate-coloured feature wall. The big walnut king-size bed in the centre of the furthest wall from the door was her pride and joy, and it showed by the fancy throw folded across the bottom and the decorative cushions up by the pillows. The thick carpet was a luxury she couldn’t afford but had bought anyway. Her bedroom was her sanctuary; it was the door to her dreams, and she had worked hard to make it perfect.

The decorative choices were a poor attempt at making the place look bigger. But if truth were told it was exactly the right size for her; any larger and she’d be rattling around the place.

‘I’ll get the kettle on; you get into your pyjamas,’ Chris said, knowing that was her first priority as soon as she got home after work.

She turned and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’re a gent,’ she said, rushing off in the direction of her bedroom.

He watched her go with a smile as he removed his coat and put it on the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living room in the open-plan flat. Chris cherished their alone time together because they didn’t have much of it these days, and that’s precisely why he’d agreed to a coffee. When it was just the two of them, it catapulted him back to their high school days when they were inseparable – of the days when they shared absolutely everything. Nowadays their friendship was tamed by jobs, mortgages and his family life. They simply had grown up and that wasn’t a bad thing; it had just changed things between them.

Making his way into the kitchen area, he filled the kettle enough for two hot drinks and put it on to boil. He retrieved her favourite cup from the drainer and got the cup she’d purchased for him from the cupboard above his head.

Suddenly she appeared in his peripheral vision, causing him to turn to her and smile at the sulky teenage face she was wearing along with the newly designed shirt Oliver had sent her home with.

‘You were right.’ It stuck in her throat to admit. ‘Ollie is making me show more cleavage.’

He laughed and allowed himself to take an eyeful of the voluptuous breasts that were threatening to spill out of her shirt. ‘By this time next year that brother of yours will have all of you in bikinis.’

‘How am I going to be taken seriously if I keep letting my brother get away with treating me as if I’m a cheap appetiser?’

The amusement stayed present on his face. ‘You don’t have to wear it, you know.’

‘Of course I do; all the other girls are going to have to wear it.’

‘Then be their voice; challenge him on it.’

She thought through his suggestion for a split second and lifted her shoulders to portray more conviction than she felt. ‘You’re right. Tomorrow I’m going to march into his office and tell him I’m not going to wear it.’

Chris saw through her façade, and allowed her only a second of self-belief before he ruined it. ‘You’re not going to refuse to wear it, are you?’

Her shoulders slumped. ‘Probably not. However, I am going to beg him to consider keeping the old one, which is bad enough.’

He laughed again as she turned to go back to her bedroom and continue to change into her night attire. ‘You’re such a pushover.’

‘I’m not a pushover,’ her muffled objection came back at him. ‘I just don’t like to make a big deal out of nothing.’

She was right; she chose her fights carefully. She would only refuse to do things she absolutely wasn’t willing to do, she only entered into an argument if she knew – without a doubt – that she was right, and she didn’t challenge anyone on anything unless she knew she would win.

‘Did you get hit on tonight?’ Chris changed the direction of their conversation, with a slight elevation to his voice so he could be heard.

‘Not really,’ she shouted, sounding far away.

‘I guess that would explain why you’re on your own,’ he said, continuing to make them drinks – him coffee and her tea.

‘Saturday night is when I get the most action.’

‘You know you’re worthy of more than these guys use you for.’

‘Who’s to say I’m not using them?’ she responded, returning to his line of sight in her vest top and night shorts.

His breath caught in his throat momentarily. She only stood at five foot three tall in bare feet, with a bust almost too big for her tiny frame, although somehow it worked for her. If truth be told, he’d always found her attractive. Hers wasn’t an obvious beauty, like that of film stars, but she could render him speechless when she was at her most vulnerable, like now. She never looked more beautiful to him than when she had wiped off the subtle make-up she wore and was dressed down. He knew he shouldn’t be having those thoughts about her now he was married, but sometimes he couldn’t quash them.

‘God, you look terrible.’ He deflected his feelings, hoping they’d remain undetected.

She scrunched up her nose. ‘Oh, piss off – I look good when I’m tired.’

Her flippant comment made him smile because he knew deep down that she didn’t consider herself pretty; her failed love life had seen to that. He’d never known her to have a steady boyfriend, just a series of one-night stands. It was something he was glad of and unhappy about at the same time. He wasn’t sure how he’d feel about seeing her with a permanent man in her life, and yet he knew she was missing out on something wonderful, resembling what he had with Charlotte.

‘Have you made that drink yet?’ she asked, making her way to the settee and sitting down. He picked up both steaming cups and walked over to put them down on the coffee table. ‘The only drawback to working in a club is that you don’t go to sleep until stupid o’clock,’ she said.

‘That’s the only drawback?’ he questioned, sitting beside her and kicking off his shoes.

‘Well, that and the uniform,’ she answered, causing him to laugh as she placed her clean-shaven legs across his lap.

She watched as he instinctively ran his right hand up her left leg from ankle to knee and back down again, and got lost in the sensations his touch created in her. The pit of her stomach knotted, and the core of her femininity ached. Her focus clouded as she imagined his masculine hand sliding all the way up her thigh, parting her legs and slipping his fingers inside her, causing her to pant and cry out as he worked her body towards orgasm. She was aware her breathing had become heavier but almost instantly his voice snapped her out of her daydream. He snapped his fingers in front of her face. ‘Isobel!’

She swallowed down her fantasy. ‘What?’

‘Where did you disappear to?’

She wasn’t good at thinking on her feet, so decided to give him an element of truth in her answer. ‘I was in my bedroom with my vibrator.’

‘I can leave if you need a release.’

‘No, I think I’ll be able to hold off until you go home,’ she smiled. ‘Besides, it’s disheartening having to get off on my own. I should be married by now with a husband to fulfil those needs.’

‘You’re not exactly looking in the right places.’

‘I’m not exactly looking,’ she pointed out. ‘I spend most of my time at home, at the club or at the school dropping off your kids.’ Taking his daughters to school was something she had only started to do three years ago, when Charlotte decided to return to work; being their godmother, Isobel had been the only one able to help out.

‘Like I said: wrong places.’

‘There should be plenty of single men in two of those places willing to make an honest woman of me before they knock me up.’

‘There probably is, however, you’re picky about the people you let into your life for more than one night.’

‘You’re right, although I don’t know why I let you stick around for so long,’ she teased, picking up her hot cup of tea.

‘You couldn’t live without me. Who are you trying to kid?’

‘I managed for years while you were bettering yourself to become a firefighter.’

‘As I remember it, you were pissed up the whole time.’

She laughed. ‘Yes, but I made it through.’

There was a pause as she took a sip of her beverage and he soaked up the sound of her happiness lingering in the air.

‘So, on the way back you said you had an interesting shift,’ he remembered, raking a hand through his short mousy brown hair.

‘Oh yeah; I got asked on a date.’

‘By Harry?’

‘No, some new guy.’

The pit of his stomach hurt as if he’d been kicked between the legs. He was winded momentarily and had to muster up the breath to speak. ‘Is he a customer?’ he asked, feeling a twinge of jealousy. He knew he had no right to be jealous; nevertheless, finding out she was going on a date wasn’t easy, even though he wasn’t stupid enough to expect she’d be single forever. Her inner beauty always shone through her exterior attractiveness, which meant she got a lot of attention, but Chris had got used to her being emotionally detached from having anything too meaningful, only allowing men into her bed for a night.

‘He’s the new DJ Ollie hired.’

‘How long have you known him?’

‘About a week.’

‘And what do you know about this guy?’ he enquired, turning his head to give her his undivided attention.

Chris being overprotective was not new to her; in fact, at times it felt as if she was fighting a battle with two older brothers in order to have a life. Although this felt close to something else: as if it went deeper than just looking out for her best interests.

‘His name is Luke Dexter, he’s thirty-two years old and he’s a DJ, Dad.’

‘That’s all you know?’

‘Yes, and that’s what the date is for: to get to know him.’

‘There’s no need to ridicule me, Bell, I’m just looking out for you,’ he said, using his nickname for her.

‘It’s funny how you and Oliver keep saying that. But I’m thirty and have made it this far on my own without dating advice from either of you.’

‘Why do you think you’re still single?’ he asked, his voice laced with playfulness as he picked up his mug of coffee.

‘Hopefully my date with Luke will change that,’ she fired back, taking another mouthful of tea.

He sat in the silence of the room taking in the information he’d been given. His jealousy burned in his stomach and boiled in his throat, but he had to contain his need to declare his simmering emotions. He drank from his cup in an effort to force down the declaration on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t want to say anything he couldn’t act on because that would be selfish – he would be trying to stop her dating to keep her available for him, when he had a wife at home.

‘So, where’s he taking you?’ he asked, doing his best to appear nonchalant.

She shrugged. ‘All I know is he’s taking me to dinner and I’m kind of excited – I’ve never been to a restaurant on a date before.’

‘But you’ve been out to eat with guys before.’

‘To a burger bar on our way back to his place. But when I meet a guy at the club, usually the last thing we’re thinking about is eating,’ she said, compelling him to roll his eyes. ‘I think the only person I’ve been to a restaurant with is you, when I was celebrating my exam results.’

He searched back in his memory to that time and a smile met his lips. ‘That was the first time I saw you drunk.’

‘It was your fault – you kept plying me with champagne.’

‘You got A’s and B’s across the board, you deserved to celebrate.’

‘I was sixteen.’

‘Not according to the fake ID I got for you.’

‘Oh my God, that thing was awful. It looked nothing like me; I’m surprised it passed inspection.’

‘You used it more than once,’ he remembered.

She laughed. ‘Damn right I did! It got me into all the clubs until I was actually eighteen. It was the reason I was pissed up the whole time you were at college and university.’

‘And I have the drunk voicemails on CD to prove it.’

She was about to counter a response, but she was rendered speechless for a second before she could talk. ‘You have my messages on a CD?’ she asked, to be sure she’d heard right.

‘You bet I do – they’re good leverage if ever I want to bribe you for something.’

‘They’re not that bad, are they?’

He didn’t provide any assurances to the contrary. ‘I have one of you throwing up at the end because you didn’t hang up the phone,’ he said, making her pull a face of disgust. ‘And I have another one of you prattling on about how you were never drinking again because alcohol was the spawn of the devil. None of them made any sense but they were truly hilarious to listen to.’

‘Okay, I want that CD so I can destroy it.’

‘Good luck getting it; I don’t know where it is.’

Her eyes squinted over the top of the cup she held to her lips. ‘Why don’t I believe you?’

He laughed. ‘I don’t know, but it’s the truth.’

It was the truth; he’d lost it in the move from his parents’ home to the house he now owned with his wife. He remembered packing it, he just didn’t recall where he’d put it when he’d unpacked.

Of course, Isobel, being a naturally suspicious person, wasn’t going to believe him no matter what he said so there was no point in arguing. She was quite steadfast when she got something in her head, and it was hard to persuade her she was wrong. He’d learned that lesson back in high school when he was dating a girl who she was convinced was cheating on him. It wasn’t based on any substantial evidence, just a feeling in her gut. But she had been right, so he hadn’t doubted her since.

‘Okay, Chris, you can keep the disc because I’ve got all your indiscretions logged and catalogued, up here,’ she said, lightly tapping her temple.

He half-turned towards her to pierce through her self-assured exterior with his sea-green eyes. ‘What – exactly – do you think you’ve got on me?’

‘You mean apart from you borrowing my bra for your high school leavers’ disco so you could dress up as Ginger Spice?’

‘We were going as the Spice Girls and you were the only girl I knew with a bra big enough.’

She placed her empty cup on the coffee table and tucked her legs under her. ‘Oh, how about the time you fell asleep at our house and woke up with ‘dickhead’ written on your forehead in permanent marker that you couldn’t get off for weeks, no matter how much you tried to scrub it clean.’

He leaned his head on the back of the settee. ‘I still don’t know who did that to me.’

‘You shouldn’t have fallen asleep in a house full of drunken teenagers because you know that wasn’t just one person’s idea.’

‘So, you know who it was?’

‘Of course I know who it was – I was sober.’

‘Are you going to tell me?’

‘Hell no, it was nineteen years ago, you should be over it by now – besides, I’m not a snitch.’

‘Did you even try to talk them out of it?’

Isobel giggled. ‘Have you tried to talk a group of adolescents out of something once the pack mentality kicks in? It’s next to impossible.’

‘So that’s a no?’

‘You’re damn right that’s a no. I didn’t want to be their next victim.’

‘Your loyalty is astounding.’

‘Hey, I’m loyal. I just wasn’t willing to have matching marker tattoos for two weeks.’

‘And yet you weren’t above laughing at my unfortunate situation.’

‘That’s because it was funny. Besides, you made me fetch and carry for you for the fortnight because you wouldn’t leave the house. You got payback, believe me.’

‘Ah see, what you don’t know is that I was testing you to see if there was anything you wouldn’t do.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘Wow. I am learning all sorts of truths tonight, aren’t I?’

He put his arm around her neck and pulled her in close to his body. ‘C’mon, you know I don’t hide anything important from you.’

She rested her head on his chest and took the hug he offered. His arms always felt good around her, as if they belonged there. She could stay wrapped up in him forever, listening to his heartbeat and breathing in the way he smelled. She could tell he’d taken a shower at the fire station; he smelled the same as usual: of fresh deodorant with a hint of the shower gel he used. When they were together, she always felt safe; it consumed her down to her core. Her whole body relaxed and before she knew it her eyes were closed.

Chapter Two

The sun shone into the room through the window, directly onto Isobel’s face, causing her to stir. She tried to force her eyes open, but the daylight made her slam them shut again instantly. Then the pain came, in her neck and shoulders. It registered that she was still on the settee, resting her head on his chest. She began to move her body, slowly trying to stimulate herself for the day ahead. She lifted her head to look up at the man who had been her pillow for the night, to find he was still fast asleep. It brought a smile to her face. He looked so peaceful that she just wanted to place her head back down and soak up the moment. But they’d been there all night and she was sure his wife would be worried when she woke up to find out he wasn’t home. She peeled herself off his body and sat up, then gently nudged him. ‘Chris.’ She spoke softly, hoping to rouse him.

He didn’t move an inch. She sat staring at him, studying his features. He looked exactly the same way he had when she’d first met him; it was just the slight creases on his brow and around his mouth that gave away his age. His narrow nose was not as obvious as his strong jaw and dimpled chin, which set off his symmetrical face. As handsome as he was, what made him attractive was beneath the surface. He was soft-spoken unless he had to be authoritative, he would always go out of his way to help anyone in need, he was kind almost to the point where people would take advantage and he was generous with his time, as well as being an amazing father.

She found herself focused on his full soft lips and wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. She was tempted for a moment to take advantage of his unconscious state to find out, but the risk of him waking up was too high and there was no explanation she could give to justify her actions. Not wanting to wake him but knowing she had to, she took his large masculine hand in her petite one and used her thumb to create a circle on his skin. ‘Chris.’

Gradually he stirred, stretching his limbs as his eyes opened, and when he saw her it took too long for him to register where he was. He smiled. ‘Morning.’

She reflected his expression. ‘Morning.’

‘What time is it?’ he asked, licking his lips to try and cure his dry mouth.

She grimaced. ‘Eight o’clock.’

He seemed to wake up instantly and began fumbling in the front pocket of his jeans for his mobile phone. Retrieving it, he checked the screen to find he had several missed calls. It prompted him to jump to his feet. ‘Shit, Charley is going to kill me.’

‘Just tell her what happened.’

‘I’m not sure that’ll help,’ he said, picking up the shoes he’d kicked off, putting them on and kneeling to tie his laces.

‘She can hardly be mad that you fell asleep.’

‘It won’t be because I fell asleep, it’ll be that I fell asleep here that’ll be the problem.’

‘Oh yeah, I forgot, she doesn’t like me.’

‘Of course she likes you, Bell – she wouldn’t trust just anyone with our kids.’

‘Putting up with me because I’m your friend and she needs a babysitter isn’t the same as liking me.’

He got back up to his feet with a sigh and looked down at her where she sat on the settee. ‘Can we not do this now?’

She stood and tiptoed to kiss his cheek. ‘I’m sorry. Go home.’

He leaned forward to copy her action. ‘I’ll call you later,’ he said, rushing towards the front door.

She watched him grab his coat as he rushed out of her home and she spun on her heel to drop on the settee, heaving a sigh of frustration. She couldn’t have him to herself all day, because he liked to spend his weekends off with his daughters, but they’d had such a good night together and she knew he was going to be made to feel guilty about it by his wife when he got home.

Chris used his key in the lock and gingerly walked inside his house. He’d never spent the night away from his family unless he was working, and he knew the news of where he’d been was not going to sit well with Charlotte. She would undoubtedly question his relationship with Isobel, not for the first time in their marriage, and he imagined it wouldn’t be the last either.

He shoved his keys back into the pocket of the coat he didn’t bother removing as he made his way down the hallway to the kitchen. Walking through the door, he found her sitting at the table, sliding her thumb and forefinger down the length of her mobile phone as she turned it over and over. He immediately noticed the faint dark rings under her eyes from lack of sleep. Her shoulder-length dirty blonde locks were pulled back in a hair tie and she was wearing the leggings and long T-shirt she took to wearing once she’d put on a bit of extra weight around her stomach from carrying their children. She appeared dishevelled and worried, and he instinctively held up