didn’t know the end of. She prayed she was doing the right thing.
They made love again that night. It was like make-up sex, but laced with an almost desperate intensity – this was no petty argument to be brushed aside after all. She welcomed him into her eagerly, finding comfort in his touch, a reassuring recognition in his eyes. The sensations in her body drove out the disquiet, and afterwards, exhausted, she slipped away into sleep before her doubts could creep back.
In the morning, as she looked over at Rob, with his hair untidy and his limbs sprawled across their bed, it was hard to believe what he’d told her. She watched the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder blades, the calm abandon of his expression as he slept. Someone so perfect, and he’d chosen her …
But what had he done?
She sighed, pushing away the thoughts as she pushed back her hair, then slid her legs out from the warmth of the duvet, tentatively pressing her toes into the carpet. Now, as the Monday-morning routine kicked in, the drama of the last week seemed distant, uncertain. She yawned, waiting for the digits on the bedside clock to tick over. 6.59 …
… 7.00.
The alarm came to life, an insistent buzzing tone that cut through the quiet of the bedroom. She watched him stirring, saw his face crumple into a frown as he turned his head away, one arm lifting slowly as though suspended by a puppet string, searching for the snooze button.
‘Seven o’clock,’ she murmured to him, just as she always did when she woke first. There was comfort in routine. Leaving him to bury his face in the pillow, she stood up and walked through to the bathroom.
Had he really killed someone?
Somehow, the question didn’t seem quite so awful this morning. How could that be? Was it wrong that her horror was being diluted by curiosity? Leaning forward over the sink, she studied herself in the mirror, wondering all the while how it might have happened.
Maybe it was self-defence …
Perhaps he had been in a situation where he’d had no choice – kill or be killed.
She carefully applied a squeeze of toothpaste to the brush and glanced back up at her reflection.
Was it a woman or a man …?
A man, almost certainly. He had told her it wasn’t sexual, after all.
In the mirror her face looked calm. Thoughtful maybe, but strangely untroubled by the questions that occupied her mind.
Perhaps it had all happened a long time ago – something from his past, from before they met. A fight that got out of hand, or a terrible mistake? She visualised a number of different scenarios, trying to justify each notion to herself, wondering if any of her theories might be true. All the time being careful not to let her imagination roam too far.
She saw him appear behind her, movements still weary from sleep, eyes half closed as he drew close to plant a kiss on her bare shoulder.
‘Morning.’
She reached up, caressing his head with her hand as he put his arms around her, his hands clasped over her stomach.
‘Morning,’ she replied. Was she being naive about things, or bravely fighting to hold on to the relationship she’d always wanted? Whatever had happened in the past, it didn’t change how she felt about him right now. Cradling his head, she leaned it against her own, and watched as the couple in the mirror smiled back at her.
Despite waking second, he was out of the bathroom quickly and left the house before her. A meeting in Swindon or somewhere – she hadn’t really heard all the details as he’d called up to her from downstairs – so she’d have to drive herself to work today. It was as though nothing had happened, life was returning to normal.
Normal.
She’d chosen a smart navy jacket, but the matching skirt left her legs feeling cold as she stepped outside, pulled the front door shut and locked it. The sky was a sullen grey. There had been more rain in the night – a dry patch of tarmac indicated where Rob’s car had been – and she kept off the
They made love again that night. It was like make-up sex, but laced with an almost desperate intensity – this was no petty argument to be brushed aside after all. She welcomed him into her eagerly, finding comfort in his touch, a reassuring recognition in his eyes. The sensations in her body drove out the disquiet, and afterwards, exhausted, she slipped away into sleep before her doubts could creep back.
In the morning, as she looked over at Rob, with his hair untidy and his limbs sprawled across their bed, it was hard to believe what he’d told her. She watched the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder blades, the calm abandon of his expression as he slept. Someone so perfect, and he’d chosen her …
But what had he done?
She sighed, pushing away the thoughts as she pushed back her hair, then slid her legs out from the warmth of the duvet, tentatively pressing her toes into the carpet. Now, as the Monday-morning routine kicked in, the drama of the last week seemed distant, uncertain. She yawned, waiting for the digits on the bedside clock to tick over. 6.59 …
… 7.00.
The alarm came to life, an insistent buzzing tone that cut through the quiet of the bedroom. She watched him stirring, saw his face crumple into a frown as he turned his head away, one arm lifting slowly as though suspended by a puppet string, searching for the snooze button.
‘Seven o’clock,’ she murmured to him, just as she always did when she woke first. There was comfort in routine. Leaving him to bury his face in the pillow, she stood up and walked through to the bathroom.
Had he really killed someone?
Somehow, the question didn’t seem quite so awful this morning. How could that be? Was it wrong that her horror was being diluted by curiosity? Leaning forward over the sink, she studied herself in the mirror, wondering all the while how it might have happened.
Maybe it was self-defence …
Perhaps he had been in a situation where he’d had no choice – kill or be killed.
She carefully applied a squeeze of toothpaste to the brush and glanced back up at her reflection.
Was it a woman or a man …?
A man, almost certainly. He had told her it wasn’t sexual, after all.
In the mirror her face looked calm. Thoughtful maybe, but strangely untroubled by the questions that occupied her mind.
Perhaps it had all happened a long time ago – something from his past, from before they met. A fight that got out of hand, or a terrible mistake? She visualised a number of different scenarios, trying to justify each notion to herself, wondering if any of her theories might be true. All the time being careful not to let her imagination roam too far.
She saw him appear behind her, movements still weary from sleep, eyes half closed as he drew close to plant a kiss on her bare shoulder.
‘Morning.’
She reached up, caressing his head with her hand as he put his arms around her, his hands clasped over her stomach.
‘Morning,’ she replied. Was she being naive about things, or bravely fighting to hold on to the relationship she’d always wanted? Whatever had happened in the past, it didn’t change how she felt about him right now. Cradling his head, she leaned it against her own, and watched as the couple in the mirror smiled back at her.
Despite waking second, he was out of the bathroom quickly and left the house before her. A meeting in Swindon or somewhere – she hadn’t really heard all the details as he’d called up to her from downstairs – so she’d have to drive herself to work today. It was as though nothing had happened, life was returning to normal.
Normal.
She’d chosen a smart navy jacket, but the matching skirt left her legs feeling cold as she stepped outside, pulled the front door shut and locked it. The sky was a sullen grey. There had been more rain in the night – a dry patch of tarmac indicated where Rob’s car had been – and she kept off the
Similar Books
Breaking Clear (Full Hearts Series Book 3)
Mj Summers
Forgiving Lies
Molly McAdams
Support and Defend
Tom Clancy, Mark Greaney
Imperial Assassin
Mark Robson
From the Top
Michael Perry
Pan's Revenge
Anna Katmore
Bloodtraitor
Amelia Atwater-Rhodes
Lockdown
Walter Dean Myers