The Stranger Within (22 page)

              I look at him again now. Why doesn’t he just spit it all out? “Okay.” This doesn’t feel the way I thought it would. I don’t feel as if I’m being crushed by his words. I am numb to it all; perhaps blocking it all out until it explodes from me like a river bursting its banks.

              “But it was over way before I met you,” James continues. “And the only reason I didn’t tell you is because she still works with me. I just didn’t want any problems. In my head it was completely over. I have no feelings at all in that way for her. I just thought you might doubt me or worry about it if you knew. But I swear to you, nothing has happened since I met you.”

              It takes a moment for my brain to decipher what he has just told me. This is not what I have been expecting him to say. It is all wrong. “So…you mean you’re not sleeping with her? Now, I mean?”

              James snorts. “Ha, not a chance. I mean, I’m fond of her but it was over before it even started. For me, at least. I think I was just trying to get over Lauren. It was a mistake. You have nothing to worry about.”

              “But…the text? How can you explain that?”

              “She was apologising because she was a bit drunk and made some suggestive comments, but I put an immediate stop to that. Trust me, there is no way I’d do that to you.”

              “But what about the last part of that text?” I quote it back to him, the words still fresh in my memory. “‘But it was good, wasn’t it?’”

              “She must have been referring to when we were together years ago. Callie, I swear to you, our relationship is strictly professional now. I promise there is nothing going on. No way in hell.”

              I feel like I have been struck across the face. This changes everything. It makes what I have done with Rhys even more despicable. James has been innocent all along. He’s done nothing wrong, nothing to tarnish our marriage. His worst flaws are only his optimism and blindness where his sons are concerned. My whole body starts to shake and I can’t stop myself from crying. James wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him. “We’re okay. Everything’s okay.” He thinks I am crying tears of relief. He doesn’t know they are borne of guilt.

              We stay like this for a while until eventually I calm down. “We still need to sort out the boys,” James says. “But I’ve been thinking a lot about that. I know how hard it’s been for you so maybe we can all sit down together and, you know, thrash things out. Air any grievances. Obviously me talking to them on my own hasn’t helped, and I’m sorry. But
we’ll
make them listen this time, we’ll do it together. Do you think that might help?”

              “I don’t know,” I say, but quickly add, “I hope so.” James is really trying so being positive is the least I can do. He really believes there is a way forward for our family.

But with a sinking feeling, I know it is too late. Just like words, actions cannot be undone, and I can’t pretend Rhys doesn’t exist.

              James kisses me then, and it is both unfamiliar and recognisable at the same time. It is right. I cling to him, burying my face in his neck, hoping he won’t notice his t-shirt is becoming soaked in more of my tears. “Let’s go to bed,” he says, rising and pulling me up with him. I take a quick look at Jazzy, sleeping contentedly now, and walk with my husband back to the house.

              It’s quite dark now but as we approach the door, I glance up and see Dillon at his window, watching us. He moves away when our eyes meet.

We lie in bed for a while, even though it is not very late. He apologises again and each time I hear the words it’s like a knife piercing my skin. He has nothing to be sorry for. I am the one who has betrayed us all. And now, ironically, I am betraying Rhys by sleeping with James.

My phone, buried in the pocket of my jeans, vibrates for the third time since we came upstairs. I know without checking that it will be Rhys, wondering why I haven’t replied to his last text.

I tell James I need the bathroom and, sliding out of bed, pull on my jeans. I am right. All three messages are from Rhys. The first one says he misses me and the other two are asking if I’m okay. I sit on the floor by the side of the bath and start typing a response. Short and simple.
I’m fine. Just busy. Speak soon.
He will know something is wrong but at least it will stop him texting any more tonight.

I’m about to put the phone back in my pocket when it pings with a new voicemail message. I nearly ignore it – it will only be Rhys again and the thought of hearing his voice right now is too much – but curiosity gets the better of me.

The voicemail isn’t from Rhys. Instead, it is Max’s voice I’m listening to, saying something about the park last week, about the boy I was with.

Max telling me he knows that boy is not my stepson.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“I’m taking the day off work today.”

              I open my eyes and see James lying on his side, staring at me. He looks alert and I wonder how long he’s been watching me sleep. I ask him to repeat what he’s said, just in case I have misunderstood in my sleep-fuddled state. He rarely allows himself time off work.

              “It’s fine. I’ve already texted Tabby…Tabitha, and she’s getting a freelancer in to cover my shoots for the day. We need to spend some time together. Do something nice.”

              I rub sleep from my eyes and try to ignore the wave of anxiety I feel at the sound of her name. Surely now that James has explained himself, I shouldn’t feel threatened?

But it’s your paranoia. You can’t forget that she’s slept with him, even if it was before you met. She knows what your husband feels like.

“Thank you.” I sit up and lean against my pillow, trying to shrug off the doubts. I have no right to dwell on James’ past. “That sounds great.”

And just for a second I believe everything will work out. Until I remember Max’s voicemail. He is the real threat from the past because if he wants to, Max could destroy everything. And now I know that James still loves me, I will fight even harder to keep my marriage together. I won’t let Max, or anyone else, destroy us.

I have Max’s number in my phone now so I will call him back today to find out what he’s playing at. Despite what happened, he has no right after all these years to worm his way back into my life, especially not this way. I try to tell myself it is some kind of joke, that he is winding me up just to get me to speak to him. He has not been successful the other times he’s tried. But I know this is a fantasy. He is calling only because of what he knows.

              Then there is Rhys. I will need to speak to him, try to end things amicably; this is the least he deserves. But one thing at a time. I need to fix things at home first.

              “So,” James says, lifting up the duvet and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll wake the boys and tell them we’re going bowling. The four of us.”

              My heart sinks again. This is not what I thought he meant when he said we need to spend some time together. It’s too soon. But then I remember our agreement in the shed yesterday, and how I tried to believe confronting the boys together would help. I want to be optimistic, but there is no way the boys will suddenly accept me just because James wants it, just because he is embedding his latest lecture in a fun day out. In fact, if anything, they will resent me more when he confronts them right in front of me. Perhaps they will even escalate their hate campaign. But I will give them a chance and try to make this work. For James. For our family.

              I watch James pull on jeans and a polo shirt. I don’t deserve him. If he had any idea what I have done, he would throw me out and never look back. I have no doubt that his love for me is based on my loyalty, the picture of the person he thinks I am. When we said our vows, he would have had no idea I could be capable of such deceit. I had no idea myself. But still I can’t give him up. I will have to learn to bury my guilt. It will have to be yet another secret I am forced to keep from my husband.

“Maybe it’s best if you talk to the boys first, without me?” As soon as my words are out I regret them.

              James sits on the bed to pull on his socks. “But I’ve done that plenty of times.” He pauses. “Actually, you’re right. I’ll give it another go. Make them listen.” He smiles, as if he has solved a difficult puzzle, then jumps up and tells me he’s going down to make breakfast. There is lightness in his voice, as if a weight has been lifted from him. I only wish I could share his optimism.

              I take my time in the shower, putting off the things I have to deal with today. Rhys. Max. Bowling with Dillon and Luke. When I sit on the side of the bath to dry myself, I think of how reckless I have been. It doesn’t matter what I thought James was up to; nothing can excuse my behaviour. And now, when I remember the feel of Rhys’ mouth pressing against mine, it is not excitement I feel, but nausea.

              In the kitchen, James and the boys are finishing their breakfast when I walk in. Luke’s eyes flick to his father when he sees me, but then he murmurs a
good morning
. Dillon eventually does the same, while James beams at all of us as he sips his coffee.

              “Good morning,” I say, joining them at the table. It feels odd. Despite James’ pleasure, there is still something wrong. They will not give in this easily.

              “We’ve saved you some eggs and bacon. Your plate’s warming in the oven,” James says.

              The boys’ plates are empty but they make no move to get up when I sit down, as they usually do the minute I appear. Instead they sit like Stepford children, obedient and robotic, until I have finished eating. Nobody talks, but I notice the looks James gives them.

              “Can we go now?” Luke asks, finally losing his patience.

              James scowls. “Yes, but don’t forget we’re leaving at one. Okay?”

              Luke scrapes back his chair and springs up, eager to get back to his room. Dillon, taking out his phone, stands up too and I remind myself I need to give this a chance, that it’s only the first day of a fresh start and it will just take time. And I almost feel better, until I feel the hard impact of a shoe crashing against my shin. I stifle a yelp and turn to see Dillon hurrying out of the kitchen.

James’ head is buried in his newspaper so he saw nothing. I was right to be sceptical. Nothing has changed.

Later, when James heads to his study to work on his new website, I go outside to check on Jazzy. The shed has become my private space, the only one where I don’t feel claustrophobic, despite its size.

I call Max, but get his voicemail. Within seconds of hanging up, I receive a text from him.
Can’t talk now. Meet me this evening. 8pm in Kingston. We should talk. Will text address later.
I sigh heavily as I read; this is not going away. I will have to meet him and hear what he’s got to say. Whatever it is, I will tell him he is wrong. He can’t possibly know that Rhys isn’t Dillon. And even if he has managed to work it out, he can’t know I have been sleeping with him. But then I remember the shadowy figure walking past the car that evening, how I was so convinced it was Max. I need to come up with something plausible, just in case he saw us together.

              I take a deep breath and prepare to make my second call. Rhys has been texting all morning and I haven’t responded so he must know something is wrong. But I can’t end it over the phone, I need to speak to him face-to-face. I owe him that much.

              He picks up immediately, as if he has been staring at his phone, willing me to call. “Callie, finally! I’ve been texting you loads. Are you okay? I’ve been worried. Has Dillon done something?” He is talking too quickly and breathing heavily, as if he is pacing.

              “No, no, it’s nothing…I’ve just been really busy. Sorry.”

              “Good. When can I see you? I need to see you, Callie.” His voice sounds strange; his words are desperate but he delivers them as a command. Perhaps he has become so used to looking out for me, taking control, that now he feels he is in control of things. Of us.

              “Soon, I promise. We need to talk. I, um, got a message from Max, my ex. Do you remember him from last week?”

              There is a long silence and I wonder if we’ve been cut off until Rhys finally speaks. “What does he want?”

              I tell him about Max’s voicemail and text, and his breathing slows. He must have stopped walking. “He knows,” I say. “We need to –”

              “I don’t care if he knows, Callie. It was bound to come out sooner or later. We’ll get through this together. He just wants to meet up with you. He wants you back. You don’t have to go. Please.”

              Stunned by his response, I lose track of what I was about to say. “No, Rhys, listen. It can’t come out. Not like this. Do you understand what it will mean? I have to go and find out what he knows.”

              He falls silent again, but I can’t tell if he is contemplating how serious this is or whether he is just sulking. “Rhys, are you there?”

“Yep. So you’re seeing him tonight? Your ex.” It sounds as if he is talking to himself rather than me, getting it clear in his head. He is insecure, threatened by Max. Yet he has no problem with James, which is why I am only now seeing this side of him. Have I been so blind this whole time? How could I have thought he was mature?