“And if I stop I will vanish into obscurity.” After tasting the fame and the adulation she didn’t want to lose it, not yet anyway.
“You can be obscure with me. We’ll buy an island and let the girls grow up wild while we do nothing but lie on a beach and you think up one hundred and one ways to cook with coconut and fish.”
That sounded tempting—no demands and no expectations—but she knew Fraser wouldn’t last any longer than she would. He needed to be busy. “You don’t fish.”
“I’ll learn. It can’t be worse than golf.”
“Lessons going well?” Mr Nichols had broken his leg in a cycling accident and was wheelchair bound. He was annoyed to be missing the tournament and Fraser had been roped into filling in because his brothers were unavailable.
He growled. “Stupid little ball. I don’t understand what my father sees in the game.”
“It’s for charity.” She smiled, knowing he wouldn’t grumble at the event; there he’d be, all smiles and cash. He was ever reliable.
He sighed, “So I keep being told.”
“You’ll be fine.” She kissed him again and went to pass so he could use the bathroom, but he stopped her by putting his arms around her waist.
“Did you mean what you said before, about there not being enough?” His hand slid lower to squeeze her butt.
“Sometimes it feels like we are simply bumping into each other and not actually with each other.” She glanced away, knowing that the problem could be solved if she stopped working—not that Fraser would ever suggest that. “I have to go to Melbourne for three days next week.”
“TV?”
“And interviewing for Footprint. But you could come down for a day or two?” She hoped he could. It would be a nice break for them both, even if she was working for some of it.
“Let me check.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up his calendar. “If I shift two meetings I can. A day and a night all to ourselves…what will we do?”
“Probably sleep.” She’d be back just in time to take her turn hosting the biweekly dinner party for the women who formed her social circle—drawn together by privilege and money if not actual friendship.
He laughed. “I see you have a blank the Wednesday after… did you want to meet up? There’s that 1920s style whisky bar we haven’t tried yet. It’s meant to be good.”
“You aren’t suggesting stockings with seams up the back and a shady detective, are you?” That could be an interesting game, and more importantly they could put the kids to bed and then go out and have some fun.
“I wasn’t, but I am so there. You want to lead that one?” He smiled, a devilish glint in his eyes, as if he was already imagining the things they could get up to.
“Sure.” All she’d have to come up with was a bit of an idea about what game they’d play, what she wanted and how best to lead him astray. Thinking about it was half the fun—on either side of the game. Expectation was a powerful aphrodisiac. As always, though, they’d meet up, and if one of them was just too tired they’d have a few drinks and go home. Taking their rings off was always the sign that the game was on. But another date squeezed in at the edges wasn’t what she wanted. “Perhaps we should start booking in our time first, instead of waiting for meeting gaps?”
“We can do that.” He kissed her slowly, his tongue flicking over her lips before she opened her mouth to him. Desire rose slowly…perhaps they could fall into bed and extend the evening’s pleasure.
He drew her closer and she pressed against him, her nipples pebbling.
“I have a spare couple of minutes now, if you’re interested,” he said against her lips. He drew her closer so she could feel the length of his shaft pressing against her stomach.
“Is that right?” She wiggled her hips. Who needed a bed when there was a perfectly good bathroom vanity?
The sound of little feet running down the hallway and into their bedroom pulled them apart.
Fraser cursed. “I swear they can tell.”
“Oh yeah. They come with a parental mischief radar.” Sometimes it didn’t take anything more than a kiss and the vague hope that something would happen, other times they were halfway there—those were the worst—when one of the girls woke up.
“There’s tiger under my bed.” Eva clutched her toy bunny. Her hair was a blonde fluffy nest around her head and her eyes were wide.
By the time they got Eva resettled, they’d both just be wanting to sleep. As she picked up her almost four year old, she reminded herself that this bit wouldn’t last forever. She kissed her daughter and started calming her down.
“I’ll go and sort the tiger out. He knows he’s only allowed to sleep in the lounge room.” So far telling the tiger to get out had been the only thing that worked and even then it was hit and miss. There’d been more than one night when they’d woken up and Eva was in bed with them. At least Tilda was still in a cot and unable to roam the house. She kissed the top of Eva’s head, glad that her daughter came to her before the nanny.
Meagan smiled at Fraser’s back as he walked away. While they may not have much time for each other at the moment, what time they did have was precious, and they both knew that.
Meagan wiped her hands on the tea towel and gave everything a final check. She was as organised as she was ever going to be. As much as she liked all the girls coming around to her place, it was also nerve-racking. She knew some would be looking at the house, checking for stray toys or dust bunnies—all of which had been whisked away by the nanny and the cleaner.
The doorbell chimed and Meagan checked her appearance in the large mirror in the hallway before answering. New haircut, new earrings. The cream linen shift dress smoothed over the imperfections. Another month with her personal trainer—maybe two—and she’d be back in shape. It was that much harder to do with the second child—but she was also older and busier.
“Jorja!” She leaned in and they kissed the air next to their cheeks. “You’re here first.” For which she was grateful. But she had made the effort to arrive on time for Jorja’s turn too. Strength in numbers. Some of the women who’d been born with hundred dollar bills lining their nappies still kept the others at arm’s-length. Camilla was still struggling to find her feet in the circle.
“No kids and no Fraser?”
“He’s taken them to see his parents.” And wouldn’t be back until tomorrow—which gave her a sleep-in. She was looking forward to that more than tonight’s dinner.
“Mr Nichols still in the wheelchair?”
“Another two weeks.” That was the best-case scenario. Breaking his femur at seventy by stacking his bicycle wasn’t great. “Fraser has to fill in for him at a charity golf tournament. Neither of them are impressed with that.”
“I can imagine.”
Meagan poured Jorja a glass of wine, knowing it didn’t matter what she gave her as Jorja wouldn’t drink it. It was a social prop.
She’d barely taken her first sip when the doorbell rang again and Emma and Willow filed in. Emma forced a smile. Meagan knew something was wrong but they had drifted so far apart she couldn’t ask.
Ten minutes later everyone had arrived. As usual, Lana was glitzed up to the nines, making sure everyone knew she had money. Meagan had to admit that in the first few years it had been fun to dress up, but as she’d gotten used to the lifestyle—totally alien to the way she was raised—it had been easier to adopt a simple, classic look and spend the money on quality shoes, handbags and jewellery. She’d also realised that Fraser never made splashy shows. However, the price of his suits would have made her father cringe. While once she’d never have believed that tailoring mattered, seeing Fraser in his suits still made her heart take a little tumble.
“Whatever you are cooking smells amazing,” gushed Willow.
“You’re getting to sample some of the autumn menu for Edesia.” She knew Lana would probably only pick at it, as she was fussy with everything that she put in her mouth, regardless of who cook
ed it.
Virginia gave her a cool smile. “And no doubt you’ve been cooking all day.”
Meagan could read between the lines of that backhanded compliment. Once it would’ve flustered her. Now she knew Virginia was looking for a bite. “Actually, no. I had one of the apprentices do all the prep work while I took the kids to the park.” It was nice to be just another mother at the park. Anonymous. “Before we get started, I have exciting news.” Meagan grinned.
“On my God, you’re pregnant again!” Emma’s face fell and she looked as though she was about to cry. She’d failed to get pregnant after having her first eleven years ago, and babies were a sensitive topic. Emma needed a focus in her life beyond her husband and her desire to have another child.
Meagan missed Emma as a friend—they had both struggled to fit into this group at first—and she raced to reassure her. “No! We’re done with babies. We’re opening a second restaurant. We signed the paperwork yesterday to buy the property.” Fraser wanted that property regardless of whether she did. It was a sound investment, apparently. When it came to things like that she let him take the lead.
There were some congratulations, smiles and nods. About what she’d expected. Not all of them would be thrilled.
“And when are you going to have time for this new venture?” Nella sipped her wine with one perfectly manicured eyebrow arched up in question.
“I will be supervising, not actually cooking.” She was going to take her hands off the wheel…a little. Fraser had agreed with that decision. “I’ve already hired a top Melbourne chef for Footprint.”
Lana would’ve frowned if her face still had that mobility. “Footprint? What kind of a name is that?”
“A perfect one—for a beachside, vegetarian place with paleo options. We’re planning to make sure it leaves a very small ecological footprint.” It was almost the opposite of Edesia. Again all the paperwork was done and the name was theirs. They always had the paperwork in place before announcing new ventures.
“Oh, so not fine dining?” Nella said with a sniff.
“No, more relaxed.” Footprint would be a place she could take her kids. Trendy, specialised and friendly. She liked new challenges, but she also had to remember to let go of the reins. She didn’t have to micromanage everything. That was why she hired awesome people. And if she repeated that to herself enough times she might start to believe it. Stepping back was a good thing. She just had to look at what she was gaining—time with her kids and hubby.
“A book, two restaurants, two kids: it’s a wonder you have time for poor Fraser,” Lana said, her mouth turned into a moue of mock sympathy.
To that, Meagan just smiled. She knew exactly how to have the perfect affair with her husband. While they may not have spent as much time together as they used to, the time they did have was precious and the flame had definitely not gone out.
“Just make sure that if his eye starts to wander, you see Marc. He’ll nip and tuck all the right places.” Christa said with a wink. “You do have that gorgeous nanny living here.” While Christa didn’t have that petrified look of a woman who’d had too much work done, her skin was a little too flawless for her years. A little life experience on your face was nothing to be afraid of. Maybe in another ten years Meagan would feel differently, but her career was built on what she did, not how she looked.
Meagan sipped her wine and wondered what Christa got up to when her husband wasn’t looking. That wasn’t the first time she had mentioned the nanny, and Christa had only seen her a couple of times.
However Meagan wasn’t worried about Fraser and the nanny. He’d complained more than once that the only thing he could talk to her about was the children, because they had nothing else in common. Fraser liked to be surrounded by smart people who were ambitious. That was why he’d pursued her ten years ago. He’d seen something in her and had wanted everyone else to see it too.
As she looked around at her social circle, some of them friends, some of them more tolerated acquaintances, she realised that she had made it. When she’d first joined this circle she’d been Fraser Oxley-Nichols’ working wife. They’d invited her because of him and she’d been on the fringes, like Camilla was now. She smiled at Drake Jackson’s young wife and vowed to make more of an effort to include her. There was no time like now to start.
She wandered over to join Camilla, Willow and Emma and listen to Darla’s dating woes. So far it had been one bad date after another. It made Meagan very grateful that she’d already met and married the man of her dreams.
“He was name-dropping the whole night.” Darla took a sip of wine.
“He just wanted to prove he was well connected?” Some people did that, but it also showed a level of insecurity to be doing it on the first date. Camilla was willing to give everyone a chance, or two.
Darla shook her head. “Oh, that I could’ve dealt with. No. He was naming the big name women he’s allegedly slept with.”
Emma scrunched up her nose. “Ew, like a résumé?”
The only thing worse than a man who got around was one who boasted about it. The women he had slept with would no doubt be mortified if they knew he was naming them.
Darla grinned at Emma. “Exactly. He thought I should be impressed by the list.”
“Then you’d be on the list,” said Meagan. For all the glamour and diamonds in the room, they were still a bunch of women getting together to gossip. Some things didn’t change, regardless of social status.
When she’d first picked up her knives, she could never have imagined where she’d end up. She was part of Sydney’s elite. She was a respected chef and celebrity in her own right. And she had a husband to enjoy that success with. Fraser had backed her dream and that was worth more than any diamond.
Meagan
by Shona Husk
Epilogue
Meagan checked that the seams on her stockings were straight for the tenth time. They were of course. The last time she’d met Fraser at the bar pretending to be a twenties style speakeasy they’d had a couple of drinks and gone home with their wedding rings firmly in place. They’d both been too tired. Then both kids had been sick…then she and Fraser had been sick as it so often went.
Once again their lives had run away with them and was holding their love life hostage. A breeze slid around her legs and under her dress. She automatically eased her hand over the fabric to make sure it didn’t flap and reveal her bare butt to the street.
Wearing no panties had seemed like a really good idea when she’d got dressed.
She’d been looking forward to this night more than she’d looked forward to the opening of the new restaurant. Her smile had hidden her nerves and the stress of the lead up. But it was done now.
At the plain black door she knocked. A panel slide open and she gave tonight’s password. Fraser had managed to get hold of it before she had. That meant he had control of the game. That had annoyed her because she’d had it last time and the evening had fizzled. And while it happened it still felt a little like her fault.
The doubts were back spinning in her stomach. Why was it so hard to find time to be with her husband? Even though they now blocked out time for themselves it often felt too cold and premeditated.
She swallowed her fears as the door opened. At first glance it looked like a little art deco restaurant, but she wanted the bar that was deeper in. She walked past the diners. Her black dress wasn’t vintage but it was drop waisted and beaded in all the right places. It looked the part and anyone watching would assume that she was getting in to the spirit of the place…it was a good thing they didn’t know why she was here.
At the back of the restaurant was a curtained door.
The man at the door looked at her and smiled as he swept it aside revealing the bar in the next room.
Her breath caught. Fraser was already here; he’d sent her a message to confirm twenty minutes ago. She scanned the room looking for him. Each breath getting tighter. He had to be here.
&nb
sp; Her gaze snapped back to a man seated in a corner booth with his back to her. His dark hair curled against his charcoal grey jacket collar. A matching hat rested on the table and he was drinking alone.
The tension eased a little.
Then she noticed that there was no ring on his finger. Her heart gave an extra beat. He was here to play.
She sashayed over, her fingertips brushing his shoulder for a second before she eased into the seat opposite.
The fabric of her dress slid over the skin of her butt reminding her again that she had no panties on. He didn’t know that, not yet anyway. She took a breath to centre herself.
“Drinking alone?” She smiled.
Fraser’s gaze lowered to her hands. She was still wearing her rings.
“Maybe. What makes you think I need company?” He turned the glass as though considering, but the faint smile on his lips gave him away.
“All men are looking for company,” she purred as she tried to slip into the role of seductress. This is what Fraser had wanted…
“What if I want more than just company?”
She considered him for a moment. Here they were playing games when they knew what the outcome would be. Part of her wanted to grab his hand and drag him to the nearest hotel. But she couldn’t deny the shimmer of pleasure that raced through her body. She liked the games they played. Not being themselves was liberating.
“We could come to some arrangement.” She picked up his glass, gave the ice a swirl and then took a sip. The whiskey burned all the way down then heat blossomed in her stomach. “I might have a use for a man like yourself.”
Fraser reached out and touched the rings on her finger. “Is that right? I wouldn’t want there to be any trouble.”
She smiled. “There won’t be.” This wasn’t the game they had planned the first time they’d come here. Fraser had changed it. She wouldn’t have…but she’d agreed to this. Slowly she slid her rings off.
His lips curved.
Fraser watched as Meagan removed the rings he’d placed on her finger. For most people that wouldn’t be a good sign. For him it was a sign that the good times were just about to start. Blood rushed from his brain to his dick.
Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Extended Edition Page 20