The Affair

by Colette Freedman

  “Don’t,” he whispered.

  “You’ve seen them before.”

  “The day I get tired of looking at them is the day I’m dead.”

  But there were differences, huge differences between the two women. Kathy would never make coffee in the kitchen wearing nothing more than a flimsy robe. Kathy didn’t make him laugh anymore, didn’t arouse him anymore either. Stephanie did all of that, and more.

  But somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew that he wasn’t being entirely fair to Kathy; he worked hard with Stephanie, worked to make her laugh, to make her happy, bringing her little presents, small treats, occasional bunches of flowers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d brought Kathy a small present or a bunch of flowers.

  “Tell me what happened?” she said. “I presume it’s something to do with Jimmy, since you were fine—more than fine—when I left you a couple of hours ago. Is he okay?”

  “He’s far from okay. His life’s a mess.”

  “His life has always been a mess,” Stephanie remarked. “Honestly, I think he thrives on the drama. He’s an actor, remember?”

  “He’s not getting any younger. And this time the mess is bigger than usual. His wife’s finally giving him the divorce he’s wanted.”

  “Well, that’s good news. . . .”

  “And taking half of everything he owns.”

  Stephanie looked at him sharply. “Good for her. That’s her right.”

  “You heard that Frances, the girlfriend, had a baby?”

  “I heard something about it.”

  “Well, he’s going to marry the girlfriend and raise the child with her.”

  “So he should.”

  Robert shrugged noncommittally. He found he was vaguely uncomfortable with Stephanie’s reaction; she wasn’t exactly sympathetic toward Jimmy’s plight.

  “You don’t look so sure,” Stephanie observed, watching him closely.

  “Frances sold her story to the press. She used him to get free publicity, hoping she’d get that movie part.”

  The coffee started to percolate, and the rich aroma of Kenyan filled the small kitchen.

  “That was really the beginning of the end for him and Angela.” Robert sighed.

  “But he’s still with Frances,” Stephanie said, pulling open cupboard doors and taking out two packets of Stevia. “He went back to her, got her pregnant.”

  “You haven’t got sugar, have you?”

  Stephanie didn’t look at him as she poured the Stevia into the coffee cup. “Sugar is bad for you.”

  Robert shrugged. “Frances ruined Jimmy’s reputation in return for fifteen minutes of fame.”

  Stephanie laughed, the sound high and bright. “She did not. He had no reputation to ruin. So he was a big deal back in Dublin. So what? Here, he’s just another actor. And not even a good one, and actors are a dime a dozen. And he has a reputation as an alcoholic womanizer.” She handed Robert the coffee. “Everyone knows about him.”

  Robert accepted the mug from her hand. He sipped it, grimacing and yet relishing the harsh, bitter taste. “People know about us, Stephanie,” he said quietly. “Jimmy told me tonight.”

  Stephanie’s eyes met his for a long moment before she sighed. Then she poured herself a large glass of white wine and walked past Robert into the living room. In one deft movement, she curled up on the sofa, tucking her bare legs beneath her.

  Robert followed her into the room. “Did you hear what I said?” He sat down in the easy chair facing Stephanie. “People know about us.”

  The room was still, silent save for the sound of ghostly wind chimes coming from the CD player. Something about Stephanie’s stony demeanor and her reaction finally clicked: She hadn’t been surprised. He had been stunned when Jimmy had told him; her reaction should have been similar, unless . . .

  “You knew.” He was shocked and felt curiously betrayed. “You knew and you never told me.”

  “Yes, I knew.”

  Robert licked dry lips and drank deeply from the coffee. “How long . . . I mean, why didn’t you . . . what about your office?”

  “There have been rumors floating around about us for the last couple of months,” she said simply. “I ignored them. This business of ours thrives on innuendo and gossip. And when two people are regularly seen together, tongues wag, even if there isn’t truth to the rumors.”

  Robert groaned. His world was collapsing in on him, much faster than he had expected.

  “And your boss? Does he know?”

  “About a month ago, Charles Flintoff himself asked me outright if you and I were an item.”

  “You said no,” Robert said immediately.

  “I said yes.”

  Robert looked at her blankly, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

  “Having a relationship with you is one thing—he doesn’t give a damn about that. Putting business your way is another. But as long as everything was aboveboard, well, that’s still marginally okay. However, lying to my boss was out of the question. The very fact that he was asking me the question suggested that he already knew the answer. I told him the truth.”

  Robert was speechless. There were questions he wanted, needed to ask, but he could not formulate the words.

  “And it was the right thing to do. He had the contracts for the jobs I’d given you, plus the estimates. He’d done some comparisons with the other bidders and had gotten an independent assessment of the final result.” She shrugged. “He could find no fault with it.”

  Robert finally managed to find his voice. “So how many people know?”

  Stephanie frowned. “Jesus, Robert, I could have lost my job over this.” She looked at him hard. “Why? What’s the problem?”

  “Because if people know, then it’s only a matter of time before Kathy finds out.”

  Stephanie’s face became an expressionless mask. She concentrated on her wineglass.

  “I wanted to be in a position to tell her myself. When the time was right.”

  “And when would the time be right, Robert?”

  “When it’s right,” he muttered.

  “And when would that be?”

  Robert concentrated on his coffee. This was not going the way he had planned. On the drive over, he had rehearsed versions of the conversation he intended to have with Stephanie. He needed to explain to her that people in the business suspected that they were having a relationship and that, for the sake of her job, it might be best if they were to cool it for a while. They’d let things cool down, maybe not see one another for a few weeks or a couple of months, and then pretty soon people would forget. Stephanie’s revelation—that her boss knew and that she had admitted to him that the stories were true—changed all that.

  “We’ve been lovers now for eighteen months, Robert. Where do we go from here? What’s the future?”

  He had asked himself the same questions.

  “You’ve told me how unhappy you are at home. You suggested to me—no, more than suggested, you told me that you would leave Kathy. . . .”

  “I never said that!” he said immediately, a touch of panic clearly audible.

  “Maybe not in those words, but that was my clear understanding. I would never have gotten involved with you otherwise. You told me you would leave her when the time was right.”

  He heard the bitterness, the anger in her voice.

  He nodded briefly. He had said that. He remembered saying it. They’d spent the day in bed. He had been exhausted, a little drunk. He’d said a lot of things.

  “Well, when is the right time? This month? No, it can’t be this month because it’s Christmas, and you don’t want to ruin Kathy’s Christmas. Of course you have no trouble ruining my Christmas, but that’s another story. So, when? Next month? No, that’s the New Year, not an ideal way to kick off the New Year. What about February? No, that’s Theresa’s birthday, and that’s not the sort of gift you want to give your daughter. Do you want me to go through the whole year? Do you?!”


  He shook his head.

  “There is never a right time, Robert.” Stephanie suddenly stopped ranting. Then she sighed. “Look, I’m tired and feeling incredibly bitchy, and my period’s overdue. I don’t want to be having this conversation with you right now.”

  Robert nodded. He didn’t want to have it either. He had been shocked by the intensity in her voice.

  “I had a drink with Izzie earlier. . . .”

  “Does she know?”

  “Of course she knows! Do you think I could handle this alone? Without a girlfriend to confide in, to get advice from? Izzie’s been my rock; she knew from the very beginning. She was the first to know.”

  Robert squeezed his eyes shut. Who didn’t know?

  “And she warned me, right from the start, not to get involved with a married man. She explained to me exactly what would happen, and you know what? So far, she’s been right. Just spot-on.”

  “Stephanie,” Robert began. He was alarmed to see tears in her eyes. “Maybe this isn’t a good time. We’re both tired. Let’s get some sleep.”

  “I think that’s a really good idea.” She stood up smoothly, picked up Robert’s coat, and handed it to him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll talk.”

  She nodded as she walked him to the door, then she laid a hand on his arm. “I don’t want to think that you’ve been making a fool of me. I don’t want to think that you’ve been using me. Maybe I just want to think that we have a future together.” Then she leaned up and kissed him gently, brushing her lips against his. “Tomorrow. Tell me the truth.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” Robert said, tasting her lipstick on his lips, surprised by how husky his voice sounded.

  “Tomorrow,” she said, pushing him out the door.

  He headed down the stairs, out of the building, and walked over to his car. Robert hit the remote, opened the door, and climbed in without looking back. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he was facing the front door of the Victorian. Stephanie hadn’t even walked him down the stairs. Usually, she waited in the doorway until he drove off but tonight was different. The bedroom light in the cupola came on, warm and yellow against the drapes, and he saw her shadow move behind them. He knew what that bedroom looked like, knew what the bed felt like beneath his naked flesh. He waited a moment, wondering if she would look out. She didn’t, and the light flicked off, leaving only the twinkling Christmas lights to silently mock him. Robert stared at them until his eyes filled with tears and the lights fractured. “What a mess,” he breathed, the words white on the air before him.

  Brushing his fingers over his eyes, he turned the key in the ignition, and backed out and drove home.

  CHAPTER 27

  “I wasn’t sure if you were coming home tonight.” The voice whispered out of the darkness, startling him.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t wake me.”

  Kathy was awake. It was the perfect opportunity. Now or never. He could sit on the edge of the bed and tell her the truth, whispering his secrets into the darkness.

  And tell her what?

  Once he started to tell this story, he had to go right through to the conclusion. And he wasn’t sure what the conclusion was. Which version of the truth did he want to tell? It was the question that had gnawed at him on the drive home.

  Did he want to stay with Kathy, or did he want to go with Stephanie?

  He tugged at the knot in his tie, pulled it open, the raw silk hissing like a zipper, and threw it onto the chair by the nightstand. It slipped onto the floor.

  Of course, it wasn’t quite that simple. If he told Kathy that he’d been having an affair, would she still want him? He remembered how she had reacted when she had confronted him six years ago. Maybe if he admitted it to her now, she’d tell him to get out, and the decision would be made for him. Is that what he’d wanted all along? For Kathy to find out, for Kathy to make the decision? Robert squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly disgusted with his own cowardice.

  “I only had a couple of drinks, and the roads weren’t too bad.” He pulled off his suit jacket, folded it over the chair, and began to unbutton his shirt.

  “I called earlier.” Her voice was crisp and clear; she sounded wide awake.

  “I didn’t get it,” he said.

  “It went straight to your voice mail.”

  “We went to the Union Oyster House—bad place to get a signal.”

  Driving home, he’d thought about telling Kathy. But, Stephanie was right; it was too close to Christmas.

  Merry Christmas. Guess what, sweetheart? I’m having an affair.

  That was the emotional response. Then the rational part of his mind kicked in, asking him why he should tell Kathy anything. Simple. He wanted to get to her before anyone else did, so he could tell her the story in his way, give her his version. He was a spinmaster, someone who lied for a living: making toothpaste look whiter and apples look fresher; making marginally talented boy bands look and sound like Radiohead. Robert knew how to twist something to his advantage.

  Guess what? People are saying I’m having a relationship with Stephanie Burroughs. Remember her? She’s back, and she’s sent a lot of business our way. Business we really need . . .

  No. As soon as Kathy heard Stephanie’s name, she would guess the truth.

  And before he spoke to Kathy, he needed to talk to Stephanie again. He hadn’t liked the way the conversation had drifted this evening. Previously, their relationship had been lighthearted and fun. Sure, he’d always been vaguely aware that she expected more, but that was going to happen at some future date, some indefinable time when things would be different.

  Whatever that meant.

  Whenever that was.

  “How’s Jimmy?”

  “Jimmy’s fine. He sends his love.”

  “I’m surprised he remembered me.”

  “Of course he remembered you.”

  “So you didn’t get into Top of the Hub?”

  And there it was again, the probing suspicion. This was not paranoia brought on by the events of the day; this was something more, something definite. “I’m going to call and complain in the morning. They said there wasn’t a reservation.” This was probably the longest conversation they’d had in a long time.

  “That’s strange. Maureen usually doesn’t make mistakes like that.”

  “It may have been the temp who made the booking. Maureen’s out sick at the moment.”

  “You never told me!”

  He could hear the accusation in her voice. “Oh, I’m sure I did.”

  “You did not!” she snapped. “I most certainly would have remembered. I worked with Maureen, remember? How long has she been out sick?”

  “I dunno, three weeks . . . four,” Robert mumbled. Shit, shit, shit. Why had he opened his mouth and mentioned Maureen’s name? Now there was every possibility that Kathy would want to talk to her. And that was the last thing he wanted at this moment. He’d decided on the way home that he really needed to get to see Maureen before Christmas, bring her a little present, tell her about the new business that Stephanie had brought the company. And yes, buy her loyalty.

  “And you never told me. . . .” Her voice rose, and she lowered it again. “You never told me. I would have called her, visited her.”

  Christ, couldn’t she understand that he had a lot on his mind at the moment? Maybe if she’d shown more interest in the company, she’d have known about Maureen. Maybe if she’d shown more interest in him, he would not have had an affair. Maybe this was really Kathy’s fault. “I’ve been busy. I must have forgotten.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Chest infection or something. Doctor’s note says she won’t be back until January. And it’s the busiest time of the year.”

  “You make it sound as if she got sick deliberately. I can’t remember the last time she was ill. Can you?”

  Robert didn’t answer. He stepped into the bathroom, pulled th
e door closed, clicked on the light, and picked up his electric toothbrush. So what if she wanted to visit Maureen? He suspected that Maureen knew about his affair; shit, it sounded as if the entire industry knew about it. Even if Kathy got to her before him, Maureen was no fool. She knew the state the company was in, knew too that it was only the business Stephanie had sent their way so far that had kept them afloat and paid her salary. She’d keep her mouth shut. Still, it would be better if he could get to her quickly. Maybe tomorrow. No, Sunday maybe, or Monday. Maybe he’d call her. It wouldn’t do any harm to remind her—subtly—who paid her salary; at her age she wasn’t going to get another job as cushy as this. Maureen liked to think that her contacts in the business were second to none. But time was passing her by, and slowly, one by one, her contacts were becoming useless as her old friends were replaced by new people. Younger people.

  He’d call her in the morning because women, in Robert’s limited experience, stuck together. Like Stephanie’s meddling friend Izzie warning her off him in the first place; why didn’t she just mind her own business? If Kathy went to Maureen voicing some vague suspicion, God only knows what Maureen would say. Actually, it might be better if he popped by her place in the morning, maybe bring a bunch of flowers and a Christmas bonus. He nodded into the mirror. That’s what he’d do; it would keep her sweet.

  “Who’s the new receptionist?” Kathy asked when he came out of the en suite bathroom. White light flooded the bedroom, and he watched her raise her hand to shield her eyes. He quickly shut off the light.

  “A temp. Illona. Russian, I think. I got her from an agency. She’s very good.”

  “Maybe Illona made the reservation?” she suggested.

  Robert pulled out a fresh pair of pajamas and tugged on the top. “Maybe. But it was about four weeks ago; I’m pretty sure Maureen was still around then. It’s not a big deal. I’ll complain to the restaurant in the morning, if I get a chance.”