* * *
The sun was long gone and the reflection of the outdoor heaters at Opera Bar rippled on the opaque surface of the harbour water. Tom had been drinking whisky for what seemed like hours and his head was muddled. After he’d joined them, his colleagues had disappeared to the bathroom to snort lines of coke off the back of a toilet, but he’d declined, despite their good-natured jeers about uptight Adelaidians.
‘Is this seat taken?’ said a voice by his elbow.
Tom looked around, ice clinking against the side of his glass. A woman in a white shirt and green skirt stood beside him. She looked like she’d come straight from the office, her hair and make-up still perfect even at this hour of the night. She was probably in her mid-thirties; dark haired, attractive in a square-edged kind of way. He gestured to the empty stool beside him, but rather than take it away to another table, she smiled and wiggled her way onto it. Tom was taken aback. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now.
‘I’m Rachel.’ She offered him her hand to shake.
‘Tom.’
She sipped her cocktail—something fruity with a red umbrella in it—and eyed him over the top of her glass.
‘So what are you doing here on your own on a Thursday night?’ she asked.
Tom saw her gaze slide over the wedding band he still wore. He wanted to make some excuse, say he was about to leave, but he didn’t want to seem rude. ‘My friends buggered off. I’m waiting for them to get back, then I’ll probably hit the sack.’
Her eyes sparkled in the dim light. She smiled suggestively. ‘Was hoping for some time in the sack myself tonight.’
Tom gave a nervous laugh. He was still unaccustomed to the forwardness of select professional Sydney women. They knew what they wanted, and they weren’t interested in playing games. If he’d been single—truly single—he would’ve loved it. There was something sexy about a confident woman who’d proposition a stranger within minutes of meeting them.
But Tom didn’t feel single. Even if he weren’t still married to Ali, his heart was tied to hers. Until tonight, he’d thought— hoped—she felt the same way. But after the way she’d acted on the phone… she’d sounded guilty, as if there were something she was afraid to tell him. And as far as Tom was concerned, that could only mean one thing. He tossed down the rest of his scotch.
‘Would you like another drink?’ he asked Rachel.
‘Thanks.’ She raised her almost-empty glass. ‘Mai Tai, please.’
Tom’s brain warred with itself while he waited at the bar for their drinks. He’d felt no spark of attraction to her, and yet he couldn’t deny that he was horny as hell. It’d been almost three months since that night with Ali, and the memory was no longer an adequate alternative to his loneliness. The bartender came over and Tom banished the thoughts that raced through his head.
Rachel smiled when he set her Mai Tai down in front of her. ‘Thanks, Tom.’
As he settled back onto the other bar stool, he noticed that she’d moved it closer to hers while he’d been gone. ‘So, do you come here often?’ He grimaced and slapped himself on the forehead. ‘I can’t believe I actually said that.’
She laughed. ‘I live around the corner. So yeah, I come here often. Where’s your wife tonight, Tom?’
Tom opened his mouth then shut it again. ‘She’s… We’ve separated.’
She tapped a red fingernail on his wedding band. ‘Old habits die hard, huh?’
He pulled his hand away. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Relationships usually are. That’s why I tend to avoid them as a general rule. Uncomplicated is more my style.’
‘Cheers to that.’ Tom raised his glass and she clinked hers against it.
‘What do you do, Tom?’
‘I’m a partner with Grange Jefferson,’ he said.
‘Another lawyer! You guys pretty much keep this place afloat.’
‘You?’
‘Accountant.’
Now it was Tom’s turn to laugh. ‘So that’s why you go out to bars and talk to strange men.’
‘Gotta get my excitement somewhere.’ Her hand landed on his thigh. ‘Besides, I only talk to strange men I’m interested in.’
Tom gulped. The heat of her hand burned through his trousers. He wasn’t ready for this. He pictured Ali sitting at home, watching whatever crap was on TV on a Thursday night. Alone. No glass of wine in her hand, because she couldn’t drink. He was about to remove Rachel’s hand from his leg when the image changed, and he imagined another man there with Ali, pointing the remote control at the TV to turn it off as he pushed her down onto the couch. Kissing her, touching her breasts; her fingernails raking down his bare back as they fucked on the couch Tom and Ali had bought together. He let out a soft groan that Rachel must have mistaken for desire, because she moved her hand up his thigh and traced her finger over his groin. His cock stirred despite his best intentions.
Rachel leant in close to him. Her warm breath feathered his ear. ‘How about we go back to my place?’
Her hand lingered on his balls just long enough to set Tom’s heart racing, then she withdrew it and jumped down from the stool, allowing her full breasts to brush against his arm. Tom wanted to say something, slow things down a bit, but she was already winding her way through the other tables towards the exit, not looking back, expecting him to follow.
And Tom followed.
He thought he heard someone call his name as he walked out, but his feet kept moving, one in front of the other, of their own accord, and he didn’t look back. His head was thick, his vision shadowy as he walked by her side along Circular Quay. He was more drunk than he’d realised. Was he really going home with an accountant called Rachel whom he’d only known ten minutes? But she’d made it clear she wanted him, and Tom hadn’t felt wanted for such a long time. Ali lived in another state. They were separated, and she’d shown no sign of wanting to change that status. She’d rejected both his offers of reconciliation. It would hardly be cheating.
Still, he paused when they reached Rachel’s apartment building. It didn’t feel right. ‘I’m not sure about this.’
She glanced back at him as she swiped her access card for the lift. ‘Let’s be clear here, Tom. I don’t care about the status of your marriage. I just want to fuck you.’
A jolt of desire shot through Tom, but still he hesitated.
Rachel stepped into the open lift and turned to face him. ‘Are you coming or not?’
Again Tom’s mind brought up the image of Ali with another man, and he stepped in after her. At once Rachel grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his face down to hers. She tasted fruity from the Mai Tai. Her lips were fuller than Ali’s, and their mouths didn’t fit together in the same way. Tom banished the comparison by pushing her back against the handrail and kissing her hard as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. By the time the lift door opened onto the fifteenth floor, his hand was inside her lace bra. Not bothering to re-button her shirt, Rachel walked out of the lift and thrust her key into the lock of the nearest door.
Tom hung back. If he went in that apartment, there would be no undoing it. Rachel glanced over her shoulder at him.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t…’ Tom began. ‘I don’t think I should do this.’
She turned around to face him. ‘It’s up to you, Tom. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I won’t be offended. But it looks to me like you want to very much.’ Her gaze dropped to the tent pole in his pants.
‘I don’t have any condoms.’
She laughed. ‘You’re the first married guy I’ve met who doesn’t. Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty.’
She opened the door and backed into the apartment, shedding her shirt and unhooking her bra.
Ali
Ali tossed restlessly in her bed. Somehow, all this time she’d managed to justify her silence about the baby. First, because she’d expected to miscarry. Second, when Tom had accused her of drinking again. Then because he seemed so happy li
ving in Sydney that she hadn’t wanted to turn his life upside down again. And finally, because she’d left it so long that she no longer knew how to bring it up. But after the conversation they’d had earlier that evening, she knew there were no justifications left.
The hurt in his voice when she’d made that ridiculous excuse not to visit him had been the final straw. She should have told him right then, but instead she’d panicked and acted like she just couldn’t be bothered. Like she had better things to do. He’d reached out to her, made it obvious that he wanted to take things further, and that’s what she wanted too. But how could she face him after she’d kept something so important from him for so long?
Tomorrow she had her twelve-week ultrasound. After that, she was going to call him and tell him the truth. She caressed her belly, already so much larger than the same stage of her pregnancy with Elizabeth.
Tomorrow, everything would be out in the open, and then Tom could decide whether he still wanted to be with her.
Tom
Tom’s head was heavy when he woke, his tongue furred, lips dry. He shifted and stretched his legs out. His foot hit warm skin. He opened his eyes.
Rachel was splayed across the bed, still asleep, a long tendril of her dark hair trailing over his chest. A growing horror spread over him, cold and grasping. He sat up. He could remember nothing of what had happened after he’d walked into her apartment last night.
What had he done? He’d asked his wife—his wife—to come and stay with him in the hope of reconciliation, and when she hadn’t immediately jumped at the chance, he’d gone right out and fallen into bed with a stranger. How stupid he’d been, automatically assuming she was involved with someone else. He’d dressed it up as loneliness and physical need, but the fact was that he’d just taken petty revenge for the transgressions Ali had made in his own imagination. He buried his head in his hands.
‘Morning.’ Rachel’s voice was husky with sleep. She reached out a hand to touch his chest.
‘I have to go,’ he said.
‘It’s still early. Now you’ve slept off your booze, maybe we could try that again, see if you can follow through this time?’ Her hand fluttered down his stomach.
Tom scrambled backwards and away from her. He was still wearing his pants. But Rachel was completely naked, he discovered, as she sat up and leant back on her hands. He looked down, flustered. ‘You mean we didn’t…?’
‘Sadly, no. You were too drunk, or too melancholy… not sure which.’
‘Oh, thank Christ for that.’ Tom hung his head in his hands and Rachel gave a throaty laugh. He looked up at her guiltily. ‘Sorry.’
She shrugged. ‘You win some, you lose some.’
The relief was so strong he was almost drunk on it. Or maybe he was just still drunk. ‘It wasn’t you… I still love my wife.’
‘Yeah, no shit. You didn’t stop talking about her.’ Rachel glanced down at his groin. ‘Pity, though. You had a lot of potential.’
Tom got up from the bed abruptly, his temporary relief banished. ‘I have to go,’ he said again. He picked up his shirt from the floor and slipped it on.
Rachel lay down again, her hair spread across the pillow. ‘You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about, Tom. We just had a bit of fun, that’s all. There was no P in V.’
Tom’s face felt frozen. He held up a hand in farewell, then escaped the bedroom. His shoes and socks were near the door, but he didn’t want to stay in the apartment a moment longer, so he carried them in the lift and paused in the lobby to put them on. It was a chilly morning, and he began to jog up the footpath to keep warm. He wasn’t dressed for a run, but once his muscles warmed up he pushed himself harder and harder. When he reached his apartment building he kept going, trying to sweat out the betrayal, outrun his remorse. By the time he turned for home he was drenched with sweat and gasping for breath. There were blisters on his feet.
He stood under the shower for a long time. There may not have been any P in V last night, but he still felt filthy. His stomach churned, whether from his burgeoning hangover or revulsion at what he’d done, Tom didn’t know.
Work was a welcome relief. For the first couple of hours, he was able to bury himself in meetings and phone calls and legal briefs, but it wasn’t long before thoughts of Ali crowded in. No matter how he tried to justify it to himself, he’d gone into that apartment with the intention of getting laid. Was this his future if he stayed in Sydney? A string of meaningless encounters with women he didn’t care about?
Since the day they’d met, Ali was the only one he’d wanted, and he still wanted her now.
He called his assistant into his office. ‘Frieda, could you cancel my meetings for the rest of the day? I need to go to Adelaide.’
She looked confused. ‘Do you need me to book flights for you?’
‘No, no, it’s a personal trip,’ he said. ‘Family emergency.’
Concern crossed her face. ‘Everything OK?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Will you be back on Monday?’
Tom hesitated. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.’
Before
Tom felt ridiculous for being so nervous. He’d never been so sure about a decision in his life, and yet he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he pulled the last bottle of red wine out of the box and placed it on the service table with the others.
Jason glanced at him as he added the remaining bottles of bubbly to the large ice chest the rooftop venue had provided. ‘Don’t worry, man, I was exactly the same on my wedding day.’
Tom grinned. ‘I remember. I thought I was going to have to tie you to the altar.’
‘And now look at me and Anthea. Expecting twins. That could be you guys in a few years’ time.’
Tom wasn’t so sure about that. Ali continued to insist that she didn’t want children. At first he’d agreed with her, but ever since they’d bought their little house in Parkside with the silver birch tree in the backyard, he’d been thinking about it more and more. But there was plenty of time for that. They were young. They had their whole lives ahead of them.
Tom distracted himself from his nerves by greeting the guests as they arrived. And before he knew it, Anthea came over and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Ali and Kayla are about to come up.’
Adrenalin that was equal parts terror and excitement surged through Tom. Anthea grinned at him. ‘As soon as you see her, all your doubts will disappear.’ She wrapped him in a hug, her enormous pregnant belly pushing against him.
‘I don’t have any doubts!’ Tom protested, but Anthea just gave him a little push to where Jason stood with the celebrant.
‘Ready?’ his friend asked.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’
The music he and Ali had chosen started up and the doors opened to reveal Kayla and, behind her, Ali. Her eyes met his and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach quietened. It hadn’t been nerves at all. He’d just needed to see her. The invisible thread between them tightened, strengthened, bound them together. And now she was walking towards him, about to become his wife, and there was nothing in the world that could sever that thread.
Ali
Ali took Hazel with her to the ultrasound, and her mother couldn’t suppress her delight at the shadowy image of her grandchild shifting around on the screen.
‘I can’t believe how clear it is,’ she marvelled. ‘Technology is amazing.’
‘Didn’t they do ultrasounds when you were pregnant with me?’ Ali asked.
‘Well, I had one, but I might as well’ve been carrying a bloody kangaroo in there.’
‘Ultrasounds weren’t routinely used in pregnancies back in the seventies,’ Amelia said. ‘You clean yourself up, Ali, and I’ll print off some pictures for you.’
She handed Ali a box of tissues and turned away. Ali eyed Hazel as she wiped the gel off her belly and pulled her top down. ‘Looks like you could use one of these too.’ She held out the box. ‘What’s
up with you?’
Hazel took a tissue and dabbed at her eyes with a lopsided smile. ‘I’m just happy you shared this with me, love. I never thought I’d get the chance to see my grandchild.’
The cold blade of resentment sliced into Ali. ‘You did get the chance, actually.’
Hazel’s expression faltered.
‘I didn’t want to tell you when I got pregnant with Elizabeth,’ Ali said icily. ‘But Tom convinced me it was the right thing to do. And you laughed, as I recall. Guess you weren’t too interested in sharing back then.’
Hazel’s face was wretched. ‘I was in a rough place. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of.’
Ali snorted. ‘Yeah, for twenty-four years.’
Amelia approached them tentatively, holding out the ultrasound pictures. ‘There you go, one healthy baby to put on your fridge. And here’s one for yours, Hazel.’
There were still tears in Hazel’s eyes as she took the picture and studied it closely.
‘It’s a pity Tom couldn’t be here again,’ Amelia said to Ali. ‘You must both be so happy to be given another chance.’
Ali’s heart writhed with guilt at her deception, especially after what she’d just said to Hazel about doing the right thing. But she was also annoyed at the implication that this baby was merely a replacement for the one she’d lost. Ali didn’t want to trade one for the other. She wanted them both.
They were silent as they left Amelia’s rooms, but when they reached her car, Ali turned to her mother. ‘I’m sorry about what I said back there. It wasn’t fair.’
‘It’s all right, love. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.’
Misconception Page 26