Page 66 of So Thrilled For You

Matt hadalwayslistened and taken my side and protected us. But the Matt-shield was smashed and in our bedroom, shoving shirts into a duffel bag, pushing past me to get to the bathroomto take his toothbrush and shower gel, muttering something about staying at Seth’s.

‘You can’t stay there,’ I yelled. ‘Charlotte will find out.’

‘You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore,’ his spit landed on my face even though he was at least three feet away. I collapsed to the carpet then, to try and stop him. Surely, he wouldn’t leave if he saw me this upset? He’d drop to his knees and kiss it better. I wanted him still, even though I also wanted Phoebe. Nothing about how I felt made any sense and I’d only had 24 hours to be allowed to feel it. I’d told Phoebe nothing could happen between us before I’d spoken to Matt.

Phoebe:

Of course, hon. Of course you want to do things right, that’s one of the things I love about you. We didn’t ask for this to happen. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. I know it’s a lot. I’ll never stop waiting for you xxxx

But Matt did leave. In fact, he left so roughly that a painting fell off the wall as he slammed the front door. I waited on the floor for him to come back, arranged as daintily as I could for when he returned from walking around the block to calm down. I kept myself crying, even when I was running low on tears, as I wanted him to see fresh tear stains on his return and feel guilty for waiting so long to talk it through. Matt couldn’t leave me like this. He was my husband. He loved me. He never left me. Part of what was so annoying about him was how utterly invested he was in me. How I never had to wonder how he felt about me. The only thrill I got was when we had to hang out with Steffi, and I’d get intrusive thoughts of them fucking,and I’d want to be sick, but also want to have sex with him the second we got home.

But that night he left me. He left me and didn’t come back for two weeks.

And that, somehow, changed everything.

I glance over at Phoebe again, the magnet pull just as strong as always. For the first time in the third trimester, I almost forget about the baby twisting in my stomach and let myself fall into the fantasy of what life would’ve been like if I’d chosen differently. Life with Phoebe. Living in East London, going out most nights, figuring out my sexuality, exploring, touching, tasting, panting. Who am I with the brakes off? With my hair untied? Travel. Spontaneity. Being cool . . . A life like Steffi’s . . . adventurous. Phoebe’s eyes meet mine. She winks again and I know with that wink that she’s here to cause trouble. She must be. Why else would she come? Is she going to tell everyone about us? Or is she just here to fuck with me? To remind me of what I’ve missed? Does she know her being here is fucking with me enough? Phoebe never took revenge, even though she had every right to. I treated her as appallingly as I treated Matt – marinating for two weeks in my total selfishness. What doIwant? What’s best forme? Is there any way I can have both?

I was so unfair to her.

I feigned a horrific flu at work and took a fortnight’s leave – messaging her to say I needed space. I also messaged Matt, to tell him I wouldn’t see Phoebe. I wouldn’t take my betrayal any further forward while I figured things out.

He replied with only this.

Matt:

Take your time but also know I’m not here forever. I know I’m worth more than someone having to agonise over wanting to be with me. You’re not just fucking your life up, Nicki, you’re fucking mine up too. Ours. The life we’ve been building, brick by brick, for over ten years now. But I’m not going to beg you to stay. You’ve already taken the piss. So much. I know you want me to beg, but I won’t.

Matt was right. He knew me so well. How my selfish brain works. I was distraught he wasn’t at the door, on his knees, crying and pleading for me to choose him. He knew the worst of me but he’d always loved me anyway. He then added:

Matt:

Really think about the life you want, and whether this woman can give it to you, Nicki. In the long-term, not the short. I see you as the mother to my children. My family I’ll have forever. But I can find that with other women . . . can you find that with Phoebe?

I read and re-read that last message maybe a thousand times, marvelling again at just how well Matt knew me. Before Phoebe started working at my company, we had started talking about kids. For the first time since meeting her, I remembered those conversations and how . . . exciting they’d been. Honestly, what had I done? What was I doing? What was I going to do? The worst part of my agony was that I was completely alone in it. Matt hadn’t stayed at Charlotte’s after all, but gone to bunk with David, his bachelor mate who lived in Canary Wharf. Nobody in my lifeknew about Phoebe and I was too ashamed to confide in anyone, so I just shuffled around my flat in a dirty pair of pyjamas, festering with shame. What was I ashamed of? The emotional affair? Though I kept reassuring myself I didn’t know I was having one. Potentially being gay? Though I still wasn’t sure if I was. I didn’t want girls, I just wanted Phoebe, and how being around Phoebe made me feel. I wanted to tell the Little Women, but then Steffi would know, and I couldn’t bare her knowing there were chinks in mine and Matt’s marital armour. The smug satisfaction she’d take in our downfall. In those wretched nights of sleeplessness, twisting in my empty bed, literally holding my head from the buzzing of the decision making, I’d add to my anguish by picturing Steffi and Matt getting together if I left him for Phoebe. Maybe they’d end up married and she’d have Matt’s children – not me.

That word.

Children.

That thought.

I was 30 years old. I’d always seen Matt as the father of my children.

Alone to figure this out, I spent my days essentially feral, in bed, my Google search history a meandering list of increasingly desperate despair.

Can you be gay and not realise it?

Am I lesbian?

How do lesbians have sex?

Can you love two people at the same time?

Am I bisexual?

Should I leave my husband?

What counts as cheating?

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