Page 55 of The Affair
‘What are you going to do?’ he asked, after a silence.
She shrugged. Although she was beginning to realize there was only one option. ‘Tell Devan, I suppose.’
Neil sucked in his breath. ‘God … poor man.’
‘Don’t.’ She shook her head miserably. ‘I loathe the sight of Jared now – or Jed, as he likes to call himself. But when we first met, it was this crazy attraction, areally insane lust I couldn’t resist … or didn’t try to. I still know virtually nothing about him. He’d arrive unannounced, we’d have astonishing sex – at my age, Neil – then he’d leave till the next time.’ She paused. ‘All of which now just seems creepy and horrible.’ She gazed, bewildered, at her friend. ‘Has anything like that ever happened to you?’
Neil nodded. ‘Sort of. An older guy who came and went in my life for a while when I was in my teens. It wasn’t great sex, though, he was just using me. I think I was flattered because he was famous.’
‘Who was that?’
He waved dismissively in the air. ‘Another time.’ Reaching over to lay a comforting hand over hers, he said, ‘You know, it could very well be curtains for your marriage if you tell him, Con. I can’t see Devan taking too kindly to being cuckolded by the man he’s currently having a budding bromance with.’
It was true: Devan was obviously loving his new friendship with Jared.
‘Brooks won’t tell a soul, I’ll make sure of that. He wouldn’t do that to you. So, it’s only us three who know. And Jed, of course … so far, that is. The guy’s obviously a loose cannon.’
‘And Lynne.’ It was already five people, she realized, with a shock. Four of whom could be trusted. But her secret seemed to have reached a tipping point. ‘We can’t be sure who else he might blab to.’
Neil nodded slowly. ‘It would be so much worse if Devan found out from anyone but you.’
Connie gave a harsh laugh. ‘I can’t think how this awful situation could be even the slightest bit worse. But I take your point.’
‘You never know, he might recall he was being a selfish pillock at the time.’ But her friend was neither convinced nor convincing. And, anyway, it was a poor defence.
‘Oh, Neil, how do I tell him?’
He winced but didn’t reply.
‘What will he do?’ Now that she’d accepted she would have to confess, she was completely failing to imagine the scenario. Her mind was numb. All she could see was her husband’s dear face in front of her …
‘I’ll talk to Jed, if you like,’ Neil said.
Connie gave him a wan smile. ‘Thanks, but it won’t do any good. You’ll just get the same old, same old – he’s not hurting me, he’s not causing trouble, he just wants to be near me …’
He frowned. ‘Telling Devan … It’s a fucking huge thing, Con.’
She nodded grimly. ‘I don’t think I have a choice. Jared, as you say, is a loose cannon. His whole life seems to be one big delusion. Take the Raven thing. Did he really work with her? He put up a credible story, but it seems like a stunning coincidence if he did.’
Neil thought for a moment. ‘I saw him talking to Fiona … but I have no idea what he was saying.’ He frowned. ‘You think it was just part of the stalking?’
‘Don’t know … maybe. It would fit.’
Connie drove home, her stomach in knots. What she faced was so distressing – the disintegration of her whole life – that her mind skittered away from it.Just one more normal day with Devan, she begged silently.And maybe there’d be some miracle, Jared, suddenly out of their lives for ever. But she knew she was fooling herself.
By the time she parked the car by the house, she had determined to have the rest of the day with her husband.I’ll do a lovely supper, she told herself,sleep one more night with him.Tomorrow, she would tell him. She felt like a condemned woman facing the gallows in the morning.
‘There you are.’ Devan was warming a can of chicken soup on the stove. ‘Have you had lunch?’
Connie nodded, although she and Neil had eaten nothing. She knew she couldn’t swallow even one mouthful of soup.
‘You OK? You look as if you’ve been crying,’ Devan put down the wooden spoon and came over to her, his face full of concern.
‘Do I?’ she said, with false brightness. ‘It’s just the wind. Bloody Arctic out there.’
Devan put his arms around her. ‘You’re freezing,’ he said, rubbing his nose to her cheek. ‘Sit. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
She sat down gratefully. Accepting the tea her husband made, she tried not to think that this might be the last cup he ever made her. The last time she would sit with him like this, while he crunched his toast andsipped his soup, the room warm and still in the early-afternoon light.
