Page 62 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
“Fuck yeah!” Pippa hissed back.
Camille’s voice seemed to rise several octaves. “What the fuck would your mother know? You were brought up by nannies and then packed off to boarding school!”
“Now hold on just one second...”
“No, Guy,youhold on. Yes,ourchildren take up all my time, and I’ll tell you why. Because they are three and five and eight years old—they are physically and mentally incapable of looking after themselves because of the fact that they are three andfive and eight fucking years old! If they aren’t looked after, they will literally die!”
“I’m not an idiot, I know they need looking after. It’s just that by the time you’re done with them there’s nothing left for me. We barely ever have sex, and when we do, I can tell you’d rather be sleeping.”
“Wow!”
“I’ve offered to get you help...”
“I don’t want a nanny!”
“Why not? Most women would kill for a nanny.”
“I’m not most women.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Do you know why I don’t want to have sex with you, Guy?”
There was no answer.
“Because I don’t know where you’ve been!”
Nory felt the color drain out of her face.
Guy tried an approximation of a laugh of ridicule, but it came out like a frightened squeak. “What are you talking about? You’re delusional, Cam. It’s all in your head!”
The color flooded back into Nory’s cheeks. Was he actually going to gaslight his wife? Ameerah put a steadying hand on Nory’s arm.
“No, Guy, it isn’t all in my head. It’s mostly in your trousers. I was hoping you had enough decency to be honest with me, but apparently, you’d rather call me delusional than admit to it. Our problems have got nothing to do with the children. And nothing to do with my being tired. They have everything to do with you. I’ll see you back in London. We can decide what we’re going to do when you get back after the wedding.”
And then everything went silent. Guy didn’t protest or try todefend himself. Nory could imagine his expression: sullen yet resolute in his unwillingness to show any kind of vulnerability. A hangover from an outmoded upbringing where to be a man was to be indomitable.
Camille left an hour later. When the bedroom door had first slammed and they’d seen Guy striding across the lawn in the direction of the stables, Nory had felt that at least one of them should go and knock to see if Camille was okay. She felt strongly it ought not to be her, just in case.
Jenna had immediately fetched Charles and Jeremy to go after Guy. Guy might be a misogynist and a cheat, but he was also their friend. Losing Tristan had left them all afraid, unable to trust that the people they loved would stick around to wait for better days.
The women were still deciding who among them should check on Camille, when she came back into the morning room carrying a suitcase and a holdall.
“I suppose you heard all that?” she said.
They nodded awkwardly and tried and failed to start comforting sentences, but Camille cut them off.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I just wanted to say goodbye. And thank you. You’ve all been very kind. Lovely, actually. Even though Guy is your friend and not me.”
“We don’t approve of his behavior,” said Ameerah, and the others nodded emphatically.
“No. Well. Nothing’s ever simple, is it? As much as I don’t want to be the pathetic, pitied wife of a cheating husband, I still love him. I can’t seem to turn it off.”
“Maybe he’ll change,” said Nory.
Camille smiled at her. “Yes. Maybe he will. Or maybe I will. Anyway, I’ll be off. I’m sorry not to see you get married, Jenna. I’m sure you’ll be a beautiful bride. I know the meal and everything is already paid for, so feel free to bill my husband for my share.”
“Oh my god, that’s the last thing on my mind,” said Jenna. “Honestly, don’t worry about it. I completely understand. You need to get back to your babies.” Jenna pulled Camille into a hug, and then the others each took a turn at hugging the poor, rich, beautiful wife of Guy Bailey, the stupidest man in England.
