Remember Me?

“Like I say”-I shoot him a sweet smile-“I’m not interested.” I press Delete, switch off my phone, and drop it into my bag.

“So!” Eric turns back to us, glowing and ebullient. “The Clarksons want a repeat viewing tomorrow. I think we have another sale. That’s six units, just tonight.”

“Well done, my darling, I’m so proud of you!” I exclaim, putting an arm around him in an extravagant gesture. “I love you even more now than I did on our wedding day.”

Eric frowns, confused. “But you don’t remember our wedding day. So you don’t know how much you loved me.”

For God’s sake. Does he have to be so literal?

I try to control my impatience. “Well, however much I loved you then…I love you more now. Much more.” I put my champagne glass down, and with a defiant glance at Jon, pull Eric in for a kiss. The longest, most slurpy, look-how-much-I-love-my-husband-and-by-the-way-we-have-great-sex kiss. At one point Eric tries to draw back, but I clamp tighter, pi

Jon has gone.

Chapter 15

My marriage. That’s my priority. From now on I’m going to focus on my relationship with Eric, and nothing else.

I’m still a bit shaken the next morning, as I go into the kitchen for breakfast and take the jug of green juice out of the fridge. I must have been crazy last night. I have the dream husband, handed to me on a plate. Why would I jeopardize that? Why would I kiss some guy in the back bedroom, whatever his story was?

I pour a little green juice into a glass and swirl it around to look like dregs, which is what I do every morning. (I can’t drink that pond-weed stuff. But neither can I disappoint Eric, who thinks green juice is almost as great as loft-style living.) Then I take a boiled egg from the pan and pour myself a cup of tea from the pot that Gia

And then sometimes a bagel on the way to work. Just if I’m starving.

As I sit down, the kitchen seems calm and tranquil. But I’m still jittery. What if I’d taken things further with Jon? What if Eric had found out? I could have wrecked everything. I’ve only had this marriage for a few weeks-and already I’m risking it. I need to cherish it. Like a yucca plant.

“Morning!” Eric breezes into the kitchen in a blue shirt, looking ebullient. I’m not surprised. Last night’s launch was the best they’ve ever had, apparently. “Sleep well?”

“Great, thanks!”

We’re not sharing a bedroom yet, nor have we tried sex again. But if I’m going to cherish my marriage, maybe we should be getting more physical. I stand up to get the pepper and brush deliberately against Eric.

“You look great this morning.” I smile up at him.

“So do you!”

I run my hand down his jawline. Eric’s eyes meet mine questioningly, and he puts a hand up to meet mine. I glance quickly at the clock. There isn’t time, thank God.

No. I didn’t think that.

I need to be positive. Sex with Eric is going to be great, I know it is. Maybe we just need to do it in the dark. And not talk to each other.

“How are you…feeling?” Eric says with a cryptic little smile.

“I’m feeling fine! In a bit of a hurry, though.” I flash him a smile, move away, and gulp at my tea before he can suggest a quickie against the oven. Thank goodness, he seems to get the message. He pours himself a cup of tea, then takes out his BlackBerry as it beeps.

“Ah!” he says, sounding pleased. “I’ve just won a case of ’88 Lafite Rothschild at auction.”

“Wow!” I say enthusiastically. “Well done, darling!”

“Eleven hundred quid,” he continues. “Bit of a steal.”

Eleven hundred quid?

“For…how many bottles?” I ask.

“A case.” He frowns as though it’s obvious. “Twelve.”

I can’t speak. Eleven hundred quid for twelve bottles of wine? I’m sorry, that’s just…wrong. Does he know how much eleven hundred quid is? I could buy a hundred bottles of wine for that. And they’d still be posh ones. And I’d have money left over.

“Lexi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I come to. “Just thinking…what a great deal!” With a final gulp of tea I put on my jacket and pick up my briefcase. “Bye, darling.”

“Bye, sweetheart.” Eric comes over and we kiss each other good-bye. It’s actually starting to feel quite natural. I shrug on my jacket and am at the door when something hits me.

“Hey, Eric,” I say as casually as possible. “What’s…Mont Blanc?”

“Mont Blanc?” Eric turns, his face searching mine in disbelief. “You’re kidding. Do you remember Mont Blanc?”

Okay. I really fell into this one. I can’t say “No, Jon told me.”

“I don’t remember, exactly,” I improvise. “But the name ‘Mont Blanc’ came back to me, and it seemed significant, somehow. Does it mean something…special?”

“You’ll find out, darling.” I can see the suppressed pleasure in Eric’s face. “It’ll all come back to you. I won’t say any more for now. This has to be a good sign!”

“Maybe!” I try to match his excitement. “Well…see you later!” I head out of the kitchen, racking my brain. Mont Blanc. Skiing? Those posh fountain pens? A great big snowy mountain?

I have absolutely no idea.

I get off the tube at Victoria, buy a bagel, and nibble it as I walk along. But as I get near the office, I’m suddenly not hungry anymore. I have a nasty churning in my stomach. That kind of sinking, I-don’t-want-go-to-school sensation.

Fi might be my friend again, but no one else is. And I messed up in front of Simon Johnson, and I still don’t feel on top of anything…As the building comes in sight I stop, heavy with dread.

Come on, I tell myself firmly. It’ll be fun.

No, it won’t.

Well, okay, it won’t. But I don’t have any choice.

Summoning all my determination, I chuck the rest of the bagel in a bin and push my way through the main glass doors. I head straight up to my office without bumping into anyone, sit down, and pull my pile of papers toward me. As I do so, I notice the Post-it I wrote yesterday: Discuss sales with Byron. Maybe I’ll do that now. I lift the phone to dial his extension, but put it down again when there’s a knock at the door.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lexi?” Debs edges her way into the room. She’s wearing a turquoise beaded cardigan and denim skirt, and holding an envelope.

“Oh,” I say apprehensively. “Hi, Debs.”

“How are you?” She sounds awkward.

“I’m…fine.” The door widens to reveal Fi and Carolyn, both looking ill at ease too. “Hi!” I exclaim in surprise. “Is everything okay?”

“I told them what you told me,” says Fi. “Last night we went out for a drink and I told them.”

“We didn’t realize,” says Debs, looking worried. “We didn’t give you a chance. We just assumed you were still…” She casts around for the word.

“A power-crazed nightmare,” supplies Carolyn, deadpan.

“We feel bad.” Debs bites her lip as she looks at the others. “Don’t we?”

“Don’t worry.” I force a smile. But all of a sudden, as I regard the three of them, I feel more lonely than ever. These were my mates; we were always a foursome. But now they’ve had three years of nights out and talking and laughs that I’ve missed out on. They’re banded together in a trio and I’m the stranger.

“So, I just wanted to give you this.” Debs advances toward the desk, her face pinkening, and hands me the envelope. I rip it open and pull out a stiff white engraved card. A wedding invitation.

“Hope you can come.” Debs has shoved her hands into her pockets. “You and Eric.”

I feel a rush of humiliation. Her body language is obvious. The last thing she wants is us at her wedding.