Tempting Fate (7 page)

Gabby is not a woman who particularly enjoys shopping. Most of her clothes are bought online; when forced to buy in person she is most likely to run to Main Street for stretch trousers and some long-sleeved Tshirts from Gap, rarely anything more sophisticated. Dressing up has never been very interesting to her.

When she was young and growing up in London, she would watch movies about American teenagers and long to wear the clothes they wore. She wanted faded jeans and Converse trainers, baseball shirts and topsiders.

She was something of a tomboy back then, and even now, if she isn’t in clogs or Merrells, she is most likely to be in her Converse trainers, although she will team them with yoga pants and a cute hoodie.

She pulls her curls back into a ponytail and jumps in the car, actually looking forward to shopping, hoping she will find the outfit she’s looking for, because she has one in mind. She knows exactly what she wants to project: rumpled, sexy, confident – a woman who is fully aware of the power she holds.

Leggings and boots made of the softest leather, ones that reach up to her knees, maybe over. The long,
sky-blue, sheer alpaca sweater she noticed in the window of Great Stuff, with the great charm necklace they paired with it, and the fine cashmere scarf in the same colour, twisted loosely round the neck.

That’s what she wants to wear when she meets Matt for a drink this week. Nothing suggestive. She certainly doesn’t want to be provocative – but how lovely it is to be noticed, to be flirted with. This is an outfit that Gabby has carefully put together in her mind, hoping it will be beautiful and sexy, without shouting anything, without sending any messages to Matt that she is interested in anything other than a friendship.

Not that she hasn’t imagined something happening, but she has thought it only a handful of times, and is trying very hard to stop. She knows this is an indulgence, a fantasy. This isn’t what their correspondence is about, and even if there may be chemistry between them, that doesn’t mean anything.

Gabby thinks of all the times she and her friends have discussed people who have been caught having affairs. None of them have ever understood it. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you’ll never be attracted to anyone else, Gabby has always said. But the point is that you have a choice, and you should choose to do the right thing; you shouldn’t act on your attraction.

She still believes those words to be true, but when she was discussing this with her friends she hadn’t ever been attracted to anyone else. It is very easy to say things like that when temptation has never crossed your path.

Temptation is crossing her path now. She absolutely wants to believe she won’t do anything; she is telling herself over and over that they are just friends. But if he were to lean over and kiss her, she honestly doesn’t know if she would have the strength to resist.

In her mind, she pushes him away. But not before she feels his lips, his tongue, holds his top lip between her own. She will push him back gently while shaking her head. ‘No,’ she will say, regret and desire etched on her face. ‘We can’t. I’m married. I love my husband.’

He will understand, and let her go, knowing that he may have lost the one woman who could make him happy. They will resolve not to stay in touch, and Gabby will be weighed down with sadness for a few days; but then she will be buoyed by the rightness of her decision and fall in love with Elliott all over again.

Where is Elliott in all this? He doesn’t feature much. Her thoughts have been wholly and all-consumingly filled with Matt. She wakes up in the night with his name on her lips, and carries her mobile phone with her all day, glancing at the screen every few minutes to see if there is a new message.

Elliott is accusing her of daydreaming all the time. And it is true – she may be going through the motions but she is not present in her life. Half the time she has a dreamy smile on her lips which, when asked, she will put down to thinking about a funny TV show, or something that the girls said (and she is getting used to having stories ready); the rest of the time she is trying not to feel
blue that six hours, twelve, eighteen, have gone by and still Matt hasn’t responded. She will feel embarrassed, and angry, will vow not to respond to his next email, but then it will arrive, and it will be so lovely that she will stop whatever she is doing to find a quiet corner so that she can send him back her innermost thoughts.

Gabby pulls into a spot behind Main Street, then cuts through Gap, not glancing around today, but going straight to the shoe store. The boots have no heel, but are beautifully cut, narrow, made of Italian leather. She pulls them on then tucks her yoga pants into them as she studies herself in the mirror, a smile on her face.

This morning she told Elliott she was thinking of going shopping. Because she is so bad at it, because she dislikes it so much, on those rare occasions she announces she is going to spend some money Elliott always encourages her.

‘What are you looking for?’ Elliott asked, watching her as she pulled off her robe to get dressed.

Gabby shrugged. ‘I just feel like all I wear is jeans or leggings. I have no idea why I grew up to be a teenage boy, but I feel like I need some more feminine clothes. I saw a sweater on Main Street that I’m slightly obsessing about, and I thought I might get some new knee-high boots.’

Elliott’s face lit up. ‘Mmm, sexy!’ He pulled Gabby over, murmuring in pleasure as he held her naked body close.

‘Oh stop.’ Gabby stepped back, laughing.

‘Why stop?’ Elliott said, moving back in, but Gabby’s smile disappeared.

‘I’m serious, Ell. I have a ton to do. I need to get dressed.’

Elliott put up his hands. ‘Okay, okay. Sorry. Forgive me.’

Gabby got dressed quickly and silently, not looking at Elliott again. There were times of late when he had been getting on her nerves, and she found herself snapping at him far more than she would like.

She knows her hormones are raging, and does plan to see a doctor, an endocrinologist, someone to help, but life is always so busy, and tomorrow never comes. And so she is left to take it out on her husband. She is filled with remorse afterwards and tries to make it up to him, only to find she is still irritated.

Gabby is not stupid. She knows this is her resentment at his decision to have the vasectomy, a resentment that is choosing to come out now because she is projecting perfection onto an alternative man. Which doesn’t mean it isn’t real. This is the resentment she has been trying to push down so hard for so many months; but it is refusing to disappear and is instead growing stronger.

In the store she tries on the sweater. It is even better than she had imagined. The girls in the store crowd round to compliment her, layering on jewellery, scarves, a shearling vest, then running to the other side of the store and coming back with trousers and another wonderful sweater that would look perfect on her.

She leaves with three large bags, and walks straight into Claire on the street outside.

‘What are you doing here?’ Claire looks at her bags, aghast. ‘Am I sleepwalking? I’m looking at three bags of clothes from my favourite store, and you hate shopping. Actually, you hate clothes.’

‘I know! Can you believe it?’ Gabby laughs. ‘Elliott gave me permission to feminize my wardrobe, so what’s a girl to do? I had to take him up on it.’

‘Great. You finally decide you want to be a girl, and I can’t even enjoy it with you.’ She proffers her own bag. ‘A Pea in the Pod. That’s all I’ve got to look forward to.’

Gabby grins. ‘Want to grab a coffee?’

‘Only if it’s decaf. So what’s up with you recently? You look all glowing. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were pregnant.’

‘Sadly not. Must be the menopause,’ Gabby says. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of the menopausal glow? No? Me neither. I think it’s just that life is going well. I feel … happy. You know how you always said you loved being in your forties because you felt truly comfortable in your skin, that you didn’t need to prove yourself to anyone any more? Well, I get that. I do. I’ve just suddenly found myself feeling really good.’

‘That’s great. I remember a couple of months ago you were saying you felt really middle-aged. It’s great you’re feeling better. Is this what the whole makeover’s about?’

‘Makeover?’

‘Your grey hair has disappeared, and you’re spending fortunes. If I didn’t know better,’ Claire peers at her as they stand in line in Starbucks, ‘I’d think you were having an affair.’

‘Oh ha ha.’ Gabby rolls her eyes. ‘Yes. I am having an affair, for I am exactly the type. In fact, I’m having three affairs, all at the same time. Why do you think I had to cover the grey hair? It was the only way I could attract all three gorgeous lovers.’

Gabby may not be having an affair, but she is planning to have a drink with a man who isn’t her husband. She has no idea what to say, how to explain it to Elliott. It occurred to her that she could orchestrate another girls’ night out, and – coincidence! – the same man would be at the bar and the two of them could, as they had before, spend the evening talking together.

This time her friends would grow suspicious. Who even knows if Gabby and Matt would be left alone? She doesn’t want to lie to Elliott. A lie, however small, feels like the beginning of a slippery slope, but how can she possibly explain it? Should she tell the truth, couched in a white lie, so she will still be able to live with herself?

‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ Gabby now feels guilty at buying so much, even though Elliott is delighted with her new wardrobe.

‘Are you kidding? Gabby, you look amazing! I feel
like I have a new wife! I had no idea you were this sexy, honey!’

‘Great,’ she grumbles. ‘Thanks a lot.’

‘Gabs, you know what I mean. Everything you bought looks incredible on you. Usually you wear such shapeless clothes no one can even see your figure – you know that. But everything you bought just shows it off. You are seriously hot.’

‘I’ve lost a few pounds.’ Gabby turns to look at her side view in the closet mirror. ‘I kind of needed these trousers because the ones I have are swimming on me.’

‘I can see,’ Elliott says approvingly. ‘Not that you needed to lose anything, but it suits you. How much have you lost?’

‘About six pounds,’ Gabby says. ‘I wasn’t even trying. I just haven’t been hungry.’

Elliott looks down at his own stomach; he is more cuddly than ever before. ‘I wish I knew what that felt like,’ he says. ‘Oh well. At least there’s more of me to love.’

Gabby, looking at him, feels a surge of love. ‘The more of you to love, the better.’ She leans down and kisses him before sitting on his lap and sliding her arms up round his neck. ‘Anyway, you’re still as gorgeous as the day we met.’

He laughs. ‘Liar.’

‘Oh! Guess what!’ She stands up and starts to undress, carefully folding the scarf. ‘You know that Fourforesight website I joined?’

‘No.’

‘It’s another social media thing.’

‘I know that, but I didn’t know you joined it.’ Elliott shakes his head. ‘Isn’t that like a Facebook for hipsters? You and the girls with all this stuff – I don’t know how you find the time. What was your last obsession? Pinterest?’

‘Yes. Over it. This one’s the new one, and they contacted me and asked if I wanted to take part in a study, a focus group. Isn’t that exciting! The guy who started it is flying around meeting people and talking to them about the website and what changes they’d like to see!’

‘Okay,’ Elliott says, and shrugs. ‘If you say it’s exciting then I’m excited for you.’

‘Well, I am excited. I feel like I could be part of a huge change. So it’s Wednesday night. I have to go to some hotel in Stamford.’

‘Sounds great. Just make sure you wear some of these new clothes – you want them to think you’re a hot mommy, right?’

‘You’d better believe it.’ Gabby’s smile is large as she turns to slide the scarf onto a shelf.

As Gabby walks through the lobby of the hotel she is conscious that each of the three men sitting or standing around by the front door is following her with his eyes. She isn’t so much walking, as sailing, an assured smile on her face as she takes long strides, her new boots click-clacking on the marble floor, her hips swaying, her hair, styled into soft sexy waves instead of the more usual unruly curls, bouncing gently on her shoulders.

She has a quality tonight that is more than mere beauty. It is clear to anyone watching that this is a woman well aware of how powerful, sexy, gorgeous she is, who exudes confidence from every pore, and it is this that makes her so compelling.

Gabby walks through to the bar, and stands for a few seconds in the doorway, squinting slightly as she looks around for Matt. She has made sure to be fifteen minutes late, so she won’t be the first one here.

And there he is. At one end of the bar. Her heart jumps into her mouth at the exact moment he turns and sees her. As his face lights up, Gabby falters suddenly.

Oh
God
, she thinks. Look how …
gorgeous
he is. What
am I
doing
here? What the
hell
am I doing here? I need to leave.

But she doesn’t. She walks towards him, the smile on her face matching the smile on his, and they stand for a second or two, grinning at each other, before he extends his arms and wraps them round Gabby, who closes her eyes as he holds her tightly.

This is fine, she thinks. I can do this. We are friends. I’m just going to be chatty and friendly while still retaining my distance. I’m the one in control here and I will not let this stray into territory that might be dangerous.

They sit down at the bar, Matt swivelling his stool so he is facing her, and they look at each other and both start to laugh, Gabby shaking her head and looking away.

‘I don’t know why I’m laughing,’ Matt splutters.

‘I don’t know either,’ Gabby manages to say. ‘But I’d love a drink.’

‘Coming right up.’ He orders before sitting back to gaze at her.

‘What?’ Gabby is self-conscious. ‘Do I have something in my teeth?’

‘No. You look great.’ She notices his eyes darken as he says this and she knows it means he’s aroused. She feels waves of embarrassment, of pleasure, before remembering her manners. ‘Thank you. How were your meetings?’

‘All good. How’s the piece you’re working on. Didn’t you say it was a desk?’

Gabby smiles. He remembered. She had found a dark wooden desk at the consignment store and had stripped it with the intention of painting it a soft dove grey, replacing the handles with small, black, iron knobs, and thereby reinventing it as a Gustavian-style desk, perfect for the study. ‘It’s going well,’ she says, getting out her phone and scrolling through for pictures.

As she scrolls, she realizes Matt is looking at the screen, at all the evidence of her life, her real life, which she doesn’t want him to see. She doesn’t want him to see her husband, her children, the signs of a middle-aged housewife – which is what she is, however much he may want to think otherwise. She tilts her screen slightly to prevent him seeing, but it isn’t enough.

‘Wait! Is that your husband?’

They haven’t talked very much about Elliott. Gabby isn’t even sure Matt knows his name. It wouldn’t feel right to discuss him, nor does she want Matt to see him. ‘No,’ she lies. ‘Just some friends back home.’

‘Oh come on, let me see,’ he insists.

‘No.’ She is firm as she lets the phone fall back into her bag. ‘Can’t find the desk, sorry. Take my word for it, though, that I’m doing an amazing job.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’ Matt raises his glass, dropping the subject. ‘Cheers!’ he says as Gabby raises hers. ‘To us.’

Gabby says nothing as she drinks. Us? To
us
? What us? There is no ‘us’. And yet she can’t deny a thrill at hearing him say the word, and she can’t deny a thrill as her eyes unconsciously move across his body,
remembering the picture of him surfing. She can’t deny a thrill as he watches her looking at him then gives her a slow, sexy smile that makes her tingle down to her toes.

What am I
doing
? She thinks: I need to leave.

She doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t. She has another drink.

Their smiles do not fade, each of them is high on the other’s company, and it is only as Gabby sips her third drink that she realizes Matt is talking, has been talking for quite some time, and she has no idea what he is saying.

‘I’m drunk,’ she says suddenly, staring at the glass as she tries to focus, pushing it away and shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts.

Matt raises his eyebrows. ‘You haven’t had that much.’

‘I know. I’m a total lightweight,’ she says. ‘Drinking on an empty stomach has never been good for me.’

‘Or perhaps it’s very good for you. Depends which way you look at it.’

Gabby snorts with laughter then looks up at him through her mascaraed eyelashes.

‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Because you,’ she says, wagging a finger at him, knowing she has had too much to drink and it is making her bold, knowing she would never dare say this when sober, ‘are dangerous.’

Matt sits back, feigning dismay. ‘Me?
Me
?
Dangerous
?
I’m not the dangerous one.’ Once again, a slow smile spreads across his face. ‘
You’re
the dangerous one.’

‘I’m an old married woman,’ Gabby protests, able to say these words only because she doesn’t feel like an old married woman at all, knows she doesn’t look like an old married woman. ‘You’re the sexy younger man flirting with a woman he can’t have.’

‘Oh?’ Matt sits forward, leaning very close, and as his lips brush her ear a shiver runs through her entire body. ‘Are you absolutely sure I’m flirting with a woman I can’t have?’ His voice is a whisper of desire and Gabby closes her eyes, her whole body on fire, knowing this is too much, this is more than she can handle. His hand is on her knee, and it is as if it is burning through her skin. She can feel him in every bone, every fibre, every tendon of her body, and it is so delicious, so intoxicating, she wants to just sit like this for ever, with his breath brushing her ear, his hand on her leg.

But she is married. To a wonderful man. The thought of Elliott, of his face if he could see them, of his devastation if she was unfaithful, if he ever found out, is sobering.

She opens her eyes to see Matt, his face inches from hers. A few seconds go by as they stare at each other, before Gabby shakes her head.

‘Matt, I … I can’t do this. I’m not the sort of woman …’ She stops. She doesn’t know how to say this. ‘I’m married. This feels like too much. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’ He jumps back, his face filled with apology.
‘I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.’

‘Oh, Matt. If I was ten years younger, and single …’ Her voice tails off.

‘You’re perfect exactly as you are,’ he says. ‘You are. Truly.’ He gives a wry smile. ‘It’s my bad luck that when I’ve found the perfect woman, she’s unavailable.’

‘We can still be friends,’ Gabby says.

‘Absolutely,’ Matt says. ‘Friends.’

He calls Gabby a cab while she mentally kicks herself. She did the right thing, of course she did the right thing, but he is slightly distant now. The playful flirtatiousness, the dangerous edge of earlier has gone, and Gabby would do anything,
anything
, to get it back.

When the cab arrives and Matt has put his arms round her in a perfunctory hug, Gabby steps back, then moves forward again, taking his face gently in her hands. She opens her lips as she kisses him slowly, softly, moving back when she feels his tongue. No tongues. Just … teasing. She needs to keep him wanting her. She needs to continue feeling as beautiful as he has made her feel, and if that requires a tiny bit of teasing, so be it.

This time she pulls back to see a smile of delight on his face.

‘Friends?’ he whispers.

‘Friends,’ she nods, climbing into the cab, her heart threatening to pound right out of her chest.

The girls are fast asleep when she walks in. Olivia sleeps in the dark, her face as soft and peaceful as when she was a baby. Gabby brushes her hair off her face and kisses her on the forehead, then the cheek, then the cheek again. When the girls are asleep, at their most vulnerable, not fighting, not looking at her with disdain, not being the vocal, confident children they are, she is reminded of their innocence and she feels herself falling in love with them all over again, every night.

Alanna’s light is on, her iTouch still clutched in her hand. Gabby hesitates, then prises it out and clicks the screen on. Sometime in the last six weeks Alanna set up an Instagram account, and Gabby, not allowed to look under normal circumstances, could perhaps find out more about what’s going on.

But the iTouch is now password-protected, and nothing Gabby can think of will work. With a sigh, and after several kisses on the forehead and cheek of her younger daughter, she turns off the light and moves quietly down the hallway to her own bedroom.

The television is on when she walks in, Elliott illuminated by the bluish light of
Homeland
. His mouth is open as he snores gently, the covers mussed up around his legs, his T-shirt ridden up to expose the rounded belly she has always loved so much.

And suddenly Gabby feels like crying. The familiarity, the comfort in seeing Elliott, the relief at having come so close to doing something so terrible – and she
did come close, as close as she has ever come – all makes her eyes prick with tears.

Kicking off her boots she snuggles into Elliott’s side, wanting to smell him, feel him, wanting the safety of her husband to somehow negate the danger of the evening. She nuzzles into his neck just as he stirs.

‘Oh – hey! What time is it?’

‘Eleven-ish. I just got back.’

‘It must have been fun.’ Elliott pushes himself up on the pillows and smiles at his wife. ‘Did they think you were a total hot mommy?’

‘You know what?’ She is coquettish. ‘I think he did. This kid, Matt, who started the website, definitely seemed to think I was a MILF.’

‘He’s clearly a man of excellent taste.’ Elliott grins, tracing a hand lazily along the neck of her sweater then moving down to the waistband of her trousers, before pulling her towards him.

As they kiss Gabby helps him ease off her sweater and trousers, and draws his T-shirt over his head.

‘Did you lock the door?’ he whispers, reaching for the remote and turning off the television.

‘No. Hang on.’ She jumps off the bed and comes back seconds later, rolling on top of him. His fingers are between her legs, her own stroking him to hardness as she closes her eyes, and once again – please let this be the last time – imagines that it is not her familiar, loved, teddy bear of a husband beneath her, but a hard-bodied, virile, unbelievably sexy thirty-something.

It is Matt’s fingers she feels inside her, Matt’s body she moves her lips down until she takes him in her mouth, and she is more active, more energetic, more turned-on than she has been in years.

Afterwards, Elliott cradles her in his arms and laughs. ‘What got into you tonight? You were amazing.’

‘Isn’t that how MILFs are supposed to show their husbands the love?’

‘I don’t know, but I sure as hell hope so,’ he says, and laughs again, turning the television back on. Within five minutes, he is gently snoring, leaving Gabby to replay every single thing that happened tonight, or, rather, every single thing that happened before she came home.