I hear Sebastian open the front door. “Hello, please come in.”
The police were here for hours going through everything. The questioning was in depth, and I imagine it was very stressful for Sebastian.
Then the public relations team arrived, and the house was full of people as they organized the statement that was to be released to the press. It was a whirl of activity down there, and I should have perhaps been involved. After all, I used to be part of that crisis management team.
But I couldn’t. I stayed upstairs and cried like a baby to my sister Eliza on the phone, she wants to come over to be with me but she’s heavily pregnant and can’t fly.
I feel so alone and compelled to stay out of sight tonight. I didn’t want to see anyone.
And perhaps, if I’m being completely honest, I’m embarrassed that my husband is being accused of fathering a child while he was with me.
I feel sick to my stomach.
What if it’s true?
It isn’t.
He wouldn’t do that to me-I know he wouldn’t-and besides, I’m sure men can’t ejaculate while unconscious.
Everyone left about an hour ago, but Sebastian hasn’t come upstairs yet.
I don’t know what he’s doing down there. If I were a better person, I would go and comfort him, he’s had a really stressful day.
But I can’t help but feel resentment toward him.
By protecting her, he gave her a gun to shoot me.
He knew what she was capable of and yet he never pressed criminal charges.
I don’t understand why. I never will.
I keep seeing Helena’s face when she asked me if he’d told me about the night that they spent together, and that he had decided that he was moving on with me and so he wanted to say goodbye to her properly. He wanted to make love to her, one last time.
It makes sense.
We had just told each other that we loved each other. Things had just turned serious between us. If ever there was a turning point in time when he had decided that we were going to be more, that was it.
I know that it’s stupid, and I know she’s making it all up and it never happened, but my insecurities are at an all-time high.
I’ve been that wife before who never thought that her husband was capable of such things. The one who would have defended his honor with her life.
Unfortunately, I no longer hold the ability to go gung-ho into publicly defending any cheating husband allegations. No matter what the story is, no matter how much I want to, I will remain silent.
I did all I could to protect him and he hasn’t protected me.
I hear the top step creak, and I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I don’t know what to say to him so this is the easy option.
The bed dips and I feel him push my hair back from my forehead. He bends and kisses my temple.
“Do you know how much I love you?” he whispers.
I get a lump in my throat because, damn it, I love you, too.
So much.
I open my eyes, and we stare at each other in the darkness.
“Are you okay?” I eventually whisper.
He nods, but I know that he’s not.
“Have a shower and get into bed, babe.” I sigh. “It’s over now. You need to sleep.”
His eyes hold mine, and I get the feeling he wants to say something.
Gone is my powerful Mr. Prime Minister. This man is scared.
I hold my arms out, and he lies down to hug me. He holds me tightly, and I can feel his anxiety oozing out of him.
“It’s okay,” I whisper against his hair.
“Nothing about this is okay,” he murmurs.
I hold him close. “I know, but tomorrow we will have more perspective. We’re both tired and emotional right now. We need to stop thinking about it.”
“You’re right.” He drags himself up, showers, and then he climbs in behind me and pulls me close.
After a while, I hear his breathing regulate as he drifts off into an exhausted sleep. His big arms around me are comforting. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Hopefully a sense of calm.
For the first time today, I feel myself relax.
I wake before the sun, and I quietly slide out of bed. I put on my robe and sneak downstairs. I make a cup of tea and turn on the television to watch the news.
I already know the headline. Let me rephrase that: I’m dreading the headline.
In breaking news, Prime Minister Garcia has been involved in an extortion attempt.
Sebastian Garcia has been threatened with falsified images of himself soliciting prostitution in a high-end brothel if he didn’t pay ten million pounds.
A warrant is out for an arrest, but as of yet, the perpetrator remains on the run.
A defamation case is being lodged as this goes to air.
Fuck.
Panic runs through me.
There are a lot of people who know that Sebastian went to strip clubs years ago.
He was on a lot of women’s radar because of his skills in the bedroom, they all knew his name back then, and he isn’t easily forgotten.
What if someone else comes forward?
There’s no footage; I know that for certain.
“It’s okay,” I whisper to myself. “This statement had to be made.”
If he is to survive this scandal, we had to come out swinging.
The news keeps going on and on about it, and I hear the shower turn on upstairs.
He’s awake.
I keep watching the news and I make him a coffee.
“Hello,” he says from the doorway. I glance up and immediately hold up the remote to turn the television off.
Wearing his perfectly fitting charcoal suit and a crisp white shirt, he looks the epitome of Mr. Smooth.
“Good morning.” I smile.
He walks over and takes me into his arms. He kisses me softly, his lips lingering over mine.
He doesn’t say anything, but what is there to say?
Both of us are unsure what’s going to happen with Helena, the loose cannon still on the run. We are both on tenterhooks.
I want to fight and yell and carry on like a child at him for getting us into this position with her, but then I remember that he was only trying to protect me, and my past is just as sordid as his.
He went to that club… but I worked there.
And nobody else besides the two of us would ever believe that he was my first client. My only client.
He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I’m not adding to his stress levels, no matter how selfish I want to be and put the blame on him.
I know I can’t.
“I made you a coffee,” I say.
“Thanks.” He rolls his lips and picks up the mug. “Are you all right?” he asks.
I force a smile and nod. “Yep,” I lie. “Are you?”
“Uh-huh.”
We stand with our coffees in our hands, staring at each other in some kind of fucked-up, silent stand-off. Both of us knowing that the other isn’t okay. Both of us unwilling to bring up Helena’s pregnancy revelation.
My anger and his stress aren’t a good combination, so I’ll play nicely until I can act like an adult.
“I have to go,” he says.
“Yes. Go.” I smile, grateful that I won’t have to try and bite my tongue for much longer. I really need to get a hold of myself.
Why didn’t you just get drug tested?
How could you be so selfish? How could you put me through this?
“See you tonight.” He kisses my cheek. “I love you.”
I fake a smile, battling anger, disappointment and blind rage fury. “You, too.”
He turns and walks out the door. It closes quietly, and my eyes well with tears.
Disappointment runs through me.
Say something, you asshole. Reassure me.
For fuck’s sake, reassure me.