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“Your husband hired me to prove you were having an affair” Jake felt the words hit their target as a series of explosions that would destroy every moment they had ever shared.
He went on, “I think he saw it as damage limitation… to er… “ Lord he was drowning in those eyes. “make any divorce less costly…” Jake’s voice tailed off, her knuckles were white as she gripped a crumpled napkin. “Damage limitation!” she repeated with an iciness. “Less costly…”
“I’m sorry.” he said uselessly.
“So what happened Jake, couldn’t you find anyone else in my life to fit the bill? So you decided to put yourself forward to… to what exactly… trap me?” she couldn’t even meet his eyes now…
“I’m sorry,” he replied again lamely. “Honestly, I need you to believe that.”
“The only thing I need is a drink!” she stated and he felt such a low-life, seeing the pain in those beautiful eyes. The over brightness of unshed tears shored up behind contained anger and disappointment.
“I’ll get us some wine,” he pushed his chair back.
“I’ll have a brandy,” she snapped at him. “We’re not celebrating..”
“Of course” what an idiot he was. Jake went to the bar and waited to be served. He couldn’t bring himself to look for her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. It would be like coming full circle from their first meeting, only this time; her eyes would probably haunt him for the rest of his life.
He paid for the two double brandies and turned back to the table. Then, like a kick in his guts, he realised she had gone… he knew she wouldn’t be wasting tears on him in the ‘Signora’s’ room, she wouldn’t give him the chance to see how much he had hurt her.
He sat down and drank both brandies too fast. He felt sick, as though his heart had been wrenched out and put back the wrong way round, it was hammering in his chest like a painful drum.
When a waitress came over and asked him if everything was all right? He wanted to scream at her about the injustice of his life, but no-one would care and no-one was to blame but himself. What a mess! He pulled out his phone and tried to ring Sara, but it just went straight to voicemail. What could he possibly say, that wouldn’t make the situation worse than it was already? He hung up and thought about texting, but she would probably delete without reading it.
So Jake did what he always did in times of crisis, he ordered another drink…
He sat staring into a bottle of something for the rest of the evening, until eventually, even Mario wanted rid of him too. The pseudo Italian rattled chairs and tables noisily, preparing to close up for the night.
Jake was the last customer sort of standing and he staggered to the door, pulling on his coat with difficulty and fumbling for his car keys. Either he was more drunk than he thought or the restaurant door was locked.
“Mario…. you crazy Italian, let me out will you…”
“I’ll get you a taxi Mister Morgan… you’re not in any state to drive home..!”
“Look Mario, I spend enough money here to please myself what I do…” “But the lady spends more….” Mario’s arms were folded stubbornly.
“What lady? Just open the bl**dy door..” he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.
“The lady who was with you!” Mario shook his head at Jake’s sorry state. “she comes here every week, she told me to stop you leaving…”
Appealing as it was, Jake found this concept hard to swallow. “Is she coming back tonight?”
“No, of course not – she didn’t seem too keen to see you again.” Mario never did get the hang of customer liaison.
“What then?” Jake felt his grip on reality had already gone and perhaps he was passed out on a pavement somewhere, while his conscience tormented him. “The lady said you’d drink too much, eat too little and still think you could drive home.”
“So what are you saying Mario? That she wanted to make sure I didn’t kill myself?”
Jake felt a glimmer of hope... she didn’t want him dead…. well it was a start…
“I think she said, you have some things of hers she wants returning,”

Jake groaned inwardly, she would have been referring to the photos he’d taken of her, the receipts of days spent wining, dining, staying in hotels, because his flat was too cold to contemplate lying so intimately close to her. Only there were no receipts, he’d abandoned the plan weeks ago…. So what was he thinking, have a ball, fool around with Tony’s wife, funded by the £1,000 down payment? Then what? Go back to Tony with nothing to show for it? What was the alternative, scrape a grand back together from somewhere and tell him he hadn’t gone through with it? Jake went home by taxi; he didn’t trust himself behind the wheel now.

Click here to see Chapter Five >