Chapter 9
The building towered over the others, as it always had. From the day it was built, it had been intended to dwarf and belittle.
Saphire stood, hands planted on hips, and stared up at it.
The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, pocked by the occasional wisp of cloud and the unmistakable marks of passing aeroplanes.
A late summer breeze rustled past, plastering her maxi dress to her legs.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, but instead of the salt and sunshine of Greece, she tasted London’s smog and streets on her tongue.
Her bright eyes blinked at the building once more and with a grimace of determination she began to move towards it slowly. Cars were zipping in both directions. She waited on the edge of the footpath, concentrating only on crossing the street.
One step at a time.
One step at a time and eventually this life might feel like hers again.
A gap formed and she moved with alacrity through it, skipping onto the opposing footpath and pausing yet again. Just long enough to draw in another breath, then she was off, moving towards the revolving doors.
A plane flew overhead right as she entered and Saphire paused, spinning sharply to stare up at it. Was it a Konstanides jet? She couldn’t tell from that distance, but she watched until it had passed completely out of sight, then shook her head.
What was Thad doing?
Unconsciously, her fingers reached for her shoulder, where the last of his wax marks were still visible.
It hadn’t even been a week.
Her gut clenched with the force of her memories, but she banked down on them.
It had been an aberration. She’d wanted to break free of her marriage, to hurt her husband as he had her, and instead she’d ruined everything. Most of all her own life.
Her heels made clicking noises against the tiles. She moved efficiently, jabbing a manicured finger into the upward button at the bank of stainless steel elevators. There was a slight delay before the doors swished open, revealing a small cubicle rounded by mirrors.
Saphire hardly recognized herself.
She lifted her fingers to her lips as she entered, then pushed her Gucci sunglasses high up on her head. Her hair was neat, pulled into a chignon. Her make up was impeccable, and she’d worn one of her favorite dresses from the previous year’s fashion week.
But there was a subtle shift in all of her features. A confidence and edginess that had never been there before.
With a moue of impatience, she pressed the button to the twentieth floor and pressed back against the wall.
Its ascent was swift; only seconds seemed to elapse before the doors swished open. “Morrison, McKenna just as she remembered. But there was no answering crush of interest.
“Jordan.” She patted his back and then stepped out of the embrace as soon as she felt she could do so politely.
“Saffy, God. When did you get here?”
“A few days ago.” She cleared her throat.
“A few days ago? Jesus. Where have you been? Have you been home?”
Saphire lifted a finger to her temples and flashed him a distracted smile.
She crossed to one of the elegant armchairs near the windows and took a seat.
In the end, she hadn’t been able to face their home.
She’d caught a cab towards it as soon as she’d arrived back in London.
But as she’d stared at the place they’d lived together, her own heart had finally become clear to her.
“I went to a hotel,” she spoke clearly and calmly.
“Why? Saff, I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been going out of my mind with worry.”
She bit down on her lip. “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“But you knew how I’ve been. My God, you disappeared into thin air.
” He moved across to kneel before her, his eyes scanning her face hungrily.
His hair flopped forward over his brow; he was handsome.
Very handsome. She could see why Anita had fallen for him.
And surely she must have, to have taken the step of sleeping with her best friend’s husband.
“I needed to think, Jordan.”
He nodded, his hand solicitously placed on her knee. “And?”
She swallowed. This was it. The words she’d rehearsed again and again. “I want a divorce.”
Jordan flinched as though she’d slapped him. The flesh around his thin lips went white. She stared at it, fascinated that she could see some fine veins pulsing purple. “What?”
“A divorce.” Saphire licked her lower lip.
“Darling, you’re being extreme,” he laughed, shaking his head in that patronizing way of his.
“No,” she intoned flatly. “I’m being entirely reasonable.”
“Your feelings were hurt. You felt hurt. Wronged.” As she opened her mouth to interject he laughed again. “You had every right to feel that way. I wish I could do something to take that away. I never could have imagined you’d find out in that way.”
Saphire pursed her lips. “I shouldn’t have found out at all.”
He frowned.
“There shouldn’t have been anything for me to find out.”
He nodded, belatedly comprehending. “Right, of course. Saffy, it’s over with Anita. It should never have begun. I love you.”
“No,” she smiled wistfully. “You don’t.”
“I love you,” he responded firmly.
“If you loved me you could never have hurt me like that.” She ignored her own dull, throbbing denial.
After all, she loved Thaddeus, and yet she’d hurt him.
Badly. “If you loved me, you would never have slept with my closest friend behind my back. If you loved me, you would never have treated me with such disrespect. You don’t love me. And maybe you never did.”
“How can you say that?” His expression was perfect; he looked, to all the world, like a truly wounded man. Only Saphire understood him so much better now. She knew what motivated him, and it wasn’t love. Nor was it loyalty.
“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I don’t love you either. I can’t pinpoint when I started to fall out of love with you. But gradually, and a long while ago, I did. I don’t love you. I want a divorce.”
He stood up and paced across the room. Despite the earliness of the hour, he poured himself a measure of whiskey and threw it back.
“I won’t let you do this to me,” he said when he spun around.
She grimaced. “What did you think would happen? You must have known I wouldn’t put up with it.”
“You weren’t supposed to find out,” he blathered, spittle pooling in the corners of his lips.
“No,” she shook her head, and her laugh now was genuine. “But I did. And that was your mistake, not mine.”
“You were having lunch with your mother.”
“God, Jordan, it wasn’t the first time you slept with her. Presumably it wasn’t the last. If I hadn’t walked in on you, I would have found out soon enough another way. Secrets like that can never be kept. You’re a lawyer. You should know all this. No secret is perfect.”
“It’s over. Anita’s nothing to me.”
“Don’t say that,” Saphire’s words were haunted. “If it was truly just meaningless sex then it would all have been for nothing. I’ve lost my best friend. I’ve lost you. And what for?”
“You haven’t lost me! And Anita’s missing you like crazy.”
Saphire honed in on the statement. “So you’ve seen her since then?”
His mouth worked over time. “I’ve … yes. But only because we had to talk. About you. She’s full of remorse. As am I.”
Another lie; she would have bet her life on it. “Great. So you should be. But that has little effect on my decision.”
“Divorce? I don’t want that.”
“I don’t care.” Saphire stood with a purposeful elegance from the chair and picked an imaginary piece of lint off her dress. “This isn’t a debate. It’s a decision, and I’ve made it.”
“Come on, Saff. We’ve been together for a decade of our lives. Surely you can’t just throw it all away …”
“You’re the one who did that,” she reminded him firmly.
“I came here today with a heap of questions for you. Curiosity is natural under the circumstances, I suppose. I wanted to know how long it had been going on. I wanted to know if there’s been anyone else.
I wanted to know why you even married me.
But as soon as I saw you I realized how little any of that matters. ”