Salt and Sweet (The Salt Collection #1)

Chapter 1

Emmy

“Make a wish!” Annabel shouts from across the table as a huge and slightly wonky cake is laid before me.

The words ‘Happy Birthday Emmy’ are piped haphazardly across the generous frosting and the whole thing is listing slightly, as if it’s about to collapse.

Annabel beams at me, a smear of frosting still on her cheek. At five years old, my goddaughter is an enthusiastic baker – though not necessarily gifted in ensuring her creations have structural integrity.

I dutifully close my eyes and blow out the candles. I make a wish.

Half an hour later, I’ve got a mouth full of birthday cake and a toddler balanced on each leg.

Annabel’s taken to feeding me herself and is giggling as she hovers another forkful in front of my nose.

My hands are full holding her brothers up and the scene is as chaotic as it is wholesome.

I smile back at Annabel as Austin, the smaller of the twins, wipes a chocolatey hand across my white T-shirt.

“Austin! Auntie Emmy is not a napkin! Annabel! Emmy might have had enough by now darling; you don’t want to make her sick,” chides Chloe, my best friend and mother to all the small children surrounding me.

She gives me an apologetic look as she whisks Austin away in search of a wet wipe, leaving me with Ben and Annabel. Ben gives me a toothy smile as chocolatey drool lands on my jeans.

“Lucky, I don’t have any big plans tonight, kiddo,” I say, mussing his hair. He snuggles into me and my T-shirt is toast. I wonder if chocolate frosting stains.

“Darling, please have another drink. I’m so sorry about your outfit. Kids!” Chloe chuffs, thrusting a glass of white wine into my hand and toasting me with a clink. “Happy birthday, gorgeous. 32! And thriving!”

I laugh and raise my glass, beaming back at her.

Chloe’s been my best friend since we were 13.

She insisted on throwing me a party when she discovered my husband, Colin, was going to be away for the weekend, working on a deal for the job he’s married to.

I didn’t mind much but Chloe was outraged that Colin didn’t think that my birthday was a priority. She’s good like that.

“What’s his excuse this time then?” she says, perching on the sofa and stealing Ben from my lap.

Austin bangs a wooden spoon on a pan at my feet as Annabel starts up a rousing rendition of Let it Go from the next room. My cake has been abandoned on the floor. Chloe grimaces but I just laugh. I love these kids.

“A deal is on the line,” I deadpan back. “You know he’s very committed to making partner this year. It’s fine.” I wave a hand around as if physically dispelling any hurt I might have felt at playing second fiddle yet again.

Chloe gives me a look. “It’s not fine though, is it? It’s your birthday. He couldn’t take a night off? Did he get you a present at least?”

“I’m sure there will be something waiting at home for me,” I muse, taking a big gulp of sauvignon blanc. I’m not actually sure but I don’t really want to give Chloe any more ammo.

She’s hugely protective of me and hasn’t liked Colin in the entire time I’ve known him.

I met him when I was 18. It was love at first sight for me but he’s never been good enough in Chloe’s eyes.

I’m not sure anyone would be. My parents died in a car accident the year we met and she’s loved me with the ferocity of a sister ever since.

Colin and I had a whirlwind romance and married young.

He’s been chasing his dream of becoming partner at his firm for the last few years and I’ve been busy building a steady career in the charity sector.

Our worlds couldn’t be further apart but we’ve been together for over a decade – I don’t expect perfection.

Chloe on the other hand struck gold with her husband.

She met Joshua, an engineer with a great smile and an irrepressible sense of humour, when we were 24.

They’ve been together for eight years and can barely keep their hands off each other.

He’s attentive, and kind, and treats her like a queen.

Exactly as Chloe deserves. He’s also really goofy, which means he’s basically the perfect dad.

As if my thoughts have summoned him, Josh appears in the doorway with an open bottle of wine.

“Top up, ladies?” he calls, waggling the bottle.

“Please!” Chloe replies for us both, grinning.

“So, 32! What are your grand plans for the year?” Josh plonks down on the sofa next to us and pours us all a fresh glass.

I take a sip of wine before I answer.

Life’s felt a bit… stagnant lately. I’m so lucky – I’ve got a great job, an amazing bestie, the most adorable goddaughter, a husband, and a lovely house in Zone 2. On paper, I have it all.

So why don’t I feel excited by anything?

I plaster a smile on my face. “All I hope is that this year brings a few surprises and a lot of adventures, especially with my favourite five-year-old!”

I divert to tickle Annabel who’s waltzed back into the room wearing an Elsa dress, but Chloe gives me a side eye, raising a brow. She’s not convinced and neither am I. But birthdays are about wine, not about existential crises, so she doesn’t push it further.

Josh grins at me and toasts to a year of adventures. I relax back into the sofa.

A few adventures definitely wouldn’t go amiss.

As I make my way home a few hours later, arms loaded with presents and artwork from Annabel, I feel awash with contentment and fuzzy from the wine.

I spent my birthday playing pass the parcel and pin the horn on the unicorn, which might not be everyone’s idea of a party, but I’m coming home with a smile on my face.

Annabel was chief party planner and even made party bags for us all.

Mine has a sticker book and some colouring pencils in it, along with a little orange ball that’s weirdly satisfying to squish.

I suspect I’ll be on a sugar high for the rest of the week based on the amount of birthday cake I’ve eaten. And the two bottles of wine that Chloe, Josh, and I polished off.

I’d been planning to stay over tonight but I’ve got a busy week coming up at work, so I said my goodbyes after supper. The jaunt back from suburbia has sobered me up a bit and I’m looking forward to climbing into bed with my book when I get in.

I’m almost back when I spot Colin’s car in the driveway. It’s a big white BMW, a tad ostentatious for my taste. Colin must be the only man left in London who drives himself into the office every day.

I’m amazed he’s home early and get a flutter of excitement – maybe he’s planned a surprise for me after all?

He’s not really into birthdays but perhaps he’s made an exception this year.

Maybe it will be the spark that ignites some passion back into our marriage.

We’ve been running on autopilot so long I barely remember the last time we properly connected.

Colin’s hardly a romantic but there was a time when we couldn’t get enough of each other.

Some hot birthday sex could be just what we need. God knows it’s been a while.

I open the door and drop my bags and gifts on the kitchen table, looking around for signs of him.

His shoes aren’t in the shoe rack and the house is weirdly quiet.

The living room is empty too, though there’s an open bottle of red on the coffee table.

Curious. I picture him waiting for me with a glass of red in hand, running me a bubble bath and sigh at the thought.

It would be so nice to feel looked after for a night.

I open the fridge out of habit. We desperately need to do a grocery shop.

Colin doesn’t cook and if he had his way, he’d only eat protein-filled ready meals from some bougie website for sporty people.

I’m much more interested in cooking from scratch – give me a rich carbonara over a grilled chicken and rice bowl any day.

Failing to find inspiration in the fridge, I decide to look for Colin.

I kick off my shoes and pad up the stairs. Normally I’d call out to say I’m back but something tells me to keep quiet.

If he’s planned a surprise then it will be way more fun to sneak up on him. And if he’s not, I can throw myself into bed with my favourite vibrator.

I hear a few muffled noises and deduce that he is in fact home.

I can hear my own heart beating as I get to the landing.

What’s he got planned? The thrill of walking in on my own surprise sends butterflies careening around my stomach.

I’m suddenly excited to see my husband for the first time in ages.

Who needs a big birthday gift? I’d be thrilled with just an orgasm that wasn’t delivered by yours truly at this point.

I’m nearly at our bedroom door when I hear a muffled thump. I pause, cocking my head as I try and work out what I just heard. Then I hear a breathy gasp and a loud moan. My heart stops in my chest. There’s another gasp and a muffled groan, followed by a loud slap and a squeal.

I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing.

He is in our room.

He isn’t alone.

A buzzing sound fills my ears as I push open our bedroom door.

The scene before me is so cliched, I actually laugh out loud.

Colin, my husband of 10 years, is buried balls-deep in a redhead I’ve met a few times before.

He’s fucking her from behind so he sees me instantly and freezes, mouth open, as I stand there staring.

The redhead squeals and tries to cover herself with my goddamn pyjamas, which are next to the pillow she’s had her face pressed into. My pillow.

Well, at least I was right about one thing.

He has surprised me with birthday sex. It’s just not with me.

“Em! What are you doing here?!” he yells, pulling his cock out of Stacey, whose name has just come back to me.

Stacey is a junior on his team at work. She’s probably about 23 and has mermaid hair, always tousled in soft ringlets.

She’s got a smattering of freckles across her nose and honestly, I get the appeal, because she looks like a slutty Disney princess.

She squeaks and pulls the whole duvet over herself as Colin grabs his boxers from the floor and yanks them on.

I can still hear her whimpering from under the covers.

Come on Stacey, have some self-respect.

“Are you kidding me?! It’s my fucking birthday and you’re screwing someone else in our bed?!”

I’m not even shouting as he strides over to me, face like thunder. I can feel my heart cracking, the feeling of betrayal splintering through my body like broken glass. I might be sick.

“It’s not what it looks like, ok?”

“Well, it looks like you had your cock buried in Stacey here, or is this some new team bonding exercise they’re mandating at the firm now?” I spit back.

My heart is hammering at 100mph. I suddenly taste metal and realise I’ve bitten my lip so hard that it’s bleeding.

I will not cry. I will not cry in front of them.

“Get out,” I say, crossing my arms. “Both of you get out.”

“Babe, please. We can talk about this. I thought you were staying at Chloe’s tonight, I never imagined you’d be back. You can’t just kick me out over something small. You’re overreacting.”

“Something small?!” I hiss. “Something SMALL? The only thing that’s small is your shrivelling cock, now get. The. Fuck. Out.” I enunciate each word, staring at him without blinking. I do not deserve this shit.

Rage and pain fight for dominance in my body as adrenaline courses through me. All I know is that I need them to get out now.

His expression hardens and I see the moment he pivots his argument before it comes. He’s always been easy to read.

“Emmy, come on. Don’t play the nagging wife, it suits you a little too well. I just needed to blow off steam. You don’t know how fucking stressful this deal is, if we don’t close it then the whole quarter is out!”

I continue to stare at him as revulsion fills my every sense. Who even is this man?

“Please, babe. We don’t have to fall out about this,” he continues. “Everyone does it. It’s fine. It’s normal. Men have needs. We aren’t meant to be monogamous,” he says almost earnestly.

It’s like a switch flips in my brain and all of my swirling feelings coalesce into a single clear thought: this marriage is over.

“Women have needs too, Colin. Or maybe you’ve forgotten that since I haven’t had an orgasm from you in nearly two years. Get out. You’re pathetic, and I’m pathetic for not seeing you for what you are. This is over. We’re done.” I keep my chin up and grit my teeth as he stares at me.

There is enough venom in my voice that he holds his hands up and surrenders.

“Fine. We’ll go.”

Stacey squeaks again as he throws her clothes at the bed and she scrambles to get dressed. I march them to the front door and throw it open, gesturing almost violently for them to leave. I don’t have any more words. My throat feels like it’s closing up and I’m on the brink of breaking down.

The man I’ve lived with for over a decade walks out of our front door.

“I’m sorry,” Stacey whispers as she hurries out behind him. “Happy birthday.”

I slam the door so hard the glass shatters along with my heart.