Chapter 3
Lauren was still asleep when he came out of the bathroom.
She lay in the centre of the bed, where she’d rolled as he’d left it.
Her butterscotch hair was spread over the pillow and what he could see of her face was plump and pink, slightly creased from being pressed against the bedding all night.
There was a thin sheen of sweat at her temples and her entire body was on full view.
Lauren was never cold, and she slept like a newborn baby.
Increasingly, these days, there were times when he envied her; others when it annoyed the hell out of him.
Still damp from the shower, he found the chillier air of the bedroom cooled him quickly and he checked to see if any windows were open.
Lauren would air the room when she got up and change the sheets, putting them quickly into the laundry.
Soon there’d be no trace of the night they’d spent together.
Feeling a moment of regret that he couldn’t climb back into bed, wrap himself around the furnace that was Lauren’s plump body and sink back into oblivion, he walked to the table beneath the window where his laptop sat.
Pain was forming around his nose and forehead, and he’d woken feeling stiffer and more cumbersome than usual.
Both were sure signs that the barometric pressure was dropping and a storm was coming in.
Sure enough, the clouds out west were moving fast.
He sat and tapped a key to wake up the laptop. His new website, one he’d created himself with no assistance from tech support, was ready to launch. He’d been through it many times but knew it wouldn’t hurt to run one last check.
His photograph dominated the home page. Photoshop had erased the fine lines around his eyes, forehead and jawline, offering a hint of the man he’d been ten years earlier.
He’d been tempted to lower his hairline, darken the hints of grey at his temples, but knew it wouldn’t do to look too handsome.
He wasn’t entirely sure about the font: Bradley Hand suggested he was trying too hard to be hip.
He tried it in a lower size. That was better: craig lewis: fire safety consultant; it made the lower casing look less pretentious.
The menu bar running along the top of the home page invited the user to check out his CV, his contact details including his address in Newquay, client recommendations and the various services he offered.
A sound in the corridor outside made him jump but it was only his German Shepherd, Cobalt, looking for company. The dog gave a low-pitched whine.
‘Good boy,’ he called softly. ‘Back to bed.’
The dog, obedient as ever, pattered away down the corridor. One by one, he proofread the sub-pages. It was good to go. He’d launch it at noon.
Opening his main email account, he checked for urgent messages, followed by WhatsApp, Messenger and his various social media accounts.
Nothing needing immediate attention. Next, he checked the Find My Friends app.
He followed several people with their knowledge, including his two kids, and a few without, including his ex-wife.
All were where he’d have expected them to be.
Last of all he checked the person he probably should have looked at first.
Shit!
Leaning back over the bed, he pulled the duvet away from Lauren and slapped her arse. Solid as a newly peeled boiled egg. He was on the point of doing it again when she grunted in annoyance and rolled away from him.
‘He’s thirty minutes away,’ he told her. ‘You need to hustle.’
Pulling a face, Lauren swung her long, tanned limbs from the bed. As she stood, she caught sight of one of the magazines on the bedside table. ‘Going shopping?’ she asked.
He’d been looking at helicopters, a guilty pleasure.
‘A man can dream.’
They both knew a helicopter was the last thing he’d be buying. ‘And it’s now twenty-five minutes. Get out of here.’
She sashayed to the door, bending to collect her clothes on the way, turning to blow him one last kiss.
He wondered if he might have married her had circumstances been different, and thought perhaps that he would. Assuming, of course, that she hadn’t already been married to his best friend.