clothes. Plus, noticed you were messaging on your phone during the barbecue on Saturday. So what's going on? Who is he? Are you doing it again?* Mum takes a moment to process all the 'evi-dence' I have just presented her with before she fixes her eyes on mine and doesn't break contact until she has finished talking. 'I am not having an affair, I promise you, she tells me. 'If I was seen with a man in town, it was someone from my yoga class, but I have lots of friends there now. And that's all the exercise I have been getting, exercise that both you and your sister told me to do after my affair because you wanted me to channel my energy in more positive ways. Sorry for shopping, but can't a retired woman treat herself to nice things when she likes? I have worked all my life to be able to afford nice things. And as for messaging during the bar-becue, I'm not going to apologise for having friends to keep in touch with. Nor am I sorry for how I have spent every single day since my affair ended being the best version of myself that I can be and that means I am not being intimate with anybody expect your farther have u got that ???

Page 167 | Highlight It's far worse than I could have imagined. Now I know why Spencer cried out for help a few moments ago. It's because somebody was hurting him. But I'm too late to give him that help he so desperately needed. I'm too late because my husband is already dead. Note:oh wow didnt see that coming omg what did Lilly do.

The lack of a reply is doing nothing to make me feel better, and as I reach the top of the stairs, I feel stone-cold sober, as if all the wine in my body has evaporated and I've been dragged out of my blissful state next door and dragged back into the real world at home. oh no something not right, but what!!!

"Get on the bed,' I tell him, making the effort to sound as stern as possible, out purely for sexual effect. "Are you sure this is what you want?' Spencer asks me, but I just wait for him to make his move, and he does, getting onto the bed and lying back, his head on the same pillow he used to lay down on every night.

he concedes he's fighting a losing battle and lowers them again. 'It's not?' is all he can say as I shift my weight slightly, feeling empowered, not just by the alcohol I've consumed but the current hold I seem to have over my husband. 'No, I want something else too, I say confi-dently. 'Something that I'm not going to let you leave this house until you have given it me "I want you,' I say, spelling it out for him as the music continues to play in the background, adding to what I hope is the erotic ambience inside this house right now.