So here they were, five years on; the happy family on a jolly shopping trip, whilst the ex-wife hid, sobbing in her car. After dinner, Georgie took Holly up to bed; Rosie and Steve retired to the lounge, her on the armchair, him on the sofa. Composing herself, Rosie wiped the tears from her cheeks with a tissue, took the keys from the ignition and got out of the car. Georgie’s thoughts snapped back to the deli counter. “Do me!” She whispered hoarsely, desperately. “Thank you.” She sighed as she rolled onto her back and hugged her pillow. I’ll get a bottle of wine.”
“Okay,” Georgie capitulated, “But it’ll be fruit juice for me.” She touched her stomach. Rosie missed the way he made love to her; she felt foolish for throwing it away after the excitement of her affair with John had dwindled. “Just down for the weekend. John had fucked her before he left on his trip, but she’d needed to finish herself off after he dozed off to sleep.
