I turn on my heel and stride away toward the fireplace, Jon following closely behind. “You want proof?” I can hear him muttering in low, incredulous tones. “What, like... you have a strawberry mark on your left buttock?” “I don't” I swivel around in triumph, then stop abruptly as Eric glances across the room at us. “I don't know how you came up with this amazing use of light!” I wave at Eric, who waves back and continues his conversation. “I know you don't have a birthmark on your buttock.” Jon rolls his eyes. “You don't have any birthmarks at all. Just a mole on your arm.” I'm briefly silenced. He's right. But so what? “That could be a lucky guess.” I fold my arms. “I know. But it's not.” He looks at me steadily. “Lexi, I'm not making it up. We're having an affair. We love each other. Deeply and passionately.” “Look.” I thrust my hands through my hair. “This is just... mad! I wouldn't have an affair. Not with you or anyone. I've never been unfaithful to anybody in my life” “We had sex on that floor four weeks ago,” he cuts me off. “Right there.” He nods at a huge fluffy white sheepskin. I stare at it speechlessly. “You were on top,” he adds. “Stop it!” Flustered, I wheel around and stride away toward the far end of the space, where a trendy Lucite staircase rises to a mezzanine level. “Let's take a look at the wet room complex,” Jon says loudly as he follows me up. “I think you'll like i t . . .” “No, I won't,” I shoot over my shoulder. “Leave me alone.“ 200 We both reach the top of the staircase and turn to look over the steel balustrade. I can see Eric on the level below, and beyond, the lights of London through the massive windows. I have to hand it to him, it's a staggering apartment. Beside me, Jon is sniffing the air. ”Hey,“ he says. ”Have you been eating salt and vinegar chips?“ ”Maybe.“ I give him a suspicious look. Jon's eyes open wide. ”I'm impressed. How did you sneak those past the food fascist?“ ”He's not a food fascist,“ I say, feeling an immediate need to defend Eric. ”He just... cares about nutrition.“ ”He's Hitler. If he could round up every loaf of bread and put it in a camp, he would.“ ”Stop it.“ ”He'd gas them all. Finger rolls first. Then croissants.“ ”Stop it.“ My mouth twists with an urge to giggle and I turn away. This guy is funnier than I thought at first. And he's kind of sexy, close up, with his rumpled dark hair. But then, lots of things are funny and sexy. Friends is funny and sexy. It doesn't mean I'm having an affair with it. ”What do you want?“ At last I turn to face Jon, helpless. ”What do you expect me to do?“ ”What do I want?“ He pauses, his brow knitted as though he's thinking it through. ”I want you to tell your husband you don't love him, come home with me, and start a new life together.“ He's serious. I almost want to laugh. ”You want me to come and live with you,“ I say, as though to clarify arrangements. ”Right now. Just like that.”
“In, say, five minutes.” He glances at his watch. “I have a few things to do first.” “You're a total psycho.” I shake my head. “I'm not a psycho,” he says patiently. “I love you. You love me. Really. You have to take my word on that.” “I don't have to take your word on anything!” I suddenly resent his confidence. “I'm married, okay? I have a husband whom I love, whom I've promised to love forever. Here's the proof!” I brandish my wedding ring at him. “This is proof!” “You love him?” Jon ignores the ring. “You feel love for him? Right deep down here?” He thumps his chest.
I want to snap “Yes, I'm desperately in love with Eric” and shut him up for good. But for some ridiculous reason I can't quite bring myself to lie. “Maybe it's not quite there yet... but I'm sure it will be,” I say, sounding more defiant than I meant to. “Eric's a fantastic guy. Everything's wonderful between us.” “Uh-?huh.” Jon nods politely. “You haven't had sex since the accident, have you?” I stare at him mistrustfully. “Have you?” There's a glint in his eye. “ I . . . w e . . . ” I flounder. “Maybe we have, maybe we haven't! I'm not in the habit of discussing my private life with you.” “Yeah, you are.” There's a sudden wryness in his face. “You are. That's the point.” To my surprise he reaches for one of my hands. He just holds it for a moment, looking at it. Then, very slowly, he starts tracing over the skin with his thumb. I can't bring myself to move. My skin is fizzing; his thumb is leaving a trail of delicious sensation wherever it goes. I can feel tiny prickles up the back of my neck. 202 “So what do you think?” Eric's booming voice heralds us from below and I jump a mile, whipping my hand away. What was I thinking? “It's great, darling!” I trill back over the balustrade, my voice unnaturally high. “We'll just be a couple more seconds . . .” I draw back, out of sight of the floor below, and beckon Jon to follow. “Look, I've had enough,” I say in a swift undertone. “Leave me alone. I don't know you. I don't love you. Things are hard enough for me right now. I just want to get on with my life, with my husband. Okay?” I make to head down the stairs. “No! Not okay!” Jon grabs hold of my arm. "Lexi, you don't know the whole picture. You're unhappy with Eric.