"But...but...he's being nice to me, but like you'd be nice to a naughty child who was very bold but that you've now decided to forgive. And al- though I'm lot of things, I'm not a naughty child."

"You're probably just paranoid," she said, trying to be helpful.

Thanks, Mum!

"It can't have been easy for him, coming back, eating humble pie, admit- ting that he was wrong."

"But that's just it! He didn't eat humble pie. He barely admitted that he was wrong."

"Claire, your nose is probably out of joint. He didn't arrive back in floods of tears with a whole shop's load of red roses, he didn't beg you to take him back," she suggested.

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"It would have been nice," I admitted.

"But flowers count for nothing. And love does," she said.

"Yes," I agreed despondently.

"I feel like he has me trapped now," I burst out, finally, realizing exactly how I felt. "I've got to be perfect all the time or else he'll leave me again. I can't say a word against him because it'll just prove that I'm only thinking of me. I feel I should be so grateful to be back with him that I can never dare complain about anything ever again. That he can misbehave any way he likes and I have to keep my mouth shut."

"Well, now, you don't have to put up with any more nonsense from him," blustered Mum. "Any suggestion of another woman and come back here immediately."

"Thanks, Mum."

"But in the meantime, be glad you have another chance. And give it a go. Try your best. And I bet you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"I'll try," I promised.

After all, what had I left to lose?

"One other thing," she said a bit awkwardly.

"What's that?"

"I'm not sure that I should tell you."

"What! What aren't you sure that you shouldn't tell me? Tell me, for God's sake," I demanded.

"Well," she said, looking sheepish, "that Adam called."

Adam!

My heart gave a lurch. Or it might have been my stomach. Sure as any- thing something lurched.

"When?" I demanded breathlessly. I felt excited, dizzy, happy. You know, the way James should have been making me feel.

"A few times," she admitted, looking very sheepish indeed. "Yesterday morning. Yesterday afternoon when you were asleep. Last night when you were out."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you needed any distractions while you were sorting things out with James," she said humbly.

"You should have let me be the judge of that," I said, annoyed.

A thought struck me.

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"You didn't tell him where I was last night, did you?" I asked quickly.

"Yes," she said, sounding defensive, "I said you were out with your husband. Why shouldn't I? It was the truth, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but..." I trailed off.

What did it matter now? I was going back to London. I was going back to James. No more Adam.

But I had to see him. I had to say good-bye. I had to thank him for being so nice to me. For making me feel so beautiful and desirable and interesting and special.

"Did he leave a number?" I asked hopefully.

"Er, no," she said, looking away shamefacedly.

"Maybe he'll call again," I said, a bit frantically.

"Maybe," she agreed doubtfully.

What had she told him?

"And if he does, I want to talk to him, do you hear?" I told her.

"No need to bite my bloody head off," she muttered.

True to his word, James called me later on Tuesday evening to say that he had arrived back safely. Had I set a date yet for my return?

"No, not yet," I said weakly, "but soon, I promise."

"Just make sure it is," he said with a suggestive leer in his voice. Which actually made a spasm of dread--fear, almost--run through me. The thought of sleeping with him, having sex with him again, was not a pleasant one.

As soon, as I--gratefully--hung up on James, the phone rang again.

It was Adam!

Beautiful, tall, kind, funny, sweet Adam.

"Hello, Claire," he said in his gorgeous voice.

"Hi, Adam." I felt so happy to hear him. I felt all girlie and giggly and tingly and simpery.

"I hear congratulations are in order," he said in a cold, hard voice.

It was a bucket of cold water on my warm delight at hearing from him.

"Wh...what do you mean?" I asked. I was some hard-hearted bitch who had seduced him for the fun of it. Who had

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no real interest in him. Now that my husband was back I had no further use for him.

"Helen just told me that you're going back to London. Going back to James," he said accusingly.

"Well, that's right," I said apologetically. "I feel as though I must. You know, for Kate's sake."

"And what about for your sake?" he asked.

I wanted to burst into tears. I felt like telling him that I was thoroughly miserable at the thought of going back to that judgmental, sanctimonious pig.

As you can see, James was growing worse in my eyes with every second that passed. Adam was growing more desirable and attractive. I ached to be with him.

But I couldn't tell him that. I had to make a go of things with James. Wishing that I could be with someone else was not exactly productive.

"I'll be okay," I told him.

"It certainly looks that way," he said bitterly.

I felt too ashamed to say anything.

"And what about my sake?" he demanded. "What about me? Didn't Sunday night mean anything to you?"

"Of course it did," I said.

"Well, it can't have meant very much if less than two days later you're going back to another man," he said bluntly.

"Adam, it's not like that..." I tried desperately to explain. "I've got to...I've got to give it another chance."

"Why? He was horrible to you," Adam pointed out.

"Yes, but...you see, it wasn't really his fault."

Adam gave a bark of humorless laughter.

"So whose fault was it, then? Don't tell me. No, please don't tell me. He said it was your fault," he said.