Chapter Fifty-Two: Liar

My gaze lingers on the orange glow of the streetlights while my mind centres on the sounds of the cars whooshing past us.

My sex is fine now. Other than mild tickling sensations that will go away after three or four rinses in the shower. I am fine.

Well, I guess the dull ache choking my throat is something else entirely.

"You've been quiet for a while now."

Christopher comments as he makes a turn to the estate.

Of course, I have been quiet. Yesterday, I went to bed and woke up believing that he liked me, that I could have him wrapped around my finger if I tried, and that gave me the confidence to say no to him at the club, and now, I realise that I had gotten ahead of myself.

I almost ruined the marriage.

There is no divorce, but if perchance he changes his mind, I'll have nothing. I'll lose the one thing I came into the marriage with—Henry.

He doesn't like or love me; he is curious about me. Is that even the best way to describe it?

Maybe it's more he thinks he likes me.

Fuck... if I