The Conversation

"Katie, I really like you; I love you." he announced, looking straight ahead.

They were sitting in his car outside her home, too warm because she had insisted on closing the windows so the neighbours wouldn't hear. Not that the neighbours cared. They didn't know her, and couldn't know how long she had resisted getting in this car; the danger she was in prickled along her skin, but remained invisible. Maybe the heat wasn't even provided by the weak British sun; maybe it was the electricity buzzing between them.

He turned to see her reaction; she ran her fingers along the door handle beside her, unable to meet his eyes.

Katie knew what happened next; she had this conversation in her head a thousand times.

"I like you too but we can't do anything about it. You're married."

"I don't care."

...

Wait, that wasn't how it went.

He was supposed to say:

"You're right. I'm glad we're on the same page."

or

"I know that, but it's so hard."

or even

"I know, that's why we should never see each other again."

She tried again, sure she would find Mr Noble Good-Husband-and-Father in there somewhere.

"Don't you think an affair would be awful for your wife?"

"Only if she knows about it." he burst out.

Katie realised she wasn't reacting according to his playscript, either. A sudden rage flared in her.

All these months she had been sure she was trapped in a romantic tragedy, in love with a man who was smart, honourable and someone else's, and trying not to show it. She had even thought she was imagining the looks he gave her, sure her own delusion was causing her to imagine her feelings were returned. Now here he was, trying to make her into the other woman and certain she would accept the role.

He was clearly dealing with an imaginary version of her, too.

"I am not having an affair with you!"

"I can do it. I would never ask you to have a relationship with me if I wasn't sure I could handle it. No-one will ever know about us."

"I will!"

He looked as bewildered as she felt.

He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated; for the first time, she thought how silly he looked with it all sticking up.

"I'll be really careful. I promise. It'll be a secret."

"Some things are wrong even if people don't know about them."

He laughed. "If you are worried about sin, go to church and confess."

Her mouth dropped open. His irreligious irreverence had always appealed to her; she hadn't realised it translated to no morals at all as far as he was concerned.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath of the sultry air. She inhaled the cologne she had once loved to find hanging in the air after his leaving a room. She remembered her therapist's perpetually useless advice: make new friends, find hobbies, mindfully distract yourself.

Seeing the real him had been a much quicker cure for her romantic obsession.

Opening her eyes again, she looked at him in disgust.

"I will never have an affair with you. Not ever."

She opened the car door, got out and slammed it shut without saying goodbye.

If you liked this story, you might like more love-gone-wrong in Stolen Hearts.

Let me know what you thought of this story in the comments, please. :)