4. Saskia

Chapter 4

Saskia

In the doorway where he once carried me over the threshold, Casper slides one fingertip into the spot where my top crosses into a v-shape at my cleavage. He pulls it towards him and takes a brazen peek.

“Maroon,” he says with a wicked smile. “That's fucking hot.”

I yank his hand away and plaster my back to the wall. “It’s new.”

Henry hangs back on the other side of the living room, and for some reason, I really need him to know this. To know I made a special effort for him. I haven’t thrown on old underwear someone else has already seen and enjoyed.

“So I see. I wouldn’t forget your tits in a bra like that.”

Casper laughs, and I bite back a smile. He has always been a relentless flirt. It’s what drew me to him in the first place. It’s impossible to pretend it doesn’t affect me anymore, even though right now I want to scream at him for being the biggest cockblock on the planet. Turning up just as Henry and I were about to get, shall we say, reacquainted, was not part of my elaborately crafted plan for Christmas.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I thought you would be in London for the holidays. It seems I was mistaken.” He gestures out to the driveway where three cars are now lined up. “And it looks like you have company?”

“I’m sure I told you I’d be here, Casper. And Henry just arrived from New York,” I say, thumbing over my shoulder. “We’re staying here until the new year.”

“Oh.” His tone is curt, and I can’t get a proper read on his reaction in the dim light of the doorway. “How festive.”

He shrugs out of his coat, hanging it on top of mine like he owns the place, which I guess he technically does. Well, half owns.

With me.

His soon to be ex-wife.

“Henry, my buddy,” he booms, stepping into the room.

“Shoes off the carpet,” I yell, and he does his best impression of a naughty schoolboy, quickly tip-toeing back to slip out of his Italian leather brogues.

“Come here, big man, it’s good to see you.”

Casper and Henry do that weird bro-hug thing, where they each have one arm around the waist and the other above the shoulder. It always makes me think they’re about to wrestle, which, given the circumstances of us all being in the same room again, is not outside the realm of possibility.

Casper is a stark contrast to Henry’s casual vibe, but handsome as always, in his trademark black jeans and black t-shirt. He’s definitely not dressed for winter in rural Hertfordshire, which is no surprise given I thought he was spending Christmas with his family.

“Good to see you too, Casper,” Henry says. He steps back, hands plunging into his pockets as his eyes find mine across the room.

The timing could not be worse. My underwear is soaked from the anticipation of the man I’ve wanted for years, finally touching me again. Tonight was supposed to be the start of… well, I don’t know what exactly, but a new beginning for the two of us.

Casper flops down in the middle of the sofa, leaning forward to pick up my glass of wine. He brings it to his nose and inhales deeply.

“This is French,” he scoffs, setting it back down.

“Don’t be such a snob,” I say from where I’m still frozen to the spot by the doorway. “I thought you were in Italy?”

“I had a last-minute meeting with a buyer in Mayfair. He wants to commission six pieces for his new penthouse. I figured this place would be empty.”

“You couldn’t find a hotel?”

“Of course I could,” he laughs, stretching his arms out across the back of the sofa cushions. “But this place has such happy memories for me. For us, my angel. I wanted to visit one last time.”

He turns to look at Henry and even from where I stand behind him, I can tell he has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Henry looks as confused as I am, swaying slightly on the spot, unsure whether to sit, stand, or leave.

I really don’t want him to leave, and I’m not about to let our precious time together be ruined by some pathetic pissing contest because my husband has a jealous streak.

Ex-husband!

“Well, where are you going to stay?” I ask, rounding the sofa with my hands on my hips. “There are only two bedrooms here.”

Henry glances sideways. We hadn’t spoken about it implicitly, but I think it’s pretty obvious he was going to stay in my room. With me.

Despite that, I don’t want the man I’m in the process of divorcing to know I’ve invited another man, my oldest friend no less, to share my bed.

It’s ridiculous. We separated almost a year ago. I’m allowed to sleep with other people, as is he. I just didn’t expect the first time I’d have sex with someone else in fifteen years to be while he was in the house with us.

“We shared a bed for years, angel. I’m sure we can manage one more night.”

The three of us look back and forth at each other in a sort of stand-off until Casper breaks the silence with a laugh.

“I am teasing. I can sleep on the sofa. Henry, you’ll have the guest bedroom and my wife can have our bedroom to herself.”

“ My bedroom,” I correct him.

“If you say so. Is there anything to eat?” he says, smirking up at me. I could punch him in his beautiful mouth.

Our separation has been as civil as they come, and although we still speak regularly, it’s been a few months since we’ve seen each other in person. I’m furious at him for turning up here looking so gorgeous.

One man aging like a fine wine is a treat, two is torture, and I don’t know where to look.

There’s no sane way through this situation except retreating to our separate corners of the cottage and surviving the night. It’s late, and if we can just get through the next few hours, Casper will leave, and Henry and I can get back on track, just a little later than expected.

“You know where the kitchen is. I’m going to go to bed.”

“Sleep well, my beautiful angel,” Casper calls after me.

“You’re leaving in the morning,” I yell back down the stairs.

“As you wish.” I hear him laughing, then making his way to the kitchen.

In my bedroom, I strop about my room as I change into snuggly a top and bottoms, the exact opposite of what I had planned to spend the evening in. I packed them to wear while curled up on the sofa, watching Christmas movies underneath a blanket.

Henry’s suitcase is sitting at the foot of my bed, and the sight of it, closed and unpacked, makes me want to cry. He was going to stay in here. Obviously he was. We didn’t even need to discuss it.

There’s a soft knock at the door, which can only be Henry. Casper would never bother knocking.

“Come in.”

“Hey, just came to grab my stuff and check on you.” He closes the door quietly behind him. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” I say, losing my battle with hanging my skirt in the tiny wardrobe in the corner. “I’m just… I’m so sorry, Henry. I don’t know what he’s doing here and I’m pretty fucking angry about it, to be honest.”

“Hey, it’s OK. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried, I’m just frustrated. This was supposed to be… this is…” I wave my hands back and forth between us. I don’t have the words for whatever this is yet. “I was really looking forward to spending time here, just the two of us.”

Henry closes the space between us and pulls me into his arms, his chin resting on the top of my head. My arms loop around his strong back, and my body lights up being so close to him. I want this, this and more, all week long.

“We’re good, Sass. You and me? We can handle setbacks,” he whispers into my hair, and it’s all the reassurance I need. “You should get some sleep. He’ll be gone in the morning, and you and I can pick up where we left off. OK?”

I lift my chin to catch the look of promise in his eyes. Promise and hunger. His big hands stroke up and down my biceps and I never want him to stop touching me.

“OK. I’m so sorry. I had no idea he would be here, I promise. We’re well and truly over, and he knows that. I don’t know why he’s saying ‘my wife’ and all that shit.”

“That’s just the way he is, but honestly, I’ve waited a long fucking time for you. It’s already late. I can wait a few more hours.” He smiles down at me, gives my bum a hard squeeze, then raises his hands in mock apology. “Sorry, I really needed that. To tide me over.”

I want to kiss him, but if I do, I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself from touching him and taking things further. There are so many things I do with him. Tonight was supposed to end with me screaming his name. Let the man downstairs hear me for all I care.

Henry presses a kiss to my forehead and my heart aches to watch him leave.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, one hand still on the doorknob.

“Tomorrow.”