Rob’s behaviour upset her. Jason’s reaction to it upset her even more.
What if Jason was cheating on her and he was already working out how to hide his money so she got just enough?
She went into her dressing room and slipped off the silver dress, leaving on her underwear and pulling on a dressing gown before heading into the bathroom. In front of the mirror, she began taking off her make-up and as she worked, all she could see was crêping skin and wrinkles, places where her face had once been youthful and where now, all the dermatological work in the world couldn’t hide the passage of time.
She didn’t think she looked her age. Models could age beautifully. But hey, who was she kidding?
Her husband could easily be screwing a twenty- or thirty-something like Anka. He might be working all the details out now. Evelyn might think Jason would never look at another woman, but that could all be bullshit. He might be on the phone to her right now in his study, whispering that he’d tell his wife soon, that they’d be together . . .
‘What’s really bugging you, Callie?’
Jason stood in the bathroom, shirt open, tie off, cuffs opened.
He still had a tan from their last holiday: he only had to look at the sun to go dark. And he was toned. He and Rob were always at gyms when they were away.
They’d completed one triathlon together. Sworn off them altogether because it was too hard to combine all their travelling with the training, but still, they worked out.
She could see his defined abdominal muscles, the strength in his pectorals. With the blue eyes startlingly pale against his tanned face, he looked every bit as handsome as when she’d first fallen in love with him.
‘You,’ she said, blinking back tears and wishing she didn’t feel so emotional all the time.
Damn this perimenopause.
‘What about me?’ his face softened and he moved to take her in his arms.
‘I don’t want to be like Evelyn. I don’t want to be discarded with you figuring out how to appease me, how much money to give to me so you can get on with your new life—’
‘What gave you that idea?’ he demanded. ‘I’m going nowhere. There is nobody else. Why did you even think that? Hey, I was proud of you this evening because those idiots at the table nearby were staring at you and I was thinking “she’s my wife, guys – hands off!” Why would I leave?’
With his arms around her, Callie allowed herself to sink into her husband’s embrace. She leaned her head against him, letting all the pent-up worry flood out of her.
‘I love you, only you. And Poppy, our own Teenager From Hell!’ he joked. ‘I adore you both, you never have to doubt me. Don’t you believe me?’
‘Yes,’ she sniffled. ‘But you’ve been so preoccupied lately, busy, not talking and I thought—’
‘You’re one crazy woman,’ he said, and swooped her up in his arms. ‘I don’t care if you’re not finished with the creams and the serums, honey, you’re coming with me. Now. To bed. To have wild sex.’
‘I’m getting old,’ wailed Callie.
‘We’re getting older,’ corrected Jason, negotiating the bedroom door with his foot. ‘So what? You’re still as beautiful today as you were when I met you.’
He laid her on the bed, pulled off his shirt and trousers until he was down to his boxers.
‘Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and into a nice warm bed,’ he said.
Callie laughed.
‘They’re not wet,’ she said.
‘Work with me here,’ he said, unclasping her nude bra and letting her small breasts spill out into his hands. ‘Definitely wet,’ he murmured, leaning down to suck her nipples. ‘And these . . .’
His hands found her panties, a wisp of lace. He reached past the lace to touch her and she arched her back.
She felt ready for him: soft and ready, unlike so often lately when she’d felt as if lovemaking was akin to having her desert body invaded.
But tonight, now, she felt sexual and loved. Desirable.
The next morning, Callie practically danced down the stairs to the kitchen. Her body ached pleasurably, the tiredness of lovemaking she hadn’t felt for a long time.
So, she thought, looking at herself in the mirror as she shrugged into a sweatshirt and sweatpants, you’re not twenty anymore.
Who gave a damn?
You’re a modern, intelligent woman with a man who loves you and get over yourself with your neuroses and your fears of your husband cheating.
No man who was cheating on his wife could make love to her twice in one night when they’d been together for over twenty years.
Beat that, you smug young things, Callie thought.
Mug of coffee in hand, she wandered into the newly completed conservatory, where Jason sat at one end of a huge Norwegian table, the Sunday papers spread out in front of him.
‘Hi honey,’ she said, leaning over Jason and giving him a lingering kiss on the mouth.
He didn’t kiss her back.
‘Your ex is all over the news again,’ he said.
Callie sighed. She hadn’t had enough boyfriends to wonder which one – and only one of them had become one of the most famous men in the world. Damned Ricky.
She’d dated him for three wonderful years, but by the time she turned twenty-one, Ricky was an addict. Callie had ended it, terrified by the ferocity of his addiction. Ricky had gone to London, made it big there and then vanished totally from her life.
It was years since she’d seen him and yet thanks to Tanner being one of the world’s biggest rock bands, who seemed to have an endless supply of hits, Ricky and the band were often in the papers.
Nothing could be more guaranteed to make Jason furious with jealousy than newspaper coverage of Ricky.
Callie was used to it. The trick, she’d learned, was to deal with Jason’s fierce jealousy by pretending utter indifference, even dislike.
‘I guess I should be pleased that you get jealous over my old boyfriends,’ she said, determined to tease him out of his misery. Last night had been wonderful: he’d made her feel loved and she’d understood that things were tricky in work right now, which was why he’d been distant.
She was not going to let Ricky ruin it.
When Jason had gone into the office, Callie took a quick look at the papers.
There was a piece on Ricky, who was recording a new album. People were still talking about his amazing and enlightening talk at Davos about climate change. Jason would have given his right arm, left leg and the Ferrari to be asked to speak at Davos, but it was never going to happen. Callie knew that. But Ricky, her first ever boyfriend, first lover, and one of the most famous men in the world, had been asked and had been a huge success.