Read Mad About You for Free Online

her.’
    I bet they do, I thought grimly. ‘Is that right? Well, bully for her.’ I tried to keep my voice neutral. I didn’t want James to see how rattled I was. I wanted to be calm … but, unfortunately, that is not in my nature.
    ‘Do you fancy her?’ I blurted out.
    ‘No.’ He was avoiding my eyes.
    ‘Oh, my God, you do. I can see it in your face.’ I was shocked. I’d never been remotely worried that James would meet someone in work, because 99 per cent of the people he worked with were men. Besides, I just hadn’t imagined he fancied other women any more. I’m not saying he didn’t think some women were good-looking or sexy … but actively fancy them? No. I’d never seen him like this with any of our female friends or his colleagues’ wives or anyone else we socialized with. James was always polite and charming, but never flirty.
    ‘For goodness’ sake, Emma, don’t start making a drama out of nothing. She’s a new colleague I get on well with.’
    ‘Very well, by the look of things,’ I muttered.
    ‘She’s easy to work with. There’s no crime in that,’ he snapped.
    I opened my mouth to protest, but decided to shut it again. He was annoyed and defensive. I didn’t want to push him right into Mandy’s arms. I needed to step away and think about what to do. I changed the subject and tried my best to be breezy, but it was difficult through gritted teeth.
    For the next month I’d watched James like a hawk andpopped in, at different times of the day, to visit him at work. I checked his phone and his laptop when he wasn’t in the room, but didn’t find anything. As Lucy said, it was probably just a little flirtation, and there was no harm in it. But I didn’t feel so blasé. A flirt can lead to a lot more if it isn’t nipped in the bud. A flirt means you’re bored at home. Happily married men don’t flirt.
    James got more sex in the weeks that followed my meeting with Mandy than he knew what to do with. I cranked it up big-time – new lingerie, scented body lotion, candles and even some dirty talk. James seemed very pleased and participated enthusiastically. It ended up being fun for both of us. But I had been shaken by what I’d seen. I realized that I needed to make more of an effort at keeping our marriage interesting and fresh. And although most nights I just wanted to put on my fleecy pyjamas and eat chocolate biscuits in bed while watching bad reality TV, I had to remember that there were two of us in our relationship.
    Then, of course, James had been fired and Mandy was no longer an issue as our life was turned upside-down.
    As I walked the children back to our house, I resolved that this was the night to christen our new home. I’d bought a black lacy body in Dublin, before we left, and I was going to root it out, open a bottle of wine and give James a little reminder of why he’d fallen in love with me.
    I was lost in thought, planning my evening, when I heard, ‘Hey, Sis. Hey, Shrimp. Hey, Gorgeous.’
    It was Babs, climbing out of a taxi, looking amazing, with perfect hair and makeup. She was wearing a ballet-length, halterneck red dress.
    ‘I know, I look ridiculous. This dress is so conservative, but they’ve had complaints about me showing too much flesh on the show. Apparently some frigid cow in Devonthought it was disgraceful to have so much cleavage and thigh on view on an afternoon show. I bet her husband loved it and she just got the hump with him ogling me.’
    I never ceased to wonder where Babs got her confidence. It was colossal. I wished I had half of it.
    ‘You should consider wearing clothes that don’t show off so much flesh more often. You look much nicer and less available,’ I noted, behaving every inch the older sister. But, then, it was true.
    ‘I love your dress. Do a twirl, Babs, do a twirl,’ Lara demanded.
    Babs obliged with a couple of spins. ‘I’ve come straight from the studio to give you the good news. I’m the best sister in the