Joker in the Pack (Romantic Suspense, Completed, Watty Winner)

Chapter 2

I took another sip, okay, gulp of wine as I rued the choices I'd made over the last two years. Of course, dating Edward was my biggest mistake, but that had led to a whole host of smaller problems. I'd become too reliant on him.

"Let's go out for supper with Ferdinand and Petronella," he'd said all too often. Other days, it was a trip to the opera or drinks in Chelsea, and he'd always expected me to be available at the drop of a hat to accompany him.

I'd secretly loved that. I enjoyed going to the opera too. Well, apart from the singing. And sitting still for two hours. Fine, I liked having ice cream in the interval and being seen out with Edward, who nobody could deny was heart-stoppingly handsome.

So, when work contracts came to an end, I hadn't worried about replacing those clients with new ones. Parties with friends had won out, and despite that, I hadn't heard a word from Petronella and co. since three days post-incident. I groaned at the mere thought of that encounter.

Edward had still been insisting that his little indiscretion had all been his PA's fault. She'd come on to him, he claimed. She was only supposed to be in his townhouse to work on a profit-and-loss analysis. And I'd been racked with self-doubt—perhaps he'd strayed because I'd put on a few pounds or hadn't put enough effort into cooking lately? Which was why I'd gone to the gym that Friday afternoon. As if twisting my ankle on the treadmill hadn't been bad enough, I'd been changing in the farthest corner of the locker room when Petronella and an acquaintance walked in. And they were talking about me.

"Apparently Olivia finally found out about Edward and Becki," Petronella said.

"I heard. When I spoke to Becki after yoga, she said Olivia looked totally shocked."

"Really? I'm only surprised it took so long. After all, she didn't notice when he was messing around with the waitress from Norton's every Thursday night."

What? Edward had told me Thursdays were team night at work. A bunch of guys getting together to discuss deals and compare their golf handicaps.

"Or his tennis coach. How long did that affair last? Five months? Six?"

"And don't forget that thing Edward had with that Thai masseuse."

"Pai?"

"Yes, her."

"I always thought she was a man."

"Whatever. She's great at working the kinks out of my shoulders."

I sagged back onto a bench as their voices faded away. How could he? I must have been the laughing stock for months. And worse, if the seminar on web coding I'd been due to attend one fateful Tuesday hadn't been cancelled, and if I hadn't decided to surprise Edward with a nice bottle of burgundy and a selection of Marks & Spencer's finest, I'd still be in the dark.

Only one of our joint friends had phoned me since the split. Beth, my sometimes doubles partner at badminton, a petite brunette married to the CEO of a bathroom design firm. But once I'd finished optimising her lifestyle website for search engines, she'd stopped returning my calls, and when I bumped into her outside the wholefood store a week later, she'd studiously looked the other way.

After that, I'd avoided the gym and the wholefood store—in fact, going out at all. Waitrose delivered the essentials, and apart from my foray back into Edward's apartment with Maddie, I hadn't left the house.

But darn it! That meant Edward had won, and the very thought made me sick.

I couldn't even cook properly. Normally, I loved baking, and barely a day passed without me turning the oven on and making a cake or a quiche or a batch of cookies. But I'd spent the last month living on junk food.