The Wife – Part Three: In Sickness and In Health

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2018

Copyright © M L Roberts 2018

Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

Cover design by Ellie Game © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

M L Roberts asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Ebook Edition © January 2018 ISBN: 9780008259884

Version: 2017–12–08

For my husband. His constant support has been everything.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Ten Months Ago …

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

It was meant to be nothing.

A bit of fun.

Trivial.

Meaningless.

Sex.

That’s all it was, for me.

That’s all it was supposed to be, for him …

I don’t know why we’re here. I don’t want to be here. I didn’t want this party, neither did Michael, not really. He’s just trying to get things back to normal. Trying to get us back to normal. I think he’s wasting his time.

Four months ago, something devastating happened.

I lost our baby.

Four months ago, I was also told I would never have another one.

Four months ago, our lives, our whole fucking world, it changed. Forever. And I can’t deal with it.

‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Ellie?’

I look at my husband. Renowned English Literature lecturer. Handsome. Popular. Everyone loves Professor Michael Travers, including those who have no right to.

I drain my glass of whisky, my eyes never leaving his. ‘I’m not even close.’

‘Jesus Christ …’

‘Denial is your way of dealing with things, Michael. Drink is mine.’

‘I’m not talking to you in this state.’

‘You don’t talk to me in any state, do you? You don’t even touch me … when was the last time we had sex? Hmm? When was the last time you made me feel anything?’

He moves a little closer, his eyes blazing, his voice so low it’s almost a hiss. I’m pushing him. Fine. That’s good. He needs pushing. ‘I’m not doing this here, Ellie. Pull yourself together, for goodness’ sake.’ He leans in even closer, his mouth almost touching my ear as he speaks. ‘Let’s just move on, okay?’

He backs off, turns around and walks away, back to the party. Our anniversary party. Fourteen years we’ve been married. Fourteen wonderful, happy years. Ellie and Michael – the perfect couple. Even tragedy couldn’t tear us apart, at least, that’s what everyone thinks, thanks to Michael’s desperate need to paper over the cracks of a marriage that’s breaking. Cracks that are growing bigger by the day.

I pour myself another drink, swallow the whisky down in one; I can feel it burn my throat, settle in my belly. But it’s going down like water as I’m feeling no effects, I’m not even remotely drunk. I wanted the edge taken off. This hasn’t even clipped it.

‘Hey.’

Liam’s hand lightly brushes the small of my back as he joins me at the counter in the kitchen. I look up at him. ‘Hey.’

He grabs a beer from the fridge and leans back against it, looking out ahead of him. ‘It was nice of Ed and Claire, to organize this party.’

‘Yes. It was.’

I drop my gaze, stare down into my empty glass.

‘Not in the party mood though, huh?’

I throw him a small smile. ‘People just want me and Michael to get back to the way we were.’ I shrug. ‘They want us to be happy.’

‘Are you? Happy?’

I hold his gaze, he knows the answer to that. He doesn’t have to ask that question. ‘Are you?’

He comes over to me. He returns his hand to the small of my back, and leans in so close to me I feel his breath on my neck. ‘I could be happier.’

I watch him walk away. Dr Liam Kennedy. Tall, handsome, my husband’s best friend. My best friend.

Grabbing what’s left of the bottle of whisky, I slip outside into Ed and Claire’s garden. It’s quieter out here, bar one or two smokers over on the terrace. I just need some air, to escape the pretence for a few minutes.