and they lived in a small house where even a hiccup could be heard through the walls. No wonder the sofa sagged in the middle.
They did not bother removing their clothes. No foreplay to delay the inevitable clash of pleasure. No awkwardness as they unzipped, unhooked, unbuttoned, undid each other’s resolve to pretend that this was anything other than a familiar ritual. She was moist and ready, sweet and juicy as the apple she had so temptingly held before him. Her desire matched his own, their cries buried in each other’s shoulders as they shuddered into relief. When she moaned he was unsure if the muffled sound was carried on pleasure or pain.
The sofa was uncomfortable, broken springs pressing into their hips, legs cramping as they untangled themselves, the aftertaste of sex on their lips. A slight embarrassment as she fastened her bra, her face averted from him.
In bed, she fell into an exhausted sleep. He tried to imagine waking up beside a different face, a different form — Karin Moylan sauntered into view – but the leap was too great for his imagination. Nadine turned, still sleeping, and slid her arm across his hip. A practiced gesture, as established as his regular breathing when he finally drifted asleep. Her words were out there now, asteroids in space, already spinning off in directions neither of them could foresee.
Chapter 13
T hree weeks had passed since that night. Sometimes, in the throes of work, Jake wondered if he had imagined their entire conversation. Freedom. The word had dangerous connotations and Nadine had teased them out in front of him. Was she crazy? Was he crazy not to listen to her? She had not mentioned their discussion since, nor had he, but ignoring something did not mean it would go away. She was waiting for him to make up his mind. When they were together he was aware of her every movement, each change of expression, the undercurrent of tension behind her words. Had he ever known what went on beneath that storm of red hair?
Small but significant changes were taking place between them. They had not made love since that night. The desire that flamed so swiftly had burned itself out and, now, they lay chastely apart, apologising, almost embarrassed, if they made contact. They avoided intimate actions like walking naked from the shower or dressing in front of each other. They tapped on their office doors before entering and no longer checked each other’s work diaries, something they used to do without a second thought. And the texts he had intended on deleting remained on his phone. New ones arrived from Karin but they no longer lifted his spirits or sank him into a reverie. He was focused on only one thing. The decision he must make. He had the unsettling sensation that a tamed animal might feel when faced with the challenge of an open cage door.
Then Darina Moylan died. Five years in the grip of Alzheimer’s, Darina passed gently away and Karin flew home from for her grandmother’s funeral. It was literally a ‘flying’ visit, she emphasised to Jake in her text. She would spend two days in Dublin where she would attend her grandmother’s funeral and view the apartment she hoped to buy.
They met in the Clarion Hotel beside Dublin Airport for an hour before she flew back to New York. She was waiting for him when he arrived, still dressed in funeral black, the brim of a hat low over her eyes. Darina had outlived her contemporaries and her funeral had been a quiet ceremony, Karin told him when he expressed his condolences. She was pleased with the apartment and had decided to buy it. He knew the location. One of the flashy Celtic Tiger developments built on the once derelict docklands overlooking the Liffey.
‘How’s the Shard reunion coming along?’ she asked after he had viewed photos of the apartment on her mobile.
‘We’ve had to postpone,’ he admitted.
Her eyes narrowed with disappointment when he explained that Reedy had been offered a contract with a band
They did not bother removing their clothes. No foreplay to delay the inevitable clash of pleasure. No awkwardness as they unzipped, unhooked, unbuttoned, undid each other’s resolve to pretend that this was anything other than a familiar ritual. She was moist and ready, sweet and juicy as the apple she had so temptingly held before him. Her desire matched his own, their cries buried in each other’s shoulders as they shuddered into relief. When she moaned he was unsure if the muffled sound was carried on pleasure or pain.
The sofa was uncomfortable, broken springs pressing into their hips, legs cramping as they untangled themselves, the aftertaste of sex on their lips. A slight embarrassment as she fastened her bra, her face averted from him.
In bed, she fell into an exhausted sleep. He tried to imagine waking up beside a different face, a different form — Karin Moylan sauntered into view – but the leap was too great for his imagination. Nadine turned, still sleeping, and slid her arm across his hip. A practiced gesture, as established as his regular breathing when he finally drifted asleep. Her words were out there now, asteroids in space, already spinning off in directions neither of them could foresee.
Chapter 13
T hree weeks had passed since that night. Sometimes, in the throes of work, Jake wondered if he had imagined their entire conversation. Freedom. The word had dangerous connotations and Nadine had teased them out in front of him. Was she crazy? Was he crazy not to listen to her? She had not mentioned their discussion since, nor had he, but ignoring something did not mean it would go away. She was waiting for him to make up his mind. When they were together he was aware of her every movement, each change of expression, the undercurrent of tension behind her words. Had he ever known what went on beneath that storm of red hair?
Small but significant changes were taking place between them. They had not made love since that night. The desire that flamed so swiftly had burned itself out and, now, they lay chastely apart, apologising, almost embarrassed, if they made contact. They avoided intimate actions like walking naked from the shower or dressing in front of each other. They tapped on their office doors before entering and no longer checked each other’s work diaries, something they used to do without a second thought. And the texts he had intended on deleting remained on his phone. New ones arrived from Karin but they no longer lifted his spirits or sank him into a reverie. He was focused on only one thing. The decision he must make. He had the unsettling sensation that a tamed animal might feel when faced with the challenge of an open cage door.
Then Darina Moylan died. Five years in the grip of Alzheimer’s, Darina passed gently away and Karin flew home from for her grandmother’s funeral. It was literally a ‘flying’ visit, she emphasised to Jake in her text. She would spend two days in Dublin where she would attend her grandmother’s funeral and view the apartment she hoped to buy.
They met in the Clarion Hotel beside Dublin Airport for an hour before she flew back to New York. She was waiting for him when he arrived, still dressed in funeral black, the brim of a hat low over her eyes. Darina had outlived her contemporaries and her funeral had been a quiet ceremony, Karin told him when he expressed his condolences. She was pleased with the apartment and had decided to buy it. He knew the location. One of the flashy Celtic Tiger developments built on the once derelict docklands overlooking the Liffey.
‘How’s the Shard reunion coming along?’ she asked after he had viewed photos of the apartment on her mobile.
‘We’ve had to postpone,’ he admitted.
Her eyes narrowed with disappointment when he explained that Reedy had been offered a contract with a band
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