The One I Love by Anna McPartlin

of staying away and, even though the sparkle in Tom’s eye had been replaced with a terrible sadness, God help poor Jeanette, she fell deeper in love.
    She waited for Tom to emerge from the bathroom, and when he did and he was clean and his house was clean and there was real food cooking in his oven and she was talking about the job interview she’d just had and looking for some music, he felt normal and calm and it was nice, if only for a while. When he’d sobered up she poured some wine and they sat together and ate. When they’d polished off the bottle and were halfway through the second, and after she’d served a dessert that neither of them ate, she gazed at him across the table and slowly, hesitantly, took his hand in hers. “What more can I do?” she asked. While retaining his hand, she walked around the table and sat on a chair at his side. Now he was facing her, his hand still in hers, and her other hand was sliding up his thigh. His pulse raced, and her heart was racing too, as she asked him again, “What can I do?” and he was staring into her face and eyes and the kitchen fell away as he reached for the back of her head and pulled her into him and they kissed.
    The next night in the pub she’d re-enacted it for her pals Lily and Davey.
    “Jesus, that’s like in a film,” Lily said.
    “Exactly like in a film,” said Jeanette. And she believed herself.
    Davey was less impressed. “You’re playing with fire.” But he was ignored.
    “What happened then?” asked Lily.
    Tom had pulled Jeanette onto the floor and they’d kissed again and her pants were off before she could say, “Take my pants off,” and his were around his ankles and he was on top of her and inside her and their tops were still on and it was over quickly, which was a good thing because the tiles were freezing. When he was done she could see his regret and shame so she acted fast – before he could ask her to leave and file their encounter under “mistake”. They both pulled up their pants. She took two cigarettes out of her bag and lit both of them. She asked him to sit next to her on the floor. He complied out of a combination of guilt and a genuine desire for a cigarette, despite having been off them for five years.
    When he was sitting and puffing, she straddled him. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said.
    “I doubt it.”
    “You’re thinking, Jeanette is a nice girl and I’m grateful for the tumble, which was badly needed, but how the hell do I get her out of here without making her cry?”
    He shook his head, and she smiled. “Something like that,” he admitted.
    “I like you,” she said.
    “I’m a mess.”
    “I know. I’m not blind.”
    “I’m married.”
    “She’s not here.”
    “Please go home,” he said, and she knew she’d spoken out of turn.
    “Okay.” She nodded. “I’m sorry.” And she was sorry. She was sorry he was so sad and she was sorry for poor Alexandra and she was sorry for herself because although she was desperate for him to love her she knew he never would. I had to try , she thought, as she closed the door behind her.
    “Jesus, you could have waited,” Davey said the next night.
    “He’s right,” Lily agreed.
    Jeanette knew she’d blown it so a phone call from Tom came as a shock. He rang her from his car on the way back from Jane’s.
    “Tom?”
    “Good news,” he said. “I have a lead on Alexandra. It’s not much but it’s something.”
    “Oh, that’s great,” she said, and brightened. “I hope it works out.” She meant it.
    “Look, I wanted to apologize for that night,” he said. “I should never have done that.”
    Jeanette thought about how kind he was to call. After all, she had preyed on him – he was vulnerable, lost and drunk and she’d seduced him. God, I love you . “It wasn’t you, it was me,” she said, “and I appreciate you apologizing but you’ve nothing to apologize for.”
    “I wasn’t that drunk.”
    Jeanette’s heart leaped