Chapter Text
The door lock was released with an audible click, signalling to Kate that she was free to push through into the room. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, she turned the knob and stepped in.
She saw Gregory, still dressed in his pyjamas—a loose t-shirt and gym shorts—standing before his canvas overnight bag gaping open on the bed. Looking frazzled, he moved to the dresser and then the floor of the closet to grab random crumbled-up articles of clothing and shove them hard into the bag.
“I didn’t do it to hurt you,” Kate said softly, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, unable to help but think about the way she likely looked right then, hair a mess from the lake, her dress zipper sagging open at the back.
Taking a balled-up pair of socks from the bed, Gregory shoved them deep into his bag and pursed his lips. “You can find another ride back to London.”
Stalking to the bathroom, he grabbed his toothbrush and shaving kit and stuffed them into his little toiletry bag.
“Gregory,” Kate pleaded, walking to the door and brushing her hair behind her ear. She could see herself in the vanity mirror and winced at the eyeliner stain on her lower lids and the matting of her air-dried hair. “I’m so sorry.”
Laughing, Greg shook his head and zipped up the little pouch. Pushing past Kate, he jammed it into his bag. “With my brother!” he shouted angrily, spinning to face her, his face crumpling. “He’s like a father to me! You knew that!”
Turning away from her once more, he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking until he quieted.
Kate knew there was nothing she could say or do to make this right, so she stood there quietly, willing him to say whatever he needed to. She could take it.
Looking up, she widened her eyes when Anthony appeared in the doorway. He had buttoned up his shirt and was looking at Greg as he cried, Anthony’s hands deep in his pockets, his face crestfallen.
“Let me drive you back to London, Greg,” Anthony said quietly, his brows low as he focused on his brother. “You shouldn’t be driving right now.”
After zipping up his bag angrily, Gregory draped the strap over his shoulder. “You are the last person I want to see today,” he said, addressing Anthony, his voice tinged with a quiet rage. “Kate’ll fuck anyone that’ll have her—have fun with that!”
Bag in hand, Gregory bowled into Anthony with his shoulder, shoving him back into the hallway, before pounding down the stairs and out the front door. Anthony gave chase as Kate sank onto the bed, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself. She supposed she’d deserved that.
She didn’t lift her head until she heard footsteps in the hall again and looking up, she saw Anthony standing in the doorway. “I’ll drive you home,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes, “best we leave before everyone else wakes up.”
Thankful that his wife hadn't been stirred awake by Gregory’s angry words, Anthony crept into their room to take a quick shower and get dressed for the day. Afterwards, as his hair still dripped from his shower, Anthony stood at the edge of the bed as she slept, thinking about how their lives had changed so drastically in a single weekend.
Their marriage was over, regardless of what happened with Kate and whatever the future held for them. Their union had been an unhappy one and it was finally time to end it. Anthony had had the opportunity to reflect on the impact it had on their children and his family, and it wasn’t something he was proud of.
Sighing, he gently closed the bedroom door behind him and stopped to check his watch. It wasn’t even half-six yet and it made him feel a little insane to think that just thirty minutes ago he’d been feeling lighter than he had in years as he stepped over the threshold with Kate.
But then he’d broken his brother’s heart—shattered it, even. He had thought that Gregory finding out had been inevitable, these types of things always came to the surface, but he had hoped they would have more time. Walking down the hall, he paused for a second behind Gregory’s bedroom door and listened to the sound of the shower spray and bathroom fan.
Perhaps this was for the best, Anthony thought as he made his way to the kitchen and started the coffee maker. It would be tough, but he could repair his relationship with Gregory. At least, so he hoped.
When it came to Kate, however, he had no idea what the future held. Greg’s angry words about her echoed in his mind, but he shook them away, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“Anthony,” he heard his mother’s voice call from behind him, her words laced with disappointment but not surprise. Spinning around to face her, he took in her displeased frown and how she crossed her arms tightly over her terry cloth bathrobe.
She must have heard.
Sighing, Anthony turned back to the coffee maker and began tapping the granite countertop, willing the drip to speed up. He thought he and Kate would need the caffeine for the drive back up to London.
“You have children, Anthony, and a wife, what were you thinking?” she asked as he heard the scrape of a stool, he assumed she sat on one of the barstools by the kitchen counter.
Not knowing what to say to her, Anthony shook his head and pulled two travel mugs from the cabinet. Then it hit him.
“I know it was dumb and selfish,” he said, the sound of defeat in his voice surprising him, “but when I was with her I finally felt happy.”
His own mother couldn’t see that but it wasn’t a surprise because he knew understanding was beyond her abilities when it came to him. Shaking his head, he filled both of the mugs and replaced the lids, wishing Kate would hurry up.
Hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, Anthony shifted gears, easily picking up speed as they hurtled down the old tree-lined lane that led away from his family’s country house. His eyes drifted to where Kate held her mug of coffee between her thighs, noting that she hadn’t yet taken a sip.
She had worn a baggy t-shirt that hung off of one shoulder and a pair of bike shorts, opting to pull her wet hair into a high bun on her head. Anthony’s hands had itched when he’d first seen her come down the stairs, wishing he could pull that hair tie from her long locks to see how it would tumble wet over her shoulders.
As they’d gotten situated in the car, Anthony had shot off a few texts to his wife, asking her to take care of camp pick-up that afternoon, saying he’d see her at home that evening. He’d offered a weak explanation, saying that Gregory had had to return to London early and he’d offered to drive Kate back before checking in at the practice.
It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it had felt like one. Which struck Anthony as odd, considering the fact that he’d been unfaithful to his wife multiple times at that point and didn’t feel a whit of guilt over it.
Eyes darting to Kate’s legs again, he felt his cheeks burn at the realisation that they hadn’t used protection. The thought shamed him—he’d never been so hasty with sexual partners before his marriage and she’d deserved better than that. Gregory’s angry parting words rang through his head again and his heart raced at the implication.
“I-I’m sorry,” he said, turning to look at her for a moment before facing the road. “We didn’t use protection. It was careless of me.”
Anthony could feel Kate’s eyes on him for a moment before she responded. “We should be okay,” she said, her voice so quiet and defeated that it shamed him, “I’m on the pill and I’ve never had unprotected sex.”
When Anthony turned to look at her again, she was gazing out the window at the rolling countryside.
“The first time was with you,” she said without looking at him. Something about the admission thrilled him, a small crack in the guilt and shame that had settled on him hard like marble.
“Still, I shouldn’t have been so reckless,” he added, squeezing the wheel tight and letting a deep breath out through pursed lips.
“I shouldn’t have, either. It takes two,” Kate cut back, her fingers fiddling with the cap of her coffee cup, sliding it open and closed several times.
After that, the silence stretched on for most of the drive back. Anthony wanted to tell her that he still liked her, that he didn’t want it to feel like this now, so defeated and shameful. Because he did not regret what they had done and he hoped she didn’t, either.
It did not help that some sort of discomfort filled the air between them since they had seen Gregory that morning. Whatever they had created together had fallen to pieces at their feet and Anthony was unsure how they could get back to that. He was still unable to define whatever it had been between them.
He tried to ask her to give him her number half a dozen times, but every time he opened his mouth to speak, he bit back the words. He didn’t even know if she wanted this to continue, he hoped she did, and yet he was too afraid to voice the words.
When they arrived in Kate’s neighbourhood, she’d directed him to her flat, not providing him with a house or flat number. Not wanting to part like this, Anthony parked quickly and jumped out of his car, going to the trunk to grab her bag and motioning toward the front steps.
Together they walked up to the front door and Anthony felt some relief when she held it open for him.
When they walked into her flat he breathed deep because it smelled like her and the thought brought him a feeling of dizzying comfort. It wasn’t even a conscious decision when he dropped her bag and pulled her close, cradling her jaw with his hands before leaning forward to kiss her.
Words had failed him but Anthony realised that all he had to do was let his body speak. When Kate kissed him back he was finally able to taste just a hint of what they had shared less than twelve hours before.
As she wrapped her arms tightly around him, Anthony reached up and finally pulled that hair tie out, happy to run his hands through her damp hair as it spilt in loose unruly curls around her shoulders.
Pulling back, Kate reached for his hand and led him into her bedroom. Her lone bedroom window faced west and the morning sun was higher in the sky, still filtering golden rays through gauzy curtains, alighting dust motes as they drifted lazily in the air. She didn’t speak as she reached to drag Anthony’s shirt over his head and then held his eyes as she pulled hers off, the warm sunlight painting her bare breasts in shades of gold.
Drawn to her lips again, Anthony pulled her into another soft kiss, depositing several across her mouth, then along the supple skin of her jaw, to the shell of her ear, and then down to her throat. From there he could smell her scent so clearly, the soap from her shower, something strong and floral from her hair, and then below that, a scent light and powdery, making his mouth water with a desire to taste every inch of her skin.
“Do you have to go back?” Kate whispered, her fingers buried in his hair, her nails grazing over his scalp.
It took Anthony a moment to realise what she was talking about, to remember anything that existed outside of her orbit. Then it came back, his family, the house in Kent, and his brother’s broken heart. Pulling away, he looked Kate in the eye, noticing how the sunlight turned her irises from a dark mysterious brown to a light amber in the sunlight.
“I have some time, until the afternoon,” he said quietly, still very much under her spell, fully aware that he had no idea what time it currently was.
“Good,” she responded just as softly before leaning forward to capture his lips once more and deposit a gentle row of pecks along his jaw.
Feeling half drunk, Anthony kicked his shoes off and realised Kate’s feet were bare, not remembering when she’d removed her sandals. As she unbuckled his belt and pulled his trousers down, it occurred to Anthony that this was very likely a farewell. From the more logical part of his mind, an area that felt like a distant echo, he thought it was fitting to feel this way on such a fraught day.
Once they were both naked, Anthony pulled Kate to her bed, laying on top of her on the strewn bedding, his knees landing on cool cotton sheets, and under his arms, he felt a blanket of the softest fleece. The mixture of sensations of the bed and the press of Kate’s warm body was further drugging as he fell to her mouth once more.
Anthony thought his hands felt impossibly rough against her soft skin as he dragged his palm up her arm and then over to her breast. As he made contact with her peaked nipple, she whimpered below him, and he thought that whatever spell had overtaken him had captured Kate as well. Whatever this was, they were in it together.
“It’s never like this,” Anthony said under his breath before pressing his mouth to the racing pulse in her throat. As if in agreement, Kate dragged her nails down the nape of his neck, through the short hairs there, and then up again, the scraping sensation sending a volley of chills down his body.
“No,” Kate whispered, her breath hot as her lips grazed his temple.
Pulling back, Anthony stared into her eyes as his hand journeyed farther down her body, over her quivering abdomen, down to the damp and downy riot of curls and then to the warm slit between her legs. He angled his head as he examined her expression, his mouth dropping open as one finger parted her there.
Kate’s eyes softened as she looked at him, her mouth opening a bit as she whimpered and spread her legs further for him. In response, Anthony pressed two fingers hard along her clit and ran them down and up, slowing his pace slightly to see if he could draw out the way she moaned for him.
Her strong grip on his hand spurred him on, his muscles flexing below her biting fingers as he slowly increased the pressure before pushing both fingers inside of her.
“Anthony,” Kate cried, arching up into him.
No one had ever reacted to him like that before. It had him trembling above her, wondering how something so simple could be so arousing. An all-encompassing need overtook him, his cock hard and begging as he pressed into her, past his knuckles and up to his palm.
“Do you want me?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.
“Mmm,” she cried, arching her hips to increase the pressure. Anthony focused his attention on where his hand was pressing into her, the heel of his palm and his thumb grinding into her clit.
“I could leave you like this,” he whispered, recapturing her gaze, marvelling at how her face had softened from pleasure, which was in sharp juxtaposition to how her muscles tensed against him. “Wanting me.”
“You would have to come back,” she hissed, writhing against him, moving her hips against his now stiff hand and arm. “To finish me off.”
Growling, Anthony didn’t think he could move from that bed until he’d had her again. In truth, he was unsure if he could ever leave, let alone then or even after they’d both climaxed.
“Alright,” he said on exhale, pulling his hand away reluctantly and positioning himself on top of her. His heart raced as his chest lowered onto hers, one arm pressing into the mattress to take some of his weight.
Burying his face in the join of her neck and shoulder, Anthony delved with his nose into the softness of her hair as he positioned his cock at her entrance. Finally, he pulled back to look at her as he pushed forward.
Kate whimpered between closed lips as she arched her back up into him, her hard nipples surging into his chest with exquisite pressure. As his forehead rested on hers, Anthony sank his hips farther, feeling his cock slowly part her, the warm wet pressure of her cunt accepting him as he pressed in beyond her entrance.
“We fit perfectly together,” Kate whispered, her nails scraping along his shoulders, down to his biceps, before fingertips dug into skin and muscle.
A thousand words sped through Anthony’s brain at that moment, surprising him as he was seated fully inside of her. Dissertations on the way she felt surrounding him, how she was made for him, how he wanted to possess her body and soul, the soliloquies of his heart, words he would have never dared utter aloud, they all screamed from his very soul. But he held his lips closed, none of them sounding quite right.
“Kate,” he whispered, hoping he had suffused the very word with his regard and affection, at the honour of being the one she accepted in her arms and in her body. “Kate, Kate, Kate,” he added, the words quivering as they left his lips.
“Hush,” she smoothed, running her hands through his hair, over his shoulders, his arse, his arms, everywhere. She was simply everywhere.
Face buried in her hair once more, her scent surrounding him, he began to thrust in and out, lights already dancing in his vision from the power of her. Kate met him stroke for stroke, her hips rising and falling with his every moment, easily matching his pace.
“Look at me,” she whispered, petting his hair and trying to push his head back.
Forcing himself to drag his eyes open, still thrusting in and out, Anthony rose on one elbow and caught her gaze.
Her thumb grazed his cheek, right under his eye, her brown irises showing impossible depths around her blown wide pupils. Anthony thought there were things he had to say but he couldn’t find them, so lost in her.
As he reached his peak he wondered if she could read his mind, her lips dancing open and closed as if she was also trying to find the right words for that moment.
Then her eyebrows bunched up and her lips turned down and he could feel her start to tighten around him. Reaching down, Anthony pulled her leg up, hooked her knee with his elbow, opening her wider for him and moaned as he pounded down into her with his hips.
When Kate cried out, her cunt starting to clamp around him, he knew he was truly lost. He groaned against her, increasing his pace, desperate to catch up to her, his climax so close. As her orgasm peaked, she dug her nails hard into his shoulders and pulled Anthony along in her swell.
Body convulsing, he thrust three more hard strokes, holding inside of her longer each time until he could feel himself spending within. When the moment came, his entire body flexed, his toes knotting into fists, his hips pressing down hard against her until the last tremors of his orgasm faded.
Trembling now, he fell to her body, unable to stop his full weight from pressing into her.
“I have you,” Kate whispered as he fought for air, unsure if he had the strength to move. “Shhh, I have you.”
The way her soft voice soothed him and her gentle hands drifted over his skin was enough to lull him into an immediate and dreamless sleep.
When Anthony finally came to, he had no idea how much time had passed, though Kate’s hands were still drifting feather-light along his back.
“There you are,” she said, her voice happy and amused.
The heavy thing that had settled over them earlier in the day was gone, the air between them was lighter, even cooler and fresher, Anthony thought bemusedly.
Groaning, he rolled off of Kate, hissing when his spent cock finally pulled from her body. Flopping to his back beside her caused the bed to shake under them, slamming her headboard into the wall, from which Anthony was unable to suppress a deep laugh.
Chuckling with him, Kate rolled to her side, her eyes grazing along his face and bare chest before her hand came to rest above his still-racing heart. Laying naked next to her in bed, bed askew, the golden sunlight still filtering through the window, felt so right it settled Anthony's heart.
“I thought you didn’t want…” she began, biting her lip as she stopped herself, her eyes focusing on nothing. Then she shook her head and met his gaze. “I thought after this morning you wouldn’t want this.”
Sighing, Anthony reached up to brush a few unruly curls from her face and to cup her cheek. Her skin felt so impossibly soft under the pad of his thumb. “I’m drawn to you,” he admitted, his voice thick.
“The feeling is mutual,” Kate whispered in response.
Though he did not want it to, the needs of his loved ones started to bubble up around him, making it difficult to lie there. “I think I need to take some time, though,” he added, his own heart sinking at the thought. “To figure things out. With my family.”
Letting her eyes slide closed, Kate nodded, and he could feel her jaw tightening against his palm. Anthony allowed his hand to fall to the sheets.
Feeling a little disarmed laying naked next to her, Anthony reached behind him and grabbed that fluffy soft blanket, draping it around them. “I think I have to end my marriage.”
The words hung heavy between them. It was a lot to consider. He and Kate had known each other for less than five days. It seemed almost insane—Anthony felt half mad at the realisation. He also did not realise the pressure it might put on her until he’d admitted it out loud.
Eyes open and serious now, Kate grabbed his hand and shook her head at him. “I don’t expect anything from you, Anthony,” she said, squeezing his fingers between hers. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s been a long time coming,” he whispered, shifting to his side so his eyes were level with hers. “We’ve been unhappy for years. You made me realise that it was time. Even if nothing else happens between you and me, my marriage is over.”
Kate fell back to the bed, her gaze focused on the ceiling effectively severing the connection of their bodies.
Unsure of the time, Anthony thought perhaps it was in fact the perfect time to return to the reality of his life. There would be difficult conversations ahead—with his wife, his children, with Gregory… Rising from the bed, he quickly dressed as Kate watched him from under the fluffy blanket.
“Can I have your phone?” she asked, sitting up and holding the edge of it over her breasts.
Digging the device from his pocket, Anthony unlocked it and handed it to her. With a practised hand, she typed her number into it, adding her name as well, before handing it back. Looking down at her newly added contact info, he noticed she’d added a black emoji dot next to her name.
“For when you’re ready,” she added, her eyes part steely, part soft and sad.
It felt like an ending all of a sudden as Anthony walked toward her bedroom door but before stepping over the threshold, he turned back to her.
“I don’t want you to feel beholden to me,” he said, his hands closing into fists at his sides. “I can’t see the future. I have no expectations of you, Kate. You don’t need to wait for me.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line as he turned and walked away, too afraid to linger on the hurt look in her eyes, not wanting to think about the idea of Kate moving on from him.
Back in his car, Anthony pressed his forehead against the leather steering wheel and tried to draw in several deep breaths, to calm the way his blood pounded against his temples. He wanted to tear that building door off the hinges and sprint back up the steps, to dive back into her bed.
Being back in London, it was like being brought back to reality. Kent had felt like a fantasy land, where the rules had not mattered. He couldn’t continue like this—breaking the vows he’d made upon the altar. It was not fair to his wife, nor Kate.
Falling back against the driver's seat, he placed a hand over his heart and allowed his eyes to drift closed. When he opened them once more, his vision was blurry as he tried to read the digital clock on the centre console.
It was only midday and his kids wouldn’t be home yet. Reluctantly, he started his car and connected the Bluetooth so he could make a call. Pulling up Gregory’s number, he sat in traffic as he listened to it ring and then switch to voicemail.
“Hey, I know you don’t want to hear from me, but please let me know that you made it home safe,” he said before hanging up. He shot off a quick text with the same message, just to be safe.
A few minutes later a text arrived, read out by the onboard AI in a proper English lady’s voice, ‘Text from mum: Gregory is staying at number five and we have all made it home safely.’
Feeling a little dizzy, Anthony circled the next block and made his way toward his mum’s house.
The mid-day sun did not feel welcoming as Anthony skipped up his mother’s front steps, but he was thankful that the house was quiet as he walked inside. From the entryway he could see Hyacinth eating lunch in the dining room between two other place settings, one clean and untouched, the other with a half-eaten sandwich upon it.
“Hy,” Anthony said as he approached with an apprehensive smile, hoping at least she was happy to see him.
Her eyes went wide when she noticed him, a sandwich suspended midway to her mouth. Then she set it down and met his eyes with a steely gaze.
Heart sinking, Anthony locked his hands behind his back and fiddled with his father’s old signet ring on his pinky. “You heard.”
“Gregory doesn’t want to see you,” was all she said before standing, stalking out of the room, and stomping up the stairs.
“Hyacinth,” Anthony said to her retreating back as his eyes drifted closed in shame, his heart breaking a little more for the distance.
“It may be best if we all take the day, Anthony,” his mother said softly. As Anthony opened his eyes, he noticed her standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
Swallowing, he blinked his eyes at her as he shook his head. It was a mess of his own making and he thought he very much deserved this animosity from his family.
“Gregory will be staying here,” his mother said from behind him as he made his way back to the front door. “If you need your flat in the square after all is said and done.”
Though Anthony originally had no intention of dropping in at his family practice that day, it was where he ended up after leaving his mother’s. His wife and kids would not be home for another few hours, and thinking that none of his siblings would wish to see him, he found his patient charts to be an appropriate distraction.
He ran the practice with his wife. It would be one of the messier parts of their divorce. Their prenuptial agreement would protect his family’s properties, but Anthony thought it likely she’d try to take his Mayfair flat. Hell, he rather thought he’d happily give it to her if she were willing to part with him amicably and not draw this out in the courts.
Watching the clock closely, he almost leapt from his chair when he finally decided it was time to go and see his children. Lord, he thought, he’d missed them dearly.
Pulling up in front of his family’s old brick house, lovingly called Bridgerton House for the last two hundred years, Anthony stepped from the car and felt a thrill when he saw his wife’s SUV in the driveway. Two kids' bicycles were still strapped to a rack at the back, the signal that his children were home from camp, and he distracted himself by taking them down before going inside.
Stepping through the front door, his heart raced, unaware of what his wife had heard after the events of that morning. He hoped he could be the one to break the news to her, but knowing his family, if it had already spread amongst his siblings, she was likely already aware.
Stepping over two overloaded duffel bags, one-half open spilling old dirty socks and camp t-shirts in the front entrance, Anthony made his way for the central staircase and the family’s drawing room.
He decided he’d volunteer to do the laundry later before their live-in maid returned in the morning, maybe it would give him a moment of peace once the kids went to bed. His wife always scoffed at him for doing things like that, when they paid someone very well for the job, but Anthony reminded himself that he wouldn’t have to worry about her judgemental remarks for much longer.
Hearing a little girl’s laugh sent a sharp thrill straight through Anthony’s chest, making him skip every other step on the way upstairs. When he reached the drawing room, Charlotte was on a sofa hugging her little favourite rag doll, Edmund on the other side of the room holding an iPad and swiping through pictures for his mother. He was ten now and had received the tablet for his tenth birthday—likely glad to have it back after being separated from it while at camp.
“That was when Charlotte fell in the lake,” he said, laughing, reaching up to scratch his head. Anthony wondered when the last time his son had showered, seeing visible streaks of dirt on the boy’s face.
“I did not fall in!” his little girl retorted, indignant, waving her doll in the air. “Missy Kensington pushed me off of the dock.”
“That’s not very nice,” Anthony said, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes already burning at the sight of his kids.
“Papa!” Charlotte all but screamed, a spry five-year-old, vaulting herself from the couch and into his arms. Her hair was a matted mess of dark chestnut curls, and Anthony buried one hand in her little head of hair, the sharp scent of lake water, soil, and sunscreen hitting his nose all at once.
Lowering himself to his knees, he hauled Edmund against him, who had come to stand at his side. “I wanted to show you the canoes today but you didn’t come to pick us up,” Edmund said, his face buried in his father’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Neddy,” Anthony said, finally raising his face to look at his wife across the room. Her eyes were sad and tired, and he sighed, acutely aware of the conversation that awaited them.
“These two need to get in the bath,” the kids' mum said, standing from the sofa and approaching the three of them.
Edmund smelled sharply like little boy, and not in a good way. Smiling, Anthony stood, maintaining his hold on Charlotte as her legs wrapped around his hips.
“We do not ,” Edmund said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his camp t-shirt as he leaned into Anthony’s legs.
“I could smell you both when I walked in the room,” Anthony teased, ruffling his hair, not surprised when he pulled his hand away that he had visible dirt on his palm. “And jumping in the lake at camp does not count as bathing.”
“Edmund, shower, now,” his mother ordered sternly, pointing toward the door.
“Fine,” their son said, crossing his arms and stalking out of the room.
“Sarah is upstairs, she can take Charlotte to her bath,” she added once Edmund was out of the room. “Then we can talk.”
Sarah was the children’s nanny and had been with the family since Charlotte was born. Hiring a nanny had felt like defeat in Anthony’s eyes, though he knew they had needed her help. He wondered if they’d keep her on once everything was said and done.
Nodding at his wife, Anthony set Charlotte down reluctantly. He would have liked to give her her bath that day, having missed his kids so severely.
“Go upstairs and tell Miss Sarah it’s bath time, bunny,” he told her gently, pushing her toward the door.
“Okay, papa,” she said, giving him a sweet smile, and skipping out the door.
Turning to his wife, he fell into a sofa before her, biting his tongue until the sounds of Charlotte’s footsteps faded in the distance. When his wife sat on the sofa opposite him, she looked almost vulnerable and confused, and the realisation shook him. He thought she’d approach this with hardness and resentment, as with many other things in their marriage.
“I heard about what happened,” she said quietly, pressing her hands into the cushions on either side of her, gently moving Edmund’s iPad away so it wouldn’t fall to the floor. “With Gregory’s girlfriend.”
The confirmation that she knew sent a sharp stiletto of shame through Anthony’s gut—that guilt for what he had done while his wife was near finally settling over him. “It was careless and I’m sorry.”
“You never looked at me like that,” she said, sighing and falling back into the cushions. “I saw you at dinner last night, your eyes kept drifting over to her. Your face would soften. I thought it was just a crush.”
Anthony could still almost feel the way Kate’s soft skin had felt under his palms that morning when he’d held her. Whatever it was between them, it was the furthest thing from a crush.
“I think we should get a divorce,” he said, though the inelegance of the words felt harsh to his ears. “I won’t lie and say what happened this past weekend isn’t related, but I think we both know we’ve been dancing around this issue since Charlotte was born.”
If they could have an amicable divorce, thanks to recent changes to divorce law, their marriage could be officially over in less than two months. The thought of freedom from this union was dizzying, but Anthony refused to look toward the future yet, for fear of the disappointment he might find along the way.
“You’re the one that argued against separating after everything that happened with Bert,” his wife remarked, folding her arms across her chest as her eyes skittered across the room.
Bertram Fife was the man she had run to several weeks after Charlotte’s birth. He had taken her willingly into his bed, easily severing the close friendship he had shared with Anthony since their days at Oxford.
“Did you love him?” Anthony asked, his brow wrinkling as he looked at her, her eyes growing glassy. He’d asked the same question before, and already knew the answer, but he felt he had to raise the issue again.
“No,” she said softly, her eyes fixed on the fireplace at the end of the room, blinking rapidly.
“Why did you…” he began but trailed off as he sighed, not wanting to get into that same old argument. And to be fair, he’d had his own indiscretions in the past ten years, never going as far as intercourse, but there had been fervent secret kisses, groping, and other acts. He was not infallible and could not offer an explanation for those trysts, other than the fact that they made him feel a way his wife never had.
“Did you know, when we first got together I thought you loved me?” she asked, finally turning back to look at him. “When we slept together that first time and you proposed immediately after. I thought it was love,” she explained with a sad laugh.
She had been his perfect match on paper. Scrubbing his hands down his face, Anthony let out a weary sigh. It had been wrong since the beginning, wishing to wed for things instead of feelings, for the status, the connections, the shared wealth, and the fact that if she died his world wouldn’t turn black as his mother’s had.
“And don’t worry, I realised it wasn’t love well before the wedding,” she added, with a sardonic laugh, unwilling to look at him. “I walked into this with my eyes wide open.”
“Does this mean you wish to stay married?” Anthony asked, his heart dropping. He wouldn’t fight her over this in court. He could accept it and they could go back to therapy. He’d end whatever he had with Kate. It wouldn’t be sustainable, to continue the affair, to keep hurting his family in that way. It did not help that that was the last thing he wanted, the reality of this marriage continuing for another moment sitting hard like a brick in his stomach. The thought of never seeing Kate again…
“No,” she whispered, crossing her arms, her voice quivering now from suppressed tears, “I see the effect it’s had on our children.”
Sniffling now, she wiped harshly at her eyes. “That's why I went to Bert…” she continued, her face turned away from him to hide her weeping, though Anthony thought it a futile effort. “I thought it could sever this, even if you claimed adultery in court… but you didn’t really care about the affair, the sex. I think that was the most painful part.”
“I’m sorry,” Anthony choked out, feeling shame and relief bundled into a tight ball, making his armpits and temples sweat, his feet suddenly feeling too big in his shoes. “For all of this.”
“You gave me Charlotte and Edmund. I can’t hate you for that,” she responded, wiping a tear from her cheek and finally looking at him. “And in a way, finding out about you and the girl was a relief. I knew you’d finally give this up, give us up.”
Walking up to the nursery, Anthony watched from the door as Sarah dried Charlotte’s hair with a big fluffy towel, his daughter sitting there, cosy in a fluffy green robe that made her look like a little frog.
“I can take over,” he said quietly, stepping into the room. Sarah stood and smiled at him, handing him a little hairbrush before leaving the room. “Can you check on Edmund? Make sure he isn’t playing video games?” he asked as she left the room, nodding at him on her way out the door.
“Hi bunny,” Anthony said, kneeling before Charlotte’s little bed with the brush in hand. “Did you have fun at camp?” he asked, as he started to brush through her damp curls, gently untangling knots as he went.
“I really liked swimming in the lake,” she responded, breathless with excitement. “Can we go to the lake at Aubrey Hall next time? Can you throw me off the dock?”
Laughing, Anthony gathered her hair off her shoulders and motioned for her to stand, taking the robe off and reaching for the pyjamas the nanny had set out. “You didn’t like it the last time I threw you off the dock.”
“I know,” she said, bending over to pull her underwear up, “but I’m a big girl now.”
After she struggled to pull her tight pyjama top on, Anthony pulled her into his arms, kissing the damp top of her head and smelling the scent of strawberry baby shampoo. “You are a big girl,” he said quietly, kissing the crown of her head, “but please don’t grow up too quickly.”
Giggling, Charlotte pulled away and placed her hands on his cheeks. “I can’t help it, papa.”
“I love you, Charlotte,” Anthony said, smiling, having desperately missed her rosy red cheeks and how she’d looked at the world.
“Love you, too, papa,” she said absentmindedly as she bent over to pull her pyjama bottoms on.
After eating with the kids, Anthony handled Charlotte’s bedtime, reading three extra story books at her request. Afterwards, he sat with Edmund in his bed as they read out loud from a Percy Jackson novel, Anthony burning with pride that his son had developed such a deep love of reading.
Leaving Edmund with a kiss on his head, his book, a flashlight, and a reminder that he could only read one more chapter before bed, Anthony closed his bedroom door quietly behind him.
Joining his wife in the kitchen, Anthony was happy to accept the glass of red wine that she offered. “Lord, I missed them,” he said quietly before taking a sip.
“Me too,” she responded, smiling up at him sadly. “I’ve done up the guest room for you,” she added, motioning toward the French doors that led to their back deck.
Nodding, Anthony followed her out. “We can tell them in the morning,” he said, falling into a wooden deck chair next to her.
“I think they’ll be alright, a lot of their friends have separated parents,” she responded, setting a wine bottle on a low table between them.
“I hope so,” he said, thinking that their kids were the important part of this, more than the broken marriage or the affair with Kate. “I’ll move into my flat across the square tomorrow. Give you some space.”
“Anthony, this is your family’s house,” she responded, setting her glass down with a thunk. “It’s in our prenup.”
“I know,” he said with a sigh, looking out across the dark garden behind their home, the sound of crickets busily singing, their songs echoing across the evening air. “But it’s the least I can do until you can find something else.”
Turning toward her, the chair creaked under Anthony before he spoke again. “Stephanie, you’re my children’s mother, I will always love you for that. I’ll make sure you’re well provided for.”
“I know you will,” she whispered before finishing her first glass.
Facing the empty bunk bed he’d just assembled in his flat guest bedroom, Anthony took a long slow draw of his beer. Eyeing the bare mattresses, he realised he’d need to go buy bedding the next day, feeling a little shame for not remembering to do that already.
His wife would have remembered—soon-to-be ex-wife he reminded himself. He and his wife had spoken to the kids the morning after they’d arrived home and Anthony had gone directly to his barrister to get the paperwork rolling. As soon as they’d made the decision, he knew it would be difficult to wait. It would be somewhere around six weeks until everything was finalised. Then they would both sign one piece of paper and it would be done.
Thankfully, Stephanie had agreed to an amicable divorce and custody agreement with a tidy settlement for her, so they wouldn’t need to go into court, and wouldn’t have to defend against two counts of adultery.
He’d been resolute that he’d wait out the time until his marriage was officially over before reaching out to Kate, but he was already wavering and it had only been a few days. Staring down at his phone, he brought up her contact card again and stared at the little black dot, wondering what it meant.
The sound of knocking on his door disturbed him from his dark train of thought. Making his way to the front door, Anthony genuinely smiled for the first time in what felt like ages when he saw Daphne standing on his doorstep.
“Daph,” he said happily, pulling her into a hug. When she drew her arms around him, he let out a relieved sigh.
“A beer?” he asked, holding his up as he led her into the living room. It was still strewn with Gregory’s dirty socks, an old sweatshirt from Eton, and his video game controllers littering the coffee table. Anthony hadn’t had the time or energy since moving back to clean it up and bring his little brother's things back to his mum’s house.
“Yes, please,” Daphne said softly, bending forward to swipe some old gym socks off of a couch cushion and sit down.
Padding on bare feet into the kitchen, Anthony grabbed a beer bottle from the fridge—they were Greg’s but he didn’t think he’d be back for them—and popped it open with a bottle opener shaped like a pair of women’s breasts. He wondered where his little brother had found that .
“Here,” he said, holding out the stem. “I suppose mum filled you in,” he said as he fell back to the couch beside her with a sigh.
“She did,” Daphne confirmed, raising her brows at Anthony before taking a long drag of the beer and pulling it down with a sigh. “Greg’s girlfriend, though, really?”
Anthony shook his head at her and looked away, realising he would have to explain it to everyone now, for them to understand the way it had felt to hold Kate in his arms. To kiss her. To just be near her.
“She’s Gregory’s age,” Daphne added.
“She’s older,” Anthony bit back, fully aware of the way that sounded.
“You could have raised her,” Daphne said softly before taking another sip.
The way that statement made his face burn was unwelcome because the truth was that he had raised all of them, even Benedict in some sense.
After their father had passed, Anthony, at eighteen, had become guardian to all seven of them. Their mother had tried at first, he conceded, trying to convince himself that it was true. He’d found her one day in the bathtub after she’d made an attempt on her life. After that it had been easy to get her to assign guardianship to him, to give him power of attorney, and to sign over management of their family properties, before sending her to a treatment facility for her depression.
Regardless, even before all of that, he had ensured their family’s success since Edmund Bridgerton’s passing.
Anthony had taken Benedict to rehab the first time and both times after. He’d attended Daphne’s ballet recitals, hell, he’d gone with her every time she’d needed new ballet slippers. He’d even taken her hair brush and styling gel out and fumbled until he’d given her the perfect bun for her classes. He’d gone to the principal's office when Colin got in trouble, gone to all of their parent/teacher conferences, helped Francesca study for her exams, and tucked Gregory and Hyacinth in at night.
He’d done all of it, regardless of how his older siblings had resented him for it. Or how his mother acted like none of it ever happened after she returned home. All of those memories flashing through his mind, Anthony felt a burn in his chest at the realisation that Daphne was the only one to reach out since they’d all returned to town.
“Her age doesn’t stop how I feel,” he explained softly, taking a pull of his beer and staring off into the distance, wishing she was there with him, but rueful over the fact that he still barely knew her. “I know it was wrong, Daph, but I don’t regret it. And I hate myself for that because I know how much it hurt Gregory.”
“It wasn’t just the sex?” she asked, turning to face him on the couch, her bottle balanced on her knee.
“ No ,” he whispered vehemently. Suddenly he could see Kate in his mind, standing in the sunshine that first morning back, in her room, her bare breasts shining gold in the sunlight. He couldn’t explain how when he met her, he felt like he’d known her his entire life. Couldn’t explain the way she made him feel when she was simply sitting beside him. He wanted that every day.
Looking down at his lap, Anthony began to peel the label from his beer bottle. “I filed for divorce.”
“Well, that was a long time coming,” Daphne conceded, the beer in her bottle sloshing as she lifted it to her lips, the smell of hops hitting Anthony’s nose. “Especially after that whole ordeal with Fife. We were all surprised when you decided to tough it out.”
“I should have probably ended it then,” he responded, looking across the room at all the things Gregory had left behind. There was a picture of his football team from school, Anthony standing behind him from when he had volunteered as an assistant coach. They’d come in second place in the championship that year and Anthony had been so proud.
“But hindsight is 20/20 I suppose,” he added, wondering if Greg would want that picture back now. “Are they all angry with me?”
Sighing, Daphne settled back into the couch, her gaze drifting to the football photograph as well. “Colin is and Penelope is going along with him. So is Hyacinth. Mum just seems disappointed, and so does Franny. I’m not sure Eloise cares, what with the Marina drama. And you know how easygoing Benedict and Henry are, I’m sure they’ll reach out soon.”
That was a relief, Anthony thought. He’d expected them to all be cross and disappointed with his behaviour.
“And Simon?” he asked, chancing a glance over to Daphne’s dark grey eyes, feeling a slight pang of fear in his stomach for the realisation that she hadn’t mentioned him. That he wasn’t there with her. That his childhood friend hadn’t texted him.
“He wants to talk to you,” she explained carefully, her fingers starting to peel the label affixed near the mouth of the bottle. “I think he’s a little disappointed, especially after the drama that happened when he and I got together.”
“Ah,” Anthony said, his eyes burning as he nodded in feigned understanding. Letting out a shaky breath, he looked away, trying to ignore the way that statement made his stomach drop.
Anthony had given Simon a difficult time when he’d finally admitted to dating Daphne ten years ago. It had come to blows and Anthony had justified his actions by saying family came first. Implying, in some way, that Simon was not also family. It had damaged the bond that they had shared since they were boys, and it had taken until Simon and Daphne’s wedding for them to begin repairing their friendship.
Feeling like a massive hypocrite, Anthony upended his bottle into his mouth, drinking down the rest of the beer that had grown warm from his hand.
“Give him some time, he’ll reach out when he’s ready,” Daphne said as she stood, setting her half-empty bottle on the table. “I love you, Anthony,” she added, “we all do, just give everyone some time. Especially Gregory.”
When his children were with their mother, throwing himself into his family medical practice was the only way Anthony could find to cope with the distance from his siblings, and from his self-imposed distance from Kate. He was still desperate to talk to her and almost texted her daily, but held back, though he hated himself for it.
He had bought out his wife’s share of the practice, which had not come cheap, but it had made it a sanctuary that was free of her. She, in turn, had purchased a house, which Anthony was grateful for. It meant that he could move back into his home in due course.
It came as a welcome relief when a few weeks after sharing a beer with Daphne, a text from Simon arrived, inviting him to Simon’s new pub that evening for drinks. Anthony jumped at the chance and responded immediately.
Showing up in boat shoes, blue jeans, and a tucked-in dark blue oxford with the sleeves rolled up, Anthony felt underdressed when he realised that Simon’s new place was quite trendy, with many patrons in clubwear. He supposed it didn’t matter, the only person he needed to impress that evening was Simon, and he didn’t think his old friend cared about what he wore.
Stepping inside, he was relieved that the atmosphere was not oppressive or overly dark or loud. It was actually quite nice, done up with decor a la roaring 20s, complete with a brass band and powerful singer who took centre stage.
At a table toward the back sat Simon, dressed in an old-fashioned tuxedo with tails and a starched collar, as many of the waitstaff were dressed. Anthony thought perhaps he was in fact underdressed and wished Simon had told him to wear his tux, though Anthony realised it was still at the cleaners. As he made his way across the busy floor, he mused that his wife used to pick those things up.
Upon noticing Anthony, Simon stood, pushing his chair back with a scraping sound, and drew Anthony into his arms. The gesture came as a relief, and Anthony held him tight for a moment. He missed the way his family was always touchy-feely and the fact that he’d only been able to hug his kids in the last few weeks.
“I’m sorry for not calling sooner,” Simon said as he sat back down, Anthony joining him in the opposite chair while Simon gestured toward a waiter passing by. “Launching this place has been insane and I just… I guess I wanted to make you sweat.”
Two martinis were placed at their table, each with an olive, and Anthony immediately pulled his towards him, twirling the stem between his fingers. “I understand,” he said softly, keeping his eyes focused on his glass.
“I need you to explain it to me,” Simon said, taking a sip and turning to focus on Anthony. “Everything about the affair.”
Anthony looked up to rebuke that word, affair , it was so much more than that. But Simon waved him off. “You filed for divorce the moment you got home—I know it must have been more than just sex. Plus, I have never known you as a guy willing to blow up your entire family just to fuck about.”
“I thought it was just sex at first,” Anthony confessed, his eyes bouncing to Simon’s for a minute before focusing back on his martini glass. “I couldn’t say no to her… god, no, it was more than that. She wasn’t some temptress. There was a pull I couldn’t deny, neither of us could. Then when I was drawn in I realised how much more there was. So much that I had never experienced in my life. And I knew how much it would hurt Gregory. But I couldn’t stop it.”
“You’ve had a little taste of how I felt when I fell in love with Daphne,” Simon said softly, his eyes sad when Anthony finally looked up at them. “I knew you would hate me and the thought of losing your friendship tore me up, but I still had to do it.”
“I am so sorry,” Anthony said, his eyes watering at the confession and at the realisation that he had never actually apologised to Simon. He felt rueful at the thought, considering how much better he understood his friend now.
“I don’t think there was any way you would have ever understood until you fell in love with someone yourself,” Simon responded, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile.
Love. The word made Anthony’s head spin. It had been in the back of his mind, but the idea had felt ridiculous. He’d known Kate for less than five days. It simply wasn’t possible.
“How long did it take before you realised you were in love with Daphne?” He asked, his head facing his glass, but his eyes tilted up shyly to look at Simon’s expression.
“I am pretty sure I fell in love with her that day you launched your practice when that bottle of champagne exploded all over her dress,” Simon explained, his eyes growing soft as he looked off into the distance. “It was the first time I saw her as a woman and not as your kid sister. But realised?”
Shaking his head, Simon’s mind seemed to drift off for a moment. “After our first date, I think, but I pushed her away hard, afraid of losing your friendship plus I was dealing with all of the nonsense from my father. Thankfully, Daphne was very persistent.”
Maybe love moved fast, Anthony thought. Brushing the thought aside, he shook his head and finally lifted the glass to take a sip. It was a vodka martini and the way the vermouth and top-shelf vodka danced across his tongue was a welcome sensation.
“I was really happy when you texted earlier,” Anthony confessed, licking the traces of vodka off of his lips. “Everyone's gathering around Gregory right now, as they should, but I’ve been pushed out. Haven’t been invited to family dinner at mum’s or Eloise’s Wimbledon watch thing.”
“The Wimbledon thing was painful, Ben wore Eloise’s tennis skirt and got drunk and barfed on her cat,” Simon responded, downing the rest of his glass and signalling to a waiter for two more. “And family dinner was depressing, with Gregory so moody and Eloise and Marina constantly fighting. It’s best you weren’t there.”
As the waiter deposited two fresh martinis on their table, Anthony downed his first one and placed the empty glass directly on the man’s serving tray sans olive.
“I know it’s hard but give them some time,” Simon said, taking his second drink, “and come to Augie’s school recital this weekend. Bring Charlotte, she loves that shit, Neddy can stay at your mum’s until later. Let him work his magic on his uncle Gregory.”
The last time Anthony had taken Charlotte to one of Augie’s school events, she’d insisted on sitting in his lap the entire time, jamming the heels of her fancy patent leather shoes into his shins over and over again. At the moment, nothing sounded better.
One more drink later, the conversation veered back to the original topic at hand. “So, how’s Kate?” Simon asked, grabbing the toothpick with his olive on it, and biting down with a slight moan. Olives soaked in vodka were quite nice, Anthony thought, reaching for his own.
“I haven’t spoken to her since that weekend,” he said quietly, downing his third drink and gesturing toward the waiter as he passed by their table. He wondered if the burn in his stomach was the vodka or the fear that Kate did not want to hear from him.
“What the fuck, mate?” Simon asked, laughing and reaching over to slam Anthony on the arm. “I thought this thing between you two was real!”
“It is!” Anthony responded, sitting up straighter, only to realise how dizzy that made him. “But I’m still married. I don’t want to be married the next time I see her.”
“But you miss her,” Simon responded, gesturing with his martini glass, some of the liquid slipping over the edge onto his hand. Licking his palm, Simon eyed Anthony. “You can at least call her.”
“I miss her so much it’s tearing me up inside, but it’s been so long. I don’t know if she wants to hear from me.” Anthony slammed down the fourth drink the second the waiter deposited it on the table, thankful this time the young man also left a basket of steaming hot chips before walking back to the bar.
“You’re never gonna know unless you talk to her,” Simon cut back, taking a chip and biting down before groaning and opening his mouth to wave his hand in front of his face. “Hot.”
Laughing, Anthony grabbed one but coughed it out a second after biting down. “Bloody hell they are.”
“You’re allowed to love her,” Simon added, once they’d both calmed from the overly hot chips, waving the waiter away when he stopped by to see if he could bring them another round. “You shouldn’t feel guilty for that. You made a mistake, made amends, and are trying your best to make up for it. Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean you deserve to be unhappy.”
Nodding at his friend, Anthony didn’t think he could bring himself to respond. Everything had been wrapped up so tightly inside of him and he realised that’s exactly what he’d been doing. Punishing himself by staying away.
“Anthony,” Simone said, placing a hand on the back of Anthony’s chair, “you deserve the chance to have what Daphne and I share.”
Grabbing Anthony’s phone from a puddle of martini on the table, Simon handed it to him. “Just bloody call her.”