Presley Estates, Wesbury
As I pull up to The Chateau, my mind’s a mess, and I’m on the phone with Simone. She’s fretting about whether Aisling knows about us.
‘Do you think she’s figured it out?’ Her voice is laced with worry.
‘It’s looking like she might have,’ I admit.
‘But how? We’ve been so careful,’ she protests. ‘The hospital records, the staff…’
‘People talk, Simone,’ I say, my voice heavy. ‘You can’t always trust everyone.’
She tries to downplay it. ‘Maybe it’s not about us, Duke. Women get upset about all sorts of things, right? I’m one.’
I shake my head. ‘No, it’s about us. I know Aisling. She’s found out.’
She goes quiet for a moment. ‘Do you think someone at the hospital spilled it?’
‘I’m not sure yet,” I reply, my mind racing.
Her determination comes through. ‘I can’t just walk away from this, Duke.’
I sigh deeply, feeling cornered. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘So, what if we just tell her the truth?’ Simone suggests. ‘Maybe she’ll understand, given her fertility issues.’
‘Simone…’ I start, my patience wearing thin.
I turn off the engine, ready to end this conversation. ‘Simone, we need to talk about this later. I’m home now.’
She’s still pushing. ‘But Duke, maybe she’ll—’
‘I’ve got to go, Simone,’ I cut her off, firm but tired. ‘We’ll talk later. Take care.’
And with that, I hang up, stepping out of the car, bracing myself for whatever comes next inside The Chateau.
I stand at our front door, my heart pounding with a mix of guilt and dread. As I step inside, I see Aisling in the kitchen, her back to me, focused on chopping vegetables.
‘Hey…’ I call as I walk in, feeling like I’m treading on thin ice.
She doesn’t turn around. ‘Welcome home,’ she says, her tone flat and distant.
I linger there, feeling out of place in my own home. ‘What are you making?’ I ask, trying to bridge the gap with small talk.
‘Curry rice with grilled fish, and salad,’ she answers without looking at me, her voice neutral.
‘Okay.’ The word hangs awkwardly in the air. ‘I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll be down soon.’
She nods, a brief, mechanical gesture. I retreat upstairs, the weight of my secret pressing down on me. The truth about Simone is like a barrier between us, and I know I can’t keep hiding it. But facing Aisling, admitting what I’ve done, feels like stepping into a storm.
I need to tell her, but I have no idea how to start.
