The Love Affair

Chapter Twelve

Insomnia fought with me, making me restless and anxious. I couldn't remain in the bed any longer. Nick was sleeping beside me, deep in slumber. A door could be slammed, and he'd still be asleep. I decided to venture downstairs towards the conservatory, my safe haven. It was a dark canvas outside. The few garden patio lights we'd had set out, lit the patio path and illuminated above it, the eerie tall oak tree's witchlike fingered branches. They seemed to claw out as the breeze disturbed its peace. I sat admiring it, feeling imaginary goose bumps lurk upon my skin at the rustle of leaves moving.

I'd almost shifted until I spotted an orange light flooding Shane's garden. He must be up. I didn't think twice as I stood up, shoved my feet into a pair of battered trainers beside the conservatory door. I looked back out, I could see him. Even from the height of our fence, I was able to see him. I had noticed he'd had a wooden decking constructed some time back before the house was occupied. It made sense why I was able to. It wasn't by some chance he'd grown an extra foot in height.

Grabbing the back door keys, I slowly turned them into the door before opening the double glazed door carefully despite already knowing Nick wouldn't budge. It was a little chilly as I stepped out. I was barely clothed. My shorts and tank top weren't enough to fight against the biting breeze, but I wasn't too much concerned. At that moment, all I cared about was seeing him. I walked out onto the patio watching wisps of smoke flicker into the wave of light drowning down onto him.

I hadn't expected a word to come out from me. "I didn't know you smoked," I said, startling him a little as he coughed a little and glanced down towards me.

"Fuck. You scared the shit out of me," he confessed, heading towards the fence that separated our gardens. He was towering above me. "And I don't usually," he added, dragging the cigarette to the corner of his mouth. I watched with curiosity as the smoke slowly snaked from out of his lips, entrancing me.

"Why's that?" I asked.

"I only smoke if I'm anxious or shit. This is my first for about month and a half," he replied earnestly, meeting my gaze as I stood beneath him holding my cold arms.

"Why are you anxious?" I found myself saying, wondering why on earth he'd be. He wasn't the one who was married and had slept with their next door neighbour and was shamefully thinking about them day and night.

"So many questions." A grin surfaced before briefly disappearing as he took some more from his lit cigarette and then hung his arms over the fences loosely. "Shit at work. Exes," he said after some short silence. Smoke fled his lips.

"She's marrying--- I mean—"

"—How you know that?" he interjected softly, amusement plastered across his facial features than shock. "Have you been stalking me? Should I consider that as a warning? Are you going to kidnap me and chop off my dick? Not that would be any good for you," he teased, blowing a cloud of tobacco into the sky.

I was blushing and decided to not say a word. It was embarrassing knowing he'd knew I had been snooping about on him now. What else was I going to blurt out? And why was I out here talking to him at three in the morning? I should be asleep, wrapped up against my husband not out here with him.

"But, yes. She sent a wedding invitation in the post. Must be some pity or gloat-in-my-face some sort of shit move," he explained, thankfully not pestering me any further on my knowledge of his recent ex. I didn't want to have the conversation on how I had snooped on social media captivated by him.

"Oh."

"So. " He grinned again, the lit cigarette between his fingers. "What are you doing up and out here? It's a little chilly for a morning stroll." There was that same trace of humour laced within that voice.