The Woman At The Door by Daniel Hurst (books successful people read .TXT) 📕

things, and I know it’s unhealthy to do that. It’s also unfair on Sam as well because if I say that I am trusting him then I can’t be judging him or analysing his behaviour when he is just being himself. If he looks comfortable and casual in the bed, it’s because he is comfortable and casual, and not because he is feeling smug, or satisfied, or like he has gotten away with doing something that he shouldn’t have.

‘I think I might have had one too many at the pub,’ Sam says to me as I take out my earrings and place them on my dresser table. ‘There’s nothing like starting the week with a mild hangover.’

I smile as I pick up a hairbrush and start to comb my hair. But Sam is clearly getting impatient for me to come and join him in the bed, and I see him wriggling in the reflection of the dresser table mirror before he tells me to come and join him.

‘One minute,’ I say, making sure to get my hair in a semi-decent state before I go and lie on my pillow, so it’s not got even more knots in it than it’s going to have in the morning.

‘I’ve missed you,’ Sam tells me, slurring his words slightly, which reinforces what he just told me about potentially having one too many drinks today. But I appreciate the sentiment, even if it is a little cheesy.

‘It’s only been two nights,’ I tell him. ‘And you called round yesterday to get some things.’

‘I know, but I still missed you.’

I smile and put down my hairbrush before heading over to my chest of drawers.

‘What are you doing now?’ Sam moans, clearly extremely eager to get his hands on me under that duvet.

‘I’m just getting my clothes ready for the morning.’

‘Leave it.’

‘No, you know that I like to get it done so I won’t wake you when I get up.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘It only takes a second.’

Sam lets out a deep sigh, but I carry on with what I’m doing because it really will only take a second. I’ve gotten into the habit over the years of getting out my clothes for tomorrow the night before. That’s because I get up earlier than my husband, sometimes even two hours before him due to how early I have to be on site some mornings, so it’s easier for me to do this than to be scrabbling around trying to do it quietly in the dark the next day. I always get out a pair of jeans, a pair of socks and a pair of knickers, as well as some kind of top, although it doesn’t really matter so much what the top looks like because it’s always covered up by my coat and my hi-viz jacket by the time that I get to the site anyway. I could just leave this until the morning like Sam says, but I’ll do it now so that it’s done and it’s one less thing to have to think about on a Monday morning.

Opening up the second drawer, I take out a top before opening the first drawer and rummaging inside for socks and knickers. I find a pair of black socks, and I place them on top of the chest of drawers with the top before going back into the drawer for the knickers. Any pair will do, I’m not going to be flashing them to anybody after all, and I’m just about to take out a rather large and unflattering pink pair when I notice the red panties in the drawer beside them.

I know instantly that they are not mine because I do not own a single pair of red panties.

Picking them up and holding them out in front of me, I get a better look at them, and it only confirms what I knew. They are definitely not mine. They are very skimpy and very sexy, and they are two things that the underwear in my drawer can never be called.

So if they’re not mine, who the hell do they belong to?

I dread the answer, but I have to have it, so I turn around and face my husband in the bed, holding up the pair of mystery knickers in front of me.

‘What the hell are these?’

Sam’s satisfied expression suddenly becomes more serious.

‘What?’

‘Who do these belong to?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m talking about these!’ I say before throwing them at his face.

‘Hey!’ he cries as he gathers them up and looks at them.

‘They’re not mine. So who the hell do they belong to?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘No!’

‘How did they get in here? I sure as hell didn’t put them in here!’

‘Neither did I!’

‘Are they hers?’ I ask, almost before I’ve even had a chance to think the question through.

‘Who?’

‘Hers! That bitch that turned up on our doorstep last week! Do you they belong to her? Has she been in here?’

‘No, of course not!’

‘She’s been in here, hasn’t she! That’s how she knew where you lived. That lipstick was hers, and those knickers are hers too!’

‘Rebecca, calm down!’

‘Get out! I want you gone now!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve only just come back.’

‘I don’t care. I can’t do this.’

‘Just take a second to think this through. If I had been cheating on you then why would I put that woman’s underwear in your drawer for you to find?’

‘I don’t know! You obviously made a mistake!’

‘I haven’t made a mistake because I’ve done nothing wrong!’

‘Then how did they get here?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Is that your answer for everything? The woman at the door. No idea. The lipstick on the shirt. No idea. Knickers in our bedroom. No idea!’

‘Rebecca, please, you need to calm down.’

Sam gets out of the bed and tries to come closer to me, but he is still holding the red panties in his hand, and the sight of them is making my blood boil.

‘I’ve been an idiot. I should have listened to that bitch when she told me what you had