The question people asked most was ‘How could they?’ How could Max and Anya have an affair that lasted so long, despite both being married to people they professed to adore? Yet, Tress truly still believed that her husband had loved her, and that Anya had loved Noah.
After the accident, Anya had explained the affair to Noah, repeating the analogy that she and Max seemed to have lived by. They’d equated it to skydiving. For Max, Tress was his ground. His safety. His happiness. For Anya, Noah was the same. But every now and then, they wanted the excitement of the jump, the thrill of the fall. That’s what Max and Anya were to each other. They’d never fallen in love. They just loved the adrenaline rush and the danger of the secret affair. It had been going on before Tress even met Max, and the bitter irony was that both Max and Anya had agreed to end it, because Tress was about to give birth. On the day of the crash, they were meeting for the last time. One final night together to give them their own private closure on their affair. Instead, they got the most horrific ending, one that cost Anya her marriage and friendships and cost Max his life.
Now this woman had to see the scars of her choices on her face every day.
‘Hello, Tress.’ If Anya was surprised that Tress was here, she didn’t show it.
Tress stopped at the entrance to the porch, leaned against the wood balustrade. ‘Noah said you were back.’
A brief, knowing smile crossed Anya’s lips. ‘Of course, he did.’ There was no bitterness there, only something that sounded more like resignation.
‘Meaning?’ Tress asked archly, a hint of challenge in her tone. Confrontation didn’t come easy to Tress. She preferred to walk away from an uncomfortable situation or from people she didn’t want to spend time with, but if people mistook her calmness or kindness for weakness, they were mistaken. Thankfully, Anya didn’t. She immediately backed down.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. I just… I take it you live here now?’
Ah. That made sense. Anya had put two and two together and ended up with Shania Twain.
‘No, of course not. I live in my own house with Bu—’ She stopped. Somehow, it felt right to give her boy his proper name in this situation, so she went with his official moniker. ‘With my son, Noah.’
Anya’s smile oozed sadness as she made a connection. ‘Today is his birthday.’
‘It is.’ Tress was giving her nothing. She had no desire to chat or to make small talk, so she walked on past Anya, let herself in with her key, placed Noah’s case of beer on his kitchen worktop, then came back out and locked the door. Anya was still there.
‘I just needed to come here. To sit for a while.’ Anya offered an explanation that wasn’t requested.
‘Does Noah know you’re here?’
‘No. I’m just about to go meet him. I asked him to see me today.’
‘I know.’ Tress was struggling to get the words out. She had nothing to say to this woman.
If Anya had an opinion on Tress’s knowledge of her itinerary, she didn’t share it. Instead, she sighed, spoke quietly. ‘Feels strange being here. Like it was another life.’
‘It was.’ If anyone had told Tress this meeting would happen today, she’d have expected that she’d be anxious, angry, maybe bitter, but strangely she felt nothing. The actions of this woman and Max had caused her so much pain, so many tears, and now it was as if some strength, deep in her core, refused to give Anya the power to cause her another second of hurt.
‘So, you and Noah. Are you… are you…?’ Anya couldn’t bring herself to say the words, but Tress knew what she was asking, and she wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of an answer.
She barely glanced at her, as she stepped down the stairs off the porch. ‘Me and Noah are none of your business.’
‘I’m sorry, Tress. For everything. I know that nothing I can say will ever be enough.’
Again, Tress kept an even, calm keel. ‘It won’t,’ she answered succinctly, before starting to walk away.
She’d taken two steps before Anya added, louder, ‘Is there anything I can do, or say…’
Tress spun around. Her calmness in the face of adversity was beginning to crack, but somehow that made her voice lower, her words rapid, like the dull sound of bullets coming out of the silencer on a gun. ‘You had sex with my husband for the entire time we were married. You betrayed our friendship. You broke my best friend’s heart. You are the reason that my son will never know his father, and yes, I know that Max Walker is every bit as much to blame, maybe more, but that doesn’t mean I will ever fucking forgive you. Know that. And know that if you hurt Noah again, you’ll just be adding to the things that you’ll have to answer for in hell. Leave, Anya. This isn’t your home now.’
Tress didn’t even wait for a reaction, she just turned and walked back down the drive, jumped into her car and drove away. She was fine… for about thirty seconds. Then, as soon as she was out of Anya’s sight, she pulled over, buckled forward, her hands shaking, her heart racing, her throat closed by the rush of adrenaline that her fight-or-flight instinct had sent coursing through her. In the early days, after the accident, when she wasn’t too exhausted from taking care of Buddy, too grief-stricken from mourning her husband, too furious about what he’d done to her, too utterly despondent to lift her head from the pillow… Yep, in those days she’d thought so many times about what she’d say to Anya if she ever met her face to face, and how she’d feel afterwards. Now that it had happened, there were too many emotions ricocheting around her head to know the answer to that question.
Leaning back against the headrest, Tress closed her eyes, concentrated on her breathing, talked herself down, until the shaking stopped, then she drove the two streets home.
As soon as she walked in the door, she heard the shrieks of hilarity coming from the kitchen, and realised Nancy and Val were back with Buddy.
Another deep breath. Then another. Then she slapped a smile on her face, and walked down the hall and into the kitchen, scooping her gorgeous son up from his play mat on the floor, where he was hugging one of Ollie the Octopus’s arms. Or was it tentacles?
She kissed him again and again, on the cheeks, the chin, the forehead, making him crease into intoxicatingly adorable giggles.
Tress felt her heart soften, her grin widen, and her blood pressure drop back down to normal. This kid could fix anything.
