walls with colourful rugs and furnishings in deep tones of red. And she loved the location - a trendy, vibrant pocket of London, which buzzed with cafes and ambience.
“Thank you,” she said. “Do you still live in the same condo?”
He’d bought a lovely place by the ocean when they’d been together, as an investment, but travelling the world from one tournament to the next hadn’t really been conducive to setting down roots. It had always felt more like a rental than a proper home. Much more of their time had been spent living out of suitcases in hotel rooms.
“No, I sold that and bought something further up the coast. It’s much nicer and bigger than the last one. The complex even has tennis courts, just in case I get the urge.”
He chuckled as he said this, removing his I-phone from his pocket to show her some pictures. It was stunning, bougainvillea creeping up the outside walls and spacious inside, with a divine, open plan kitchen and living space.
“Was it weird meeting Anthony?” she asked.
Claire still hadn’t met Anthony’s new girlfriend and she certainly wasn’t in a hurry to do so. But she imagined meeting Jonah’s ex would be on a whole new level. It would be hard to accept that a woman, other than herself, had borne him a child.
“A little,” he admitted.
“Well, at least it’s over and done with,” she appeased.
Jonah downed the contents of his wine glass.
“He looks like Barack Obama.”
Claire laughed. She’d not seen the comparison before, but Jonah was absolutely right. Anthony had recently shorn his mad, afro hair, and did now resemble the American President. Claire put down her knife and fork and pushed her plate away. Despite the meal being delicious and Jonah having barbecued the chicken to perfection, she just didn’t have an appetite. Well, not for food anyway.
--------------
The Claire of old had always been at ease with her body. She’d had enviable long legs, womanly curves and a bust which too often had caused men to defy etiquette by talking to her cleavage instead of to her face. Whilst she’d never liked the tone of her skin, a pale cream which didn’t tan no matter how long she lazed in the sun, Jonah had always found her colouring alluring. With her fiery hair and white limbs, he thought she looked as if she’d just walked out of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus .
That was then, though, and this was now. Superficially, not much had changed. She’d not gained weight since childbirth and her hourglass figure was still pretty much the same as it ever was. And she still, according to Jonah, looked like Kate Winslet. Yet, as she led Jonah upstairs, their fingers tightly interlocked, two major issues were vexing her. What room should she take him to, just in case Miriam should wake up and how on earth would she avoid Jonah seeing her withered breasts?
In the end she decided on the spare bedroom and ordered him to close his eyes whilst she undressed. His lips curled upwards in amusement and she was grateful that he didn’t probe further. Instead he gamely turned his back to her whilst she slipped out of her denim shorts and T-shirt and clambered under the duvet.
“You can turn around now,” she smiled.
She knew this whole scenario was ridiculous. She was acting like a seventeen-year old rather than a woman of thirty-seven, but she just couldn’t help herself. With Anthony, she hadn’t cared. He’d been a witness to the changes. Jonah, however, was familiar with the twenty-something Claire and not her more mature counterpart. His comment about her approaching her physical and sexual peak hadn’t helped matters either. He kicked off his sneakers and socks, grinning as he moved towards Claire’s side of the bed, sitting on its edge and leaning over, tenderly melting his lips into hers as he stroked her hair back from her
“Thank you,” she said. “Do you still live in the same condo?”
He’d bought a lovely place by the ocean when they’d been together, as an investment, but travelling the world from one tournament to the next hadn’t really been conducive to setting down roots. It had always felt more like a rental than a proper home. Much more of their time had been spent living out of suitcases in hotel rooms.
“No, I sold that and bought something further up the coast. It’s much nicer and bigger than the last one. The complex even has tennis courts, just in case I get the urge.”
He chuckled as he said this, removing his I-phone from his pocket to show her some pictures. It was stunning, bougainvillea creeping up the outside walls and spacious inside, with a divine, open plan kitchen and living space.
“Was it weird meeting Anthony?” she asked.
Claire still hadn’t met Anthony’s new girlfriend and she certainly wasn’t in a hurry to do so. But she imagined meeting Jonah’s ex would be on a whole new level. It would be hard to accept that a woman, other than herself, had borne him a child.
“A little,” he admitted.
“Well, at least it’s over and done with,” she appeased.
Jonah downed the contents of his wine glass.
“He looks like Barack Obama.”
Claire laughed. She’d not seen the comparison before, but Jonah was absolutely right. Anthony had recently shorn his mad, afro hair, and did now resemble the American President. Claire put down her knife and fork and pushed her plate away. Despite the meal being delicious and Jonah having barbecued the chicken to perfection, she just didn’t have an appetite. Well, not for food anyway.
--------------
The Claire of old had always been at ease with her body. She’d had enviable long legs, womanly curves and a bust which too often had caused men to defy etiquette by talking to her cleavage instead of to her face. Whilst she’d never liked the tone of her skin, a pale cream which didn’t tan no matter how long she lazed in the sun, Jonah had always found her colouring alluring. With her fiery hair and white limbs, he thought she looked as if she’d just walked out of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus .
That was then, though, and this was now. Superficially, not much had changed. She’d not gained weight since childbirth and her hourglass figure was still pretty much the same as it ever was. And she still, according to Jonah, looked like Kate Winslet. Yet, as she led Jonah upstairs, their fingers tightly interlocked, two major issues were vexing her. What room should she take him to, just in case Miriam should wake up and how on earth would she avoid Jonah seeing her withered breasts?
In the end she decided on the spare bedroom and ordered him to close his eyes whilst she undressed. His lips curled upwards in amusement and she was grateful that he didn’t probe further. Instead he gamely turned his back to her whilst she slipped out of her denim shorts and T-shirt and clambered under the duvet.
“You can turn around now,” she smiled.
She knew this whole scenario was ridiculous. She was acting like a seventeen-year old rather than a woman of thirty-seven, but she just couldn’t help herself. With Anthony, she hadn’t cared. He’d been a witness to the changes. Jonah, however, was familiar with the twenty-something Claire and not her more mature counterpart. His comment about her approaching her physical and sexual peak hadn’t helped matters either. He kicked off his sneakers and socks, grinning as he moved towards Claire’s side of the bed, sitting on its edge and leaning over, tenderly melting his lips into hers as he stroked her hair back from her
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