Bonus Chapter!

*** This is just for fun. A reader said they'd love to hear more of the other characters in Distraction, especially Robbie. :) In my original draft, I had Robbie's POV too, but I took it out to simplify things. Most scenes I could switch to Libby or Patrick's POV, but this was one I had to cut. It's one of my faves and I thought you might like it. It's where Vanessa admits to Robbie that she's having an affair. It would fit in before Ch13. ***

The gentle breeze drifting in from the window did little to help him breathe as Robbie listened to Vanessa's footsteps coming down the stairs. The girls were in bed and Tallulah had buggered off to Chloe's leaving him no reason to delay this anymore.

'Has Livvy been looking after the kids a lot?' Vanessa asked as she hovered in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself.

'She's picked them up once or twice.' He topped up their wine glasses and sat back in his chair as she sat at the other end of the table. As far as she can get from me.

'They certainly like her. All I've heard about for the last twenty minutes is Livvy this, Livvy that.'

'She's good with them. And her name's Libby.'

Vanessa nodded, staring at her hands as they gently held the stem of her glass.

'What's going on, Van?'

He'd rehearsed the words for an hour while she was putting the girls to bed, hoping not to come across as angry or confrontational. Maybe he'd tried too hard, because he sounded resigned. Or was that how he felt, because the answer was inevitable?

She didn't answer, or look up, but her fingers tightened, her knuckles whitening, as tears tumbled down her cheeks.

And he finally knew.

He'd suspected the worst when she'd bear-hugged the girls but barely managed to kiss his cheek, though he'd pushed it aside as paranoia. For three hours, they'd played happy family, the girls delighted to have her home, and he'd sat back, watching her. She'd kissed them, swearing she missed them, hugging them, promising she loved them more than ever, but she never smiled, not really.

But the tears said it all. No more paranoia.

'Tell me.'

She pressed her lips together, the tears free-falling.

'You're fucking him, aren't you?'

She nodded.

His chair tipped backwards as he stood, the crash echoing around the otherwise silent house. She stared at him, panic in her eyes. He hadn't pushed the chair on purpose, but at least it made her face him.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

Sorry? His world swirled for a moment as he leant on the table. She'd nodded. She'd fucked that... He closed his eyes but images of Jason Benoit, loose-haired and bare-chested, leaning over his naked wife filled his head.

Fuck this.

He threw open the door, struggling to breath. He strode from the house but Vanessa wasn't far behind.

'Rob?'

He paced the yard, his territory, running his hands through his hair. How the fuck was this happening? This was Vanessa, his beautiful wife, the nicest person in the world. How was she having an affair? How? How had it happened? He wanted to run, get the hell away but with a resilience he wasn't aware he possessed, he turned to her.

'What now? Do you want a di...' He couldn't say it. We've been married for thirteen years.

Vanessa stood in the middle of the yard, folding her arms as she prepared for the fight. He'd let her have her moment, to say what she needed, but he wouldn't face her. He couldn't. He leant over a half-door, watching Max pull at his hay net.

'For once...' Her voice wavered. 'For once, something in our lives isn't about you. It's always been about you. Getting married, taking on the farm, your grandma's horses, your job at that bloody holiday company. I thought, I really thought that when you and Xander decided to open the restaurant, it'd be different. I thought you'd be home, but you're not. You're here less, with me less. Please don't get me wrong, Rob, I'm so proud of what you've done with the Mill, I really am, but this is about me. I'm thirty-four years old and all I've ever achieved is to get my face on the cover of Marie Claire and have three children. Other than that, my life is filled with you.'

And mine you.

'Christ, I even run this bloody yard when you're not here and I hate horses.' She sighed. 'But away from here, Rob, I get to be me. People talk to me about music, my talent, me. They don't ask about the kids, or you, or the restaurant, or God forbid, the bloody horses. I don't think you've ever asked about my music. How it's going, am I struggling with a piece.'

I bought you the fucking cello.

'Do you have any idea how much the ends of my fingers hurt after a concert? I've kissed yours better when you've plaited up the ponies, but you've never bloody asked about my blisters.'

Why didn't you tell me?

'But out there, it's like, suddenly, I matter.'

You've always mattered to me.

'I'm sick of just being your wife.'

You were never just my wife. You're the love of my fucking life.

'Rob?'

'You don't get to fuck someone else because you're bored of your husband.'

'I'm not bored of you. I'm fed up with how you treat me.'

'How I treat you? Seriously?' He stared at her.

'You take me for granted.'

'I give you everything you want.'

'No, you don't. You can't.'

And Jason can?

'Because it's not just about a career and getting to be me again.' She looked away from his accusing scowl. 'Rob, I love you, and I know you love me, but I'm not sure it's enough anymore. All we have in common are three children.'

And thirteen years.

'Maybe we were too young. Don't you wish, just sometimes, that I liked horses or cared about show-jumping?' She gave a hollow laugh. 'I know you do. I've seen it when you talk to Daisy. You have something in common. I want someone to talk to about the things I love.'

He pictured Libby sipping a glass of wine, smoking a cigarette while they discussed the horses. The best part of his day. He pushed aside the guilt. That was different. He wasn't shagging Libby.

'Vanessa, what do you want?'

'Time.'

'Time for you to have a little fling? See if the grass is really greener?'

'No. Time to think. For both of us to think.'

'If you're getting a free pass, do I get one too?'

'Is that what you want?' She frowned.

He shrugged.

'Rob, this isn't because I don't love you. It's because I want more.'

'You'll be walking away from your daughters to get it.' He pushed his hands in his pockets. 'You're not taking them.'

More tears trickled from her eyes, but he had no sympathy.

'I wouldn't and here's the thing. I love my kids, you know that, but I know what they mean to you, and that's half the problem. I'm fourth on your list of priorities. The girls, the horses, the restaurant, the wife.'

Ten years ago, the day our unborn son died, I prayed and prayed I wouldn't lose you too. You were dying. You're not fourth on my list. You never have been.

'I want to go away, to think, to be Vanessa Jones, not Vanessa Golding. I want to work out if what I really want is a life in music, or a life here, because I don't think I can have anything in between.'

He craved a cigarette but she'd hate it. Then again, she was fucking that viola-playing wanker. Robbie dug in his pocket taking out the pack of Marlboro Lights.

'You promised you'd never buy any more,' she said, her voice ominously quiet.

'Yes well, you promised to forsake all others.' He lit a cigarette, daring her to stop him. She didn't deserve to know he'd not broken his promise. The cigarettes had been a gift from Libby - one she'd left on the table along with the Depeche Mode CD and a note.

Don't smoke them all at once. And thanks for the song. You're a hopeless romantic, Golding, but I get it. L.

And his somebody walked away, leaving his ego disintegrating.

*** Author Note ***

I really like this scene though it's soooo sad. Poor Robbie. :(