Page 59 of The Spare

Ivy shoots Ben an unimpressed look. ‘He didn’t, not really. But he organised for a gang of us to come up from London, from a club he’s a member of, to, er, liven things up, I suppose.’

The pieces of the puzzle are beginning to fall into place, and I don’t like the pattern they’re spelling out. I don’t like it at all. ‘Alchemy,’ I say flatly.

Across from me, Xavier’s and Ivy’s brows wing up in matching expressions of surprise.

‘You know about Alchemy?’ Ivy asks.

God, I hate this. I hate how everyone is talking in code and pussyfooting around some secret truth. ‘Yes,’ I say. I don’t elaborate. I have no intention of telling them I’ve been there, because that is no one’s fucking business but mine and Ben’s. At least my knowledge of Alchemy’s existence feels like a tiny win.

‘Cool.’ She grabs her wineglass and takes a desperate swig as I swivel my fork in my hand. No one—apart from Ben—is touching their lovely food.

‘So you worked at Alchemy.’ I’m processing in real time, but I don’t want to make it sound like a question. I’m on the back foot enough already.

‘Yeah.’ There’s a defiant tilt to her chin, as if she’s expecting me to challenge her.

‘And you… what? Met Xavier at some point at the party?’

Silence.

I lay down my fork. I’ve had quite enough of this. ‘What the fuck am I missing? There’s a foot of subtext at this table, and I feel like I’m up to my knees in it.’

Xavier blinks. Clearly, even after my little outburst on Boxing Day, my ability to swear still takes him by surprise.

Ben releases my thigh so he can clasp my hand on the table instead. ‘Look, sweetheart,’ he says. ‘It was supposed to be Xav’s last hurrah before he⁠—’

‘Married me. Got it.’

He sighs. ‘Yeah. I didn’t feel like he’d let his hair down enough, you know? So I got the Alchemy gang involved, and as soon as I saw Ivy, I knew she was his type.’

If I thought I was smarting already, then this is the first actual cut. Because Ivy and I are polar opposites in every way, and here my own husband is admitting that he picked out the anti-Selena for his brother before he had to enter a life sentence with me. ‘Go on,’ I say, my voice steely. I don’t trust myself to say anything else.

‘I told her to go and wait for him in one of the bedrooms. I thought she could give him a… birthday present.’

I bark out an appalled laugh. There are euphemisms—and there’s that.

‘I distracted you on the dance floor,’ he continues, ‘and he went up to meet her—and the rest is history.’

I distracted you on the dance floor.

Jesus Christ.

I told him the first time we had sex how much of a turn-on that dance was for me. How memorable. I laid myself bare. And all the time, he was just keeping me out of the way so his brother, my fiancé, could get his dick wet? That’s all it was to him?

I’m reeling. This time, the knife cuts deeper.

‘Nothing happened that night,’ Ivy says, her tone urgent. I stare at her blankly. She thinks I’m upset about her and Xav, I realise. ‘Well, not much. Xav was too honourable⁠—’

‘Or cowardly,’ he interjects with a smile of pure adoration in her direction.

‘Or uptight and cowardly, yes. But he wouldn’t do anything—not when Ben was paying me. We didn’t get together for a few weeks after that.’

These punches just keep on rolling, don’t they? But honestly, this bombshell is a welcome reprieve from processing just how superficial Ben’s interest in me was before he stepped in to clear up the mess his brother had made.

Finally, the remaining pieces fall into place.

Oh my God.

‘Hang on.’ I pull my hand out from my husband’s grasp and point at Ivy. ‘Ben was going to pay you to have sex with Xavier? You were a prostitute?’