standing at the door, watching me search, and at once my cheeks stain pink.
He knows.
No, he doesn't.
Don't be stupid.
There's nothing to know. “Hi, Paul!” I withdraw my hands from the cupboard as nonchalantly as I can.
“I just thought I'd look for... some bras!” Okay, this is the main reason why I can't be having an affair. I'm the most crap liar in the world.
Why would I need “some bras”? Do I suddenly have six boobs? “Actually, I was wondering,” I continue hastily. “Is there any more of my stuff anywhere?”
“Stuff?” Paul wrinkles his brow. “Letters, diaries, that kind of thing?” “There's your desk in the office. That's where you keep all your work files.”
“Of course.” I'd forgotten about the office. Or rather, I thought it was more Paul's domain than mine.
“It was a marvelou
