_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

love with each other and with our new baby. There is no way he was
sneaking around with her, no way in hell that he’s been seeing her all this
time. I would have known. It can’t be true. The phone isn’t his.
Still. I get my harassment log from the bedside table and look at the
calls, comparing them with the meetings arranged on the phone. Some of
them coincide. Some calls are a day or two before, some a day or two
after. Some don’t correlate at all.
Could he really have been seeing her all this time, telling me that she
was hassling him, harassing him, when in reality they were making plans
to meet up, to sneak around behind my back? But why would she be
calling him on the landline if she had this phone to call? It doesn’t make
sense. Unless she wanted me to know. Unless she was trying to provoke
trouble between us?
Tom has been gone almost two hours now, he’ll be back soon from
wherever he’s been. I make the bed, put the log and the phone in the
bedside table, go downstairs, pour myself one final glass of wine and
drink it quickly. I could call her. I could confront her. But what would I
say? There’s no moral high ground for me to take. And I’m not sure I
could bear it, the delight she would take in telling me that all this time,
I’ve been the fool. If he does it with you, he’ll do it to you.
I hear footsteps on the pavement outside and I know it’s him, I know
his gait. I shove the wineglass into the sink and I stand there, leaning
against the kitchen counter, the blood pounding in my ears.
“Hello,” he says when he sees me. He looks sheepish, he’s weaving
just a little.
“They serve beer at the gym now, do they?”
He grins. “I forgot my stuff. I went to the pub.”
Just as I thought. Or just as he thought I would think?
He comes a little closer. “What have you been up to?” he asks me, a
smile on his lips. “You look guilty.” He slips his arms around my waist
and pulls me close. I can smell the beer on his breath. “Have you been up
to no good?”
“Tom . . .”
“Shhh,” he says, and he kisses my mouth, starts unbuttoning my
jeans. He turns me around. I don’t want to, but I don’t know how to say
no, so I close my eyes and try not to think of him with her, I try to think
of the early days, running round to the empty house on Cranham Road,
breathless, desperate, hungry.