Chapter 6: Shared Agreement

The afternoon sunlight streamed through Kim’s kitchen windows as she arranged a tray of teacups, the warm rays catching dust motes that danced in the golden light. The polished granite countertop reflected the glow, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere that belied the tension simmering beneath the surface. Outside, children’s laughter floated in from the backyard where the kids played on the trampoline, their carefree shrieks punctuating the weighted silence of the house. Kim paused, watching Lloyd through the window as he checked on them, his easy smile masking whatever secrets he’d been keeping. The way his shoulders tensed when he thought no one was looking told a different story entirely.

It had been nearly two months since that steamy afternoon where Ian made love to her. The memory of it still lingered in Kim’s mind, a secret thrill that made her pulse quicken whenever she thought about it. They met every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon whenever Ian worked from home, their encounters hidden behind closed doors and whispered excuses. Every Wednesday night when she worked late at her Clinic, Ian would visit after he came home from work and they would fuck voraciously among the sterile equipment and examination tables, their passion a stark contrast to the clinical environment with its harsh fluorescent lighting and antiseptic scent. Ian was like a workhorse who never tired, his stamina remarkable, and he always made sure she finished, leaving her satisfied yet craving more each time.

The weight of their secrecy had begun to press down on Kim, making each rendezvous both exhilarating and increasingly burdensome. The constant lying and sneaking around grated against her core values—she had always prided herself on her honesty and directness. Each fabricated excuse felt like a betrayal of who she truly was, a compromise of her integrity that left her feeling hollow despite the physical fulfilment. Kim had spent her life being straightforward with everyone, and these past months of deception had her feeling like she was living someone else’s life, a stranger to herself.

She had invited Ian and Purdey over today, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the wide windows, casting long shadows across her polished hardwood floors as she waited in her living room. Her stomach knotted with anticipation, her fingers nervously arranging and rearranging the throw pillows on her sofa. She was sick of the sneaking around, the guilty glances, the elaborate excuses. The thought of continuing to hide their relationship from their children made her chest tighten with anxiety. She wanted to wake up beside Ian without rushing him out before dawn, to share breakfast with him and the children, to hold his hand openly when they went out together. It was time they set some ground rules, brought their arrangement into the light—at least partially—before the whole thing collapsed under the weight of deception or before she burst from containing so many secrets that pressed against her very nature.

“Need any help?” Purdey appeared in the doorway, elegant as always in fitted jeans and a silk blouse that caught the light with each subtle movement.

“I’ve got it,” Kim said, adding sugar cubes to a small ceramic dish, the soft clink of porcelain against porcelain filling the charged space between them. “How’s the new project going?”

“Demanding clients, impossible deadlines—the usual.” Purdey leaned against the counter where two months ago her bare ass sat, while Lloyd was fucking her, her eyes following Kim’s movements with an intensity that seemed both curious and wary. “Thanks for having us over. Ian’s been talking about your scones all week.”

As if summoned, Ian entered, his hand briefly touching the small of Purdey’s back—a gesture too intimate or perhaps not intimate enough. “Something smells amazing.”

The four adults settled around the kitchen table, steam rising from their cups like ghostly tendrils as conversation flowed—neighbourhood gossip, work complaints, school updates. Kim watched how Lloyd’s eyes kept finding Purdey, the slight flush creeping up his neck when their hands accidentally touched reaching for the cream. The room felt suddenly too warm, too small, the walls closing in with each exchanged glance.

“More tea?” Kim asked when the conversation lulled, already rising to refill cups, the chair scraping against hardwood with a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“I’ll help,” Purdey offered, following her to the counter, heels clicking a staccato rhythm that matched Kim’s quickening pulse.

Kim waited until the men were deep in conversation about a vintage car restoration before speaking quietly, her voice barely audible above the persistent hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of the wall clock in the suffocating kitchen. “I know about you and Lloyd.”

Purdey froze, she looked at Kim nervously while holding a teapot, she tried to speak. “Kim, I—”

“PARC Melbourne. Executive suite.” Kim’s voice remained conversational, though her hands trembled slightly against the smooth countertop, betraying the calm she fought desperately to project in the tense atmosphere. “Room 512.”

“I can explain.” Purdey set down the teapot with a hollow clink against the tray, composed.

“No need.” Kim turned, meeting Purdey’s eyes directly, unflinching in the harsh afternoon light streaming through the half-drawn blinds. “Couple months ago, I came home and you were on my kitchen bench while Lloyd tried to drill a new hole in you.”

Purdey’s mind catapulted back to two months prior—to her perched on that kitchen counter, breathless and reckless as he suggested they indulge right there for the thrill of it. They had been too consumed by desire to notice the sound of keys in the lock, too engrossed in each other to register that they were no longer alone in the house... “What?”

Kim recounting that day she first slept with Ian began telling Purdey her story.

“At the time I couldn’t bear seeing Lloyd and you together in my kitchen. The sight of you both standing there, your shoulders almost touching, was too much. So I fled to my workplace and hid in the apartment upstairs, desperate to clear my head. That night as I slept on the unfamiliar mattress, the sheets cold against my skin, my thoughts drifted to how Ian had comforted me when I first saw the Hotel receipt—his warm hands on mine, his voice steady in my ear, and all the emotional support he had provided through those dark hours.” Her words hung in the air between them like a blade, sharp enough to slice the tension that had been building. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then the following day, I went over with cake—carrot cake with buttercream frosting, his favourite—to thank Ian, but the sweetness on our tongues led to something more. We ended up sleeping together, and now...” She paused, the weight of her next words heavy on her lips. “Since we slept together my period hasn’t come.

The statement hung between them like a blade. From the table, Lloyd’s laughter rang out at something Ian had said, oblivious to the conversation happening three feet away, the sound jarring in the suffocating atmosphere.

“Does Ian know?” Purdey whispered, her voice cracking on his name.

“Not yet.” Kim arranged biscuits on a plate with methodical precision, each placement deliberate, controlled, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around her. “The thing is, this isn’t about you and Lloyd anymore.”

Purdey’s head turned in confusion. “Then why—”