Page 61 of Fling

Chapter 20

On Tuesday morning, Tara sat in her office brainstorming for the Fling advertising campaign. But no matter how hard she tried to focus, she couldn’t get her creative juices flowing.

It was no mystery where her mental block was stemming from, of course. During her pitch, she was speaking from her heart about why she fantasized about infidelity. At the time it was easy because Fling was the perfect escape from her humdrum existence. Jack had rescued her from the tower of unhappiness. But now that Jack was gone, she felt more trapped than ever. The emptiness in her chest had come back with a vengeance, the void desperately calling out for him.

She had gone snooping that morning and discovered Colin’s secret stash of Viagra, which explained why he ran to the bathroom in the middle of their lovemaking. It made her feel strangely insecure, like her body wasn’t desirable without some form of medical assistance. She knew Jack wouldn’t need Viagra. One look at her body and he’d be ready to go. She missed the excitement of having him in her life, even if it was reckless. While her brain begged her to see reason, her body was begging for his carnal touch.

All day yesterday, Emily had been eager to hear the gossip about Tara’s date with Jack. But Tara didn’t want to discuss it. She wanted to pretend it didn’t even happen. And to be fair, there was nothing to tell. She hadn’t even met Jack, and now, after deleting Fling, she had severed her only connection to him. She knew she needed to put Jack completely out of her mind but it was proving to be damned near impossible. She wished she had never heard about Fling in the first place. Pandora’s box had been opened and she knew it would be impossible to get the lid back on. She had already bitten the apple and discovered her nakedness. The problem was, she liked it. The apple tasted like more. She was insatiable.

Coming up with a campaign for Fling suddenly felt like an insurmountable task. Jack was the electrical current that had been supercharging her with confidence. Now, she felt like her battery was right back at 1 per cent. Was she destined to spend the rest of her life as a lonely heart, forever wondering what if?

She found herself scrolling aimlessly through social media in an attempt to distract herself. Celine had a story post up saying, ‘So a lot of you have been asking for my skincare routine . . .’ Tara rolled her eyes. Nobody had asked her for her skincare routine. Still, it wasn’t as bad as the time Celine had put on a full face of makeup for a #NoMakeUpSelfie. Celine had recently given birth to a third baby boy and was oversharing every aspect of it online. Out of politeness, Tara had quickly commented ‘Congradulations’ on her post, to which Celine replied, ‘You mispelled congratulations, haha.’ Tara got extreme pleasure in replying, ‘You misspelled misspelled, haha.’ It was perhaps the pettiest exchange Tara had ever had with Celine and she vowed to never comment again. She dreamed of the day she would be able to unfollow Celine, but she knew it would result in passive-aggressive digs as long as they remained neighbours.

And it didn’t help Tara’s mood that she was currently following the ketogenic diet to try and get her wedding-day figure back. She had read online that she was allowed to eat fats but not carbohydrates. But it wasn’t even noon and Tara felt herself in a slump with zero energy. She felt so irritable. It was torture. How did so many women do the keto diet and make it seem so easy? After only five waking hours without carbs, Tara was willing to kill for a slice of white bread.

She had to find a way to concentrate on the campaign. She had promised Dick Mulligan a full presentation and she was due to pitch it to him in less than a week. Tara remembered that she had tasked Emily with making the lunch reservation for Dick and herself. But Emily had a habit of not following through with clear instructions.

‘Emily, can you come in here?’ she said, paging Emily’s desk phone.

Emily walked in, cautiously. ‘Am I in trouble?’ she asked.

‘Of course not. Why?’

‘I don’t know, it just seems like you’ve gone back to the old Tara. You wouldn’t spill any tea yesterday about your date with Jack.’

‘There’s no tea to spill,’ Tara shrugged. ‘My husband almost caught me, I called you in a panic, I spilled wine all over my dress and bolted out the back door. That’s all there is to the story.’

‘Fair enough. But you still haven’t asked me about my weekend hook-up story. It’s our tradition!’ Emily sulked.

‘I’m sorry, Emily,’ Tara laughed. ‘How did it go?’

‘Another trainwreck,’ Emily sighed. ‘He had a Soviet Union banner as a headboard. It was a big red flag.’

‘Yikes.’ Tara winced.

‘Still, most guys don’t even have a headboard these days. Glass half full right?’ Emily shrugged. ‘Anyway, what was it you wanted to see me about?’

‘Oh yes, I was just wondering if you booked a table at Al Fresco for my pitch with Dick Mulligan?’

‘No, you never asked,’ Emily said, confused.

‘I emailed you twice about it.’

‘Oh, all my work emails get marked as spam.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I mark them as spam,’ Emily said, deadpan.

‘Emily, please be serious!’ Tara snapped.

‘OMG calm down! Stress isn’t good for the baby!’ Emily said, taken aback.

‘WHAT BABY?’

‘ME! I’M THE BABY!’ Emily yelled.

Tara let out a laugh with relief. ‘Sorry, Emily, I’m a mess today. I just really want the entire pitch to go well but I have a creative block from all the pressure.’

---