My Husband's Wife Read Online Free

bright and early, shoved the washing in the machine and prepped the packed lunches for the day.
    ‘What’s this?’ Phil stood in his work trousers with the padded knees and his black sweatshirt with the name Tipcott and Sons embroidered on his chest and peered into his Bob the Builder lunchbox.
    ‘It’s your lunch! What do you think? I always make your lunch.’ She smiled.
    ‘Yes, love, and I appreciate it, but lunch usually consists of a sandwich, a bag of crisps and a slice of one of your cakes. But this looks like...’ He screwed up his nose, ‘...grass.’
    She laughed loudly; he still had the ability to make her laugh. And she was grateful for the jovial atmosphere that morning. The pregnancy test and their subsequent discussion was forgotten about, for now.
    ‘For God’s sake, Phil, it’s salad, with shredded kale and all sorts of lovely things in a sesame and soy sauce dressing.’
    ‘Oh no! We’re not on a health kick again, are we?’ He snapped the lid shut. ‘Better ring my mum and tell her to make Dad double!’
    ‘Don’t you dare! Yes, we are on a health kick. And we shall do it together. My magazine says we are twice as likely to succeed if we do this together.’
    ‘But I don’t want to succeed. I want to eat my sandwiches at lunchtime and a bit of your cake!’ He scowled.
    ‘You’ll thank me when the summer comes and you can get into your Superdry trunks that we got for Andy and Mel’s barbeque last year.’ She kissed his cheek.
    ‘I love you, Rosie, you know that, but the only way to shift weight is to actually do something about it. Reading articles isn’t enough.’ His tone was soft.
    ‘I know.’ She smiled. ‘But it’s not about how much you love me. It’s about how much I love myself and I don’t all the time, not looking like this.’ She ran the flat of her palm over the roll of stomach that pouched over her jeans. ‘I need to lose it for me and for my health.’ She felt embarrassed, hated having to discuss the subject, especially as she’d been that way since having the girls and could have lost it ten times over if only she’d stuck to her good intentions.
    ‘Well, I’ll support you, of course, but I can’t guarantee that I won’t stop for a sneaky pasty on the way home.’ He laughed.
    ‘Well just don’t tell me about it!’ She laughed too. ‘Where you working today, still up at Mortehoe?’
    ‘Yep.’ He nodded. ‘You should see it, Rosie. My word, it’s something else. The architect is up there every day. Poor bloke’s being run ragged. She keeps changing her mind about the colour of the tiles in one of the bathrooms, the way a wall curves by the pool, could he make the laundry room wider, is it too late to have a real fire in the bedroom? She’s a right pain in the arse and I swear to God it’s like as soon as she’s got something she’s had to argue and fight for, she doesn’t want it any more, has us all running around in circles, just because she’s got all the time in the world. I hate to think how much she’s spent, must be at least three million all in.’
    ‘God! You are kidding me?’ Rosie gasped. ‘Three million!’
    ‘Yep, and that’s just on the rebuild and refit, mind, not what it cost to buy the land and the house that sat on it.’
    ‘Mind you, prime bit of land, that. Right on the clifftop,’ Rosie mused.
    ‘True. And it’s not her only home; apparently she’s got a place in London and one in Florida. But I bet the others don’t have the view she’s got up at Mortehoe. It’s beautiful.’
    ‘It would have to be for three million quid. Did you say it has a swimming pool?’ Rosie tried to picture it.
    ‘It’s got two. One outside – an infinity pool that makes it feel like you’re swimming off the cliff – and another massive one in the basement, where there’s also a gym and a sauna and all sorts of other bells and whistles. It’s like a bloody hotel!’
    ‘No hotel we’ve ever stayed in.’ Rosie lifted