“Can you explain that to me? And just how long have you been involved with her anyway? God damn you, John Taylor… God damn you…” As though she couldn't stop herself, she rushed at him, fists flailing, and then pulling at his hair, trying to maul his face; he resisted her with ease and pulled her arms behind her as he forced her down to the floor, where he cradled her in his arms.

“Oh, babe, I'm so sorry…”

“Sorry?” It was a shriek between laughter and tears as she struggled free. “You come in here and tell me that you're leaving me for someone else and you're ‘sorry’? Jesus Christ…” She took a deep breath then and pushed away from him. “Let me go, dammit.” She looked at him with raw pain, and when he saw that she was calmer, he let go of her arms. She was still breathless from her attack on him, but now she walked slowly to the dark green velvet couch and sat down. She looked smaller suddenly, and very young, the thick sheet of pale blond hair hanging down as she buried her face in her hands, and then slowly she raised her face again, her eyes awash with tears. “Do you really love her?” Somehow it was impossible to believe.

“I think so.” He nodded slowly. “The worst part is that I love you both.”

“Why?” Samantha looked past him into an empty space, seeing nothing and understanding still less. “What was missing between us?”

Slowly he sat down. It had to be told. She had to know. He had been wrong to keep it from her for so long. “It happened during the election coverage last year.”

“And it's been going on since then?” Her eyes widened as she wiped away fresh tears with the back of one hand. “Ten months, and I didn't know it?” He nodded and said nothing. “My God.” And then she looked at him strangely. “Then why now? Why did you walk in here today like this and tell me? Why don't you stop seeing her? Why aren't you trying to save a marriage we've had for more than seven years? What the hell do you mean ‘I'm having an affair and I'm moving out’? Is that all this means to you?”