infidelity

Shhh, I'm having a clandestine liaison.

Luckily my First Love can neither navigate the internets, nor indeed read. Yet.

My par amour and I wave goodbye to First Love in the morning, seemingly up and ready to start the day, but then jump back into bed to while away another hour with cuddles and giggles.
We find stolen moments to share a fond look, or a little snuggle, all the while conscious of First Love's scrutiny, and vague suspicion that something's Going On.

Second Love and I escape the house while First Love's distracted. We go out for tea and cake, flagrantly flaunting our affections with public kisses and nuzzles, not caring who may see us.
Shamelessly we hold hands in First Love's presence, hiding our entwined fingers under soft, fluffy blankets.

And late at night, whilst everyone sleeps, we meet. A silent tryst of half-asleep snuffles and warm embraces.

To be discovered would mean certain grumpy recriminations. I would have to atone for my sins with many hours of play-dough modeling, blanket fort building and endless readings of The Incredible Book Eating Boy. First Love is not quick to forgive.

But even riskier, should First Love discover us entwined in each other's arms, I instantly lose the affections of Second Love. For she is a fickle lover indeed, and saves her happiest squeals and biggest smiles for only one person, her Big Sister.