by Lesley Jones
I turn myself around in his arms and wrap mine around his neck. “You have no idea, baby. No fucking idea.”
He claims my mouth, and it takes me less than a second to surrender.
I waited for Dido to start playing “White Flag”. But instead, it is Shine Down’s “Second Chance” that comes over the hidden speakers.
“Get a room you two. Where are the beers, big man?”
I look around Cam’s broad chest to see my brother trying to get around us to the fridge.
“Big brother Marley, me and you need to talk.”
He stops in his tracks. “We do? About what?”
I’m not gonna hold back, I don’t care that Cam is here to witness this. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, and I want the truth from my brother. What’s done is done, nothing can be changed now, and I’d just like to know the truth. He either slept with her while we were together, or he didn’t. Whatever the answer, I’ll live with it. It’ll hurt and I’ll be pissed off. I am, in fact, pissed off but I’m not as angry as I should be. I don’t know if that’s because of my age or because I’ve got my head around the idea that neither of us were perfect. If Marley doesn’t know the truth, well then I’ll just have to live with that, too.
“Carla.”
Not missing a beat or breaking eye contact with me, Marley nods his head slightly.
Cam steps to my side with one arm still around my waist, holding me against his side.
“Honest to god, George, there’s really not much to tell. They were together on and off when you two were apart. They were never exclusive, and I don’t think she was anything more than a warm and willing body. Apparently, she got pregnant, but because he got back together with you, she terminated the pregnancy without even letting him know. She announced it in a room full of people years later, and he distanced himself from her completely after that.” I watch his throat move as he swallows hard.
“When you lost the baby on New Year’s and things were a little rough between the two of you, she started sniffing around. He wanted no part of it, George. Despite the fact that you kept pushing him away, despite the fact that he was grieving for the loss of his baby just like you were, he kept her at arm’s length. She turned up at your house in Hampstead and made a pass at him. I walked in.”
Whoa. He knew? Marley knew and never said anything to me. The disappointment I felt at that moment almost floored me.
“Don’t look at me like that, George. I walked in on him pushing her away. Things weren’t good between the two of you as it was, and I wasn’t about to make them worse. He told her to leave. He went to Mum’s the next day and you two sorted your shit out, and that was it.”
I nod my head, hating the fact that I actually understand why he didn’t say anything to me. I watch as a look passes between Cam and Marley, and instantly, my suspicions are raised again. Did Cam know about Carla too? Had he also kept quiet all these years?
“What? What was that?” I ask.
“What was what?” they ask in unison. Making me even more suspicious.
“That look you just gave him? Don’t even think about lying to me, Marley Layton.”
He looks from me to Cam, who shrugs his big shoulders from beside me.
I watch my brother rake his fingers through his brown hair, which has the first signs of grey appearing just above his ears.
“I went to see Cam.”
“What?” I ask, thinking that I’ve asked this question a lot lately.
“The night I walked in on Maca and Carla, me and him had a long chat. He was worried that he was losing you. He had it in his head that there was something going on between you and Cam. He’d seen photos of the two of you together at Cam’s club from that night you had a run in with Haley White. He felt that the way Cam looked at you in those pictures meant there might be something going on. Anyway, I told him to man up and sort his shit out, the next day, he went over to mums and the pair of you flew off somewhere on holiday, remember?”
I nod my head. “The Dominican. We stayed for two weeks.”
“Whatever. Anyway, in my infinite wisdom, I thought it would be a good idea to give Cam a visit and warn him to stay the fuck away from you.”
My mouth quite literally hangs open as I step back from Cam and look up at him. He holds his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “Don’t go blaming me for this. I told you in Australia that your mum and brothers had all threatened me with bodily harm.”
He’s right, he did.
But then I remember something.
“You told me he came to see you when we first got together.”
Cam shrugs. “It was a little white lie. I didn’t wanna cause trouble.”
“Don’t blame him,” Marley interrupts. “I went to see him again when you came back from Australia and asked him not to mention what I’d done.”
Marley tilts his head to the side and holds out his hands, palms up. “I lost ya once, George. I didn’t want us falling out. I’d lost one of my best mates, I didn’t wanna lose another.”
I don’t know whether to bitch slap or kiss him.
“Now, you got a fucking beer or what?”
I slap him.
We spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying the company of family. My brothers, their wives, some of their kids, our kids, and my parents. We eat, we drink, and we laugh. We sit around the outdoor dining table on our back patio telling stories and we reminisce. Sean’s name is remembered with affection, and I neither cry nor feel guilty.
With the help of my two best friends, I’ve finally accepted the path that my life has taken. Having regrets is pointless. Feeling guilty changes nothing. I need to accept that what I had with Sean, was most definitely true love but it was far from perfect. The time has finally come to love my husband the way he deserves. I don’t have to divide my heart into sections. It’s his, all of it. He might share it with our children, Sean, and my lost babies, but he has it all.
I reach across and run my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. I love it when he grows it longer and down past his collar.
John Legend’s “All of Me” begins to play, and I smile at the relevance of my playlist again. I wonder if I actually subconsciously choose to download the songs I do?
“What are you smiling about?” Cam asks quietly from beside me. Every one seems to be engaged in their own conversations, except my parents. They are both snoring quietly, and my dad’s hand is covering my mum’s on the arm of her chair.
“You, Tiger. I’m smiling at you.”
“And why is that, Kitten?”
“Because I love you so fucking much, that’s why. I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life right now, and it’s all thanks to you and everything you’ve given me.”
His warm brown eyes dart over my face, giving me tingles in my belly. “Are you drunk, Kitten?”
I giggle. “Maybe a little, but that doesn’t mean I don’t mean every word I just said.”
He nods his head slowly while rubbing his index finger back and forth over his top lip.
“So, you loving me enough for anal later?”
“Cam!” I say a little louder than I intend. “Seriously. Do you never give up?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “No.”
I laugh at his honesty.
“A blow job then? Gwaaaan, you know you wanna.” He winks. I melt.
“I think I can stretch to a blowie.”
“Now. Go inside right now, Kitten. Go up to our bathroom and wait for me on your knees.”
My mouth goes dry as my palms begin to sweat. I won’t even mention what happens in my knickers.
I stand from the table, about to make up an excuse about collecting up the empties when the alarm sounds to let us know the security gates at the front of the drive are opening.
“That’ll be Paige. She just text me for the gate code.”
Paige hadn’t made it over last night. Her new boyfriend flew in from America to surprise her, an
d she’s bringing him over today to meet us all.
“Unlucky Tiger, the BJ will have to wait.”
Cam pouts and drops his big soft bottom lip. I lean forward catch it between my teeth before kissing his mouth. I’m still holding the empty bottle of wine I’d cleared from the table a moment ago.
“Did we have odds on this one?” Marley asks.
“Yeah, I said a week at four to one, you said two days at three to one, and Cam said an hour at ten to one. Dad was being generous and gave him a month at a one hundred to one and Bailey plans on terrifying the poor bloke and gave him twenty-four hours at eleven to two.”
“You lot are horrible,” I tell them.
Every time one of the girls brings home a new boyfriend, my brothers, Cam, and my dad run a book on how quickly they can scare them off. It’s funny, but mean.
“Just be nice for a little while, please?” Jimmie asks. “He lost his dad or step dad a few years back and now he’s flown over here because his mum’s really sick.”
“I thought you said he was American?” Len questions.
“His dad’s American, his mum’s English. He’s lived most of his life in the States. He’s in a band I think she said, or his dad was. I can’t remember, but any way, just be nice.”
Marley and Bailey both clap then rub their palms together and make a mwaaaahaha sound.
“Bring it on,” Marls says quietly and then makes an umph noise as Ash elbows him in the ribs.
Paige walks out onto the patio looking stunning. Her hair’s piled on top of her head, she has minimum makeup on, and is wearing a pair of denim cut-offs with a gorgeous off the shoulder cheese cloth blouse in a pretty baby blue colour. The wedges on her feet matching her top perfectly. She looks every inch the catwalk model she is.
Holding her hand and looking a lot less nervous than he should, is a bloke of about twenty-five. He’s wearing board shorts, a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops. Sunglasses cover his eyes.
“Hey, everyone. This is my boyfriend RJ. RJ, this is my family.”
RJ lifts his sunglasses up to his head and rests them there.
“Hey, all, thanks for having me over.” He smiles and they start to make their way towards the table. I watch them approach with a strange sense of unease creeping over me, the closer they get. There’s something about this boy’s face that looks vaguely familiar, and I’m not sure if it’s that or the wine that is making me feel both sick and a little uncomfortable.
Marley stands abruptly, pushing his chair back noisily in the process.
He looks at me, his eyes wide with panic.
“What’s the RJ stand for mate?” My dad, who is now wide awake and sizing up his next victim, asks.
“Oh, um, Rocco Junior. My dad was Rocco Taylor, it just saved on confusion.”
Marley almost staggers over as he backs away from the table. I drop the empty wine bottle I was holding.
The End
A Different Kind of December
Playlist
I Wish it Could Be Christmas Every Day—Wizzard
Un-break My Heart—Tony Braxton
Santa Baby—Eartha Kitt
Christmas Wrapping—The Waitresses
Fairytale of New York—The Pogues featuring Kristy McColl
For everyone in book world, my readers, my people, my tribe.
Merry Christmas and a happy, healthy, wealthy and wise new year.
Chapter One
“This needs to stop, G.”
“I know.”
“It’s been seventeen years, and I know it’s hard—believe me, I know just how hard it is. But it’s time to let it go, baby.”
“I can’t. I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. You’re so much stronger than you think you are. So much stronger than I would’ve been had the tables been turned. You’re missing out on so much of what you have here. Life is for the living, G, and yours is beautiful. What you’ve built, what you’ve achieved? I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“You don’t mind . . . I mean . . . do you care? Does it bother you?”
“Of course it does. Of course I wish it was you and me and our kids, but that isn’t the way it worked out for us. I’m just so glad that you’re happy, that your life is full, and you’ve got a man that loves you exactly the way that I do, except he’s a bit more of a control freak where you’re concerned. You’ve got us both wrapped around your little fucking finger.”
“He’s a good man.”
“He loves you; that’s all I care about.”
“What does that mean? What d’ya know? Is he not a good man?”
“G, calm the fuck down. I didn’t mean anything other than he could be the patron saint of husbands and it wouldn’t matter to me if he didn’t treat you right. But he does. You and the kids. He makes me sick he’s so fucking perfect.”
“He isn’t perfect. He leaves wet towels on the bed and whiskers in the sink, and he doesn’t always flush.”
“Are you being serious right now? He doesn’t flush in case it wakes you up, and you are the messiest person I know, so don’t even go there with wet towels on the bed. You’re a total slob when you wanna be and then completely anal about everything being spotless when you don’t … especially when your mother’s coming over.”
“I love that you still know me so well.”
“Always, G. Always.”
“You’re gonna go, I can feel it.”
“I can’t help it, babe, I have to. I just want . . . just try to have a good day today. Let go of the guilt. Do your Christmas thing, but let your people love you. Your kid's worry. Your husband worries, and the Looney Tunes you call family worry.”
“I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Good girl. I love you, Georgia Rae.”
“I love you, too. Kiss Beau and baby M for me, and tell them I love them.”
“They know, G. They know.”
I sit up straight, my eyes wide as they attempt to take in my surroundings. The room’s dark, but I can hear at least one bird singing outside.
Cam still sleeps soundly beside me, but it’s Sean’s lips that I can feel on mine. I brush my fingers over them and breathe in deeply.
I both love and hate moments like this. They make me feel completely torn.
I stare down at my husband. His arms are stretched out above his head, disappearing under the pillow that his head rests on.
At my request, he’s been growing his hair since last summer. He’s had it trimmed a couple of times, but at the moment, it’s the perfect length. It curls where it reaches his collar, and the front is long. Though he usually pushes it back, right now it’s partly hanging in his face. I want to reach out and run my fingers through it and then rake my nails over the beard covering his cheeks and chin. It’s a gorgeous silver-grey and has become one of my favourite things about him.
One of an endless list.
He’s my rock. My world. He makes me who I am, a much better person than I could have ever hoped to be, and yet, here I am, watching him sleep after waking from a dream about the other love of my life.
Sean McCarthy.
He doesn’t come to me often these days. But when he does, I know.
I can feel him, smell him.
On me.
I slide out of bed and head for the bathroom. I do what I need to do, wash my hands, and lift my hoodie from the hook where I left it last night as I slide my feet into my UGGs and head out onto the landing.
Our bedroom is at the very back of our house, and the kids’ rooms are all towards the front. Kiks is the only one with her door open, so I take a peek inside to check on her. She’s our sensitive child and has recurring nightmares. They started when we explained to the kids about my past, about Sean, Baby M, and Beau. She knows about Tamara, how she died, and that Cam was shot . . . and she worries about all of it.
I feel guilty about this. The fact that my past has impacted on my daughter�
��s peace of mind. Given a choice, I would’ve protected all of my kids and only told them what I felt was necessary, but there’s something out there called the internet, and we thought that it was best we told them the truth and answered their questions ourselves.
Becks lifts his head from where he’s curled at the bottom of Kiki’s bed and looks towards me, his tail wagging while the rest of him remains still.
My daughter’s dark hair is spread out around her as she lies with her face buried in the pillow. A black T-shirt covers her skinny frame, and I watch her shoulders move up and down as she breathes.
Kiks, Lu, and George will all be turning fifteen after Christmas, and our house is a hive of teenage hormonal tension. Kiks probably causes the least drama, unless of course, Lu chooses to pick a fight with her.
I head down to the kitchen and make myself a coffee. Our other dog, Rooney, isn’t in his bed either, and I assume he’s with one of the other kids. George probably, since Lu and Harry both complain when the dogs lie on their beds, which, considering I have a no dogs upstairs rule, should never actually happen. But I’m only their mum, no one ever bloody listens to me.
The whole world thinks I’m some kind of superwoman who’s battled on through tragedy to build an empire and become a world-renowned philanthropist. My kids and my dogs, though, couldn’t give a monkey’s about any of that and have very selective hearing when it comes to listening to anything I say.
I sometimes wonder if they would listen if I stamped my feet and shouted, “Do you know who I am?” Probably not. They’d all be wearing their noise-reducing headphones and not hear a word.
Or, they’d just blatantly ignore me.
I smile to myself as I head to the mudroom, pull on Cam’s quilted Barbour jacket, and grab a blanket from the basket I keep by the back door. If only they knew about the things I used to get up to. I used to live such a rock-star life. I could never confess to my kids some of the things I’ve done over the years. Some of them when I wasn’t much older than they are now. Lu would disown me, Kiks would pass out in shock, George would just go into denial and Harry? Well, I might just get a fist bump from him. He usually has my back.
