Sweet Child of Mine

by London, Billy

  “Hold on a minute! You assaulted me!”

  “I was provoked,” Liam shrugged.

  “And he’s got witnesses,” Sheila added.

  “And me,” Leila piped up. She was hovering in the living room doorway. With her hair drawn up into a high bun, clothed in jeans and a layered top, she bore very little resemblance to Sarah. How anyone could say otherwise, now she was growing into her features, was simply fantastical.

  “Nana,” Leila said, her voice shaking, “you have to stop. You’re upsetting Dad and Granny and Abigail...”

  “She...”

  “And me! Me. I’m upset. Every time you keep making it worse. He’s not my dad!” She threw a hand in Mark’s bloodied direction. “And I didn’t want to know all of this. I had to go back to that website to understand what was going on.”

  “Website?” Karen asked. “What website?”

  Leila jiggled her arms in frustration. “Dad made one for me. But look.” She turned to Mark. “If you really thought I was yours when Mum had me, you should have done something then. It’s too late now. Dad’s done everything. He’s cleaned up my sick. I’ve peed on him. He taught me how to ride a bike and surf and bake and how important it is to be good to people because you don’t know if you need them in the future. He knew the lines to my first school play better than I did. He’s been here for everything. You’re not my dad. He is. If Mum was still alive, would you even be bothered?”

  Mark blinked. “That’s a bit steep.”

  “Or true,” Liam cut in. “She’s fine. As you can see. She doesn’t need rescuing. Abigail isn’t going to use her for child labour any time soon.”

  “We’ll see about that if she misbehaves,” Abigail murmured.

  “And Dad doesn’t hate me because of Mum. And I’ve been a mahussive bitch to him.”

  Liam groaned. “You’re undermining my parental abilities here.”

  “Shit,” she muttered, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Urgh. Look no offence, but I’m nothing to do with you so...” She pointed both hands to the door. “Nana? Please. I don’t want any more fighting.”

  Karen got to her feet and hugged Leila tightly, sobbing her apologies. “I just wanted to do right by Sarah.”

  “Just be good to Leila and you will be,” Liam urged. Eventually, Karen released the girl and pinched her cheeks.

  Mark’s face still held residual disagreement. “I still think...”

  “Your jaw’s still attached to your face,” Liam said gently. “Take it as a victory.”

  With a final glance at Leila, who sent him a sarcastic little wave, he stormed out of the house. Karen wrung her hands nervously. “Will you be able to visit? Next weekend?”

  Leila looked at Liam. “Don’t see why not.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, following Mark from the house.

  Sheila collapsed on the sofa. “Goodness me! All go in this house, isn’t it?”

  Leila cuddled against him, frowning at the space her grandmother had occupied. “I hope I don’t take after Mum. I don’t need that type of crazy. You see that on TV.”

  There was no changing her. And that could only be a good thing. Kissing her on the top of her head, he sat her down with his mother and caught Abigail’s hand. Pulling her to her feet, he took her into the kitchen, throwing over his shoulder, “We’re just getting the cakes.”

  Abigail waited until they were able to close the kitchen door before she burst into speech. “You were fantastic. Okay, you shouldn’t have hit whatshisface but. You were...”

  He interrupted her gently. “I meant it.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and he waited for her to begin making an excuse to minimise his feelings. “You were pretty angry.”

  Oh, his sweet Abigail. “It doesn’t matter if I was. It’s true.” Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly.

  Chapter Eighteen

  With his lips on her neck, teeth grazing the skin, Liam finally enjoyed the freedom of a naked Abigail in the comfort of his own home. Their “home” date had been a long time coming. He wasn’t happy that she felt the need to disappear in the morning so he could have breakfast alone with Leila, or that he was kicked out of her home at god-awful o’clock to be home with his daughter. On one hand he appreciated her concern and her efforts to ensure Leila felt she was still priority. On the other, he wanted to be with his girlfriend, his beautiful, generous, sexy girlfriend, as much as possible.

  Commanding her to lift her breasts to him, offer them for him to touch, he wrapped his lips around one pearled nipple while his hands levered her arse against his groin. Heaving out a groan, he buried his face in her chest. It was perfection. Erasing every single bad memory from his living room between Abigail’s thighs, deep within her silky pussy. His hand lifted to cup the back of her skull, her hair soft and tight with curls beneath his fingertips. After the disaster of his marriage, he’d learned the hard way. He couldn’t ever, ever forget to make Abigail happy. To appreciate her. Love her. Every single day. Just like she deserved, or else it wouldn’t be the relationship he wanted them to have. Needed them to have. With age had come wisdom. He knew better now. And thank God he did, as a younger Liam might have passed by the wonder that was Abigail.

  She leaned back, bracing her hands on his knees and rode him, providing him a choice view of their joining, her movements sending jolts over his skin and tugging at his balls.

  Warning her of his impending orgasm, he gripped her hips and pressed his face to her breasts once more.

  Sighing deeply, he leaned back against the sofa and let her fall on top of him. Addicted to the sensation of her skin underneath his fingertips, he continued to let his palms traverse her spine.

  “Relax,” he murmured. “It’s a two-and-a-half-hour film which started half an hour ago.”

  “I can’t help it.” She laughed, bracing her hands on his shoulders. “You make me do naughty things, I think I’m going to be caught out.”

  “You dared me,” he reminded her, lifting her from his lap and setting her gently on the sofa. Getting to his feet, he disposed of the second condom in the kitchen bin and collected the wine from the freezer. It looked as if it’d been in there too long. Alcoholic slushie for them both.

  Returning to the living room, he saw Abigail was stretched out, resting her head on a propped-up hand. He sat on the floor beside her and handed her the wine slush then poured one for himself. Lips frozen from the liquid, he pressed his mouth to her stomach and touched his glass to hers.

  Abigail trailed her fingers through his hair every so often, her wine glass in the other hand. For a moment he realised he was practically purring under her touch. “Do you like this house?” he asked.

  “It’s lovely,” she answered.

  “I want to move.”

  Abigail’s hand paused in his hair. “Where? Any further and it’ll be difficult for Leila to get to school and her friends. And me.”

  He turned his head to look at her. “I wouldn’t want us to be far from you. It’s just... This house holds a lot of bad vibes. For me and Leila. No major decisions without you.”

  She resumed her strokes in his hair. “Have a house exorcism,” she suggested. “Get the mothers to come over with some holy water and you’ll be right. It’s a great home. Don’t let the past run you out of it.”

  “It’s not just about me,” he reminded her. “I’m thinking about our future. Would you even want to live here?”

  She sat up and he turned to gaze at her. “Abi?” He put down on the glass and took hers away. Sitting down next to her, he caught her cheek in his palm. “Abigail,” he repeated. “Listen, I don’t mean right now this minute.”

  She breathed out slowly. “Oh. Right. I don’t think waiting would be bad. We’ve been together at a really fraught time in your life.”

  “Don’t do that,” he warned her. “Don’t define us by the crap package Sarah left for us.” Lifting his other hand, he framed her face. “Despite our mothers pushing
for the same, you and I got here alone. I know I threw a curveball by telling you I love you, but it’s the absolute truth. And it has nothing to do with my past.” He was almost insulted by the suggestion. He’d gone to the café almost three long months ago not only to apologise, but in the hope of seeing Abigail’s face in softness, in amusement rather than the anger and disappointment of their first meeting. Recognising that she wasn’t just the woman his mother was so desperate for him to meet but the antithesis of everything Sarah was and ever had been made for simple logic. Wanting to talk to her had been natural. Everything else that flowed from that night was as simple as breathing. He’d wait for her as long as she needed.

  She leaned in to kiss him. “I’m sorry. It’s not what I meant. You’re just... I know you’ve thought about it before even saying anything to me, but it comes over as impulsive. There’s no rush. We’re doing fine as we are.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Sleeping between two households?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Nothing I didn’t do at university.”

  He tutted. “I’m too old for that shit.” It teased a laugh from her. “Just think about how simpler it would be if we were in the same house.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Is this because my house is more organised?”

  Tugging her prostrate on the sofa, he settled himself between her legs. “Miss Yeboah, where did you get your manners?”

  Distracting her with kisses seemed the best method. She wasn’t ready for what he wanted. But he was convinced it would only be a matter of time.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Leila’s excitement for her birthday party shone in her eyes. The red-tinted glitter Liam had allowed Abigail to spray in his daughter’s hair glowed in the lights of The Library. Abigail had dyed her own crop a deep shade of red, and in the mini spa area that was set up for the girls attending, two beauticians were ready to spray-paint the guests’ hair. Everyone was being turned into a McNamara for the night. Gift bags were placed at the counter, out of reach. Leila had picked everything, without Liam raising the slightest brow at the expense. Together with Abigail, they packaged twenty bags, one for each of Leila’s classmates, filled with Topshop bracelets, bubble bath, glitter pens, notepads, and a customised nail varnish with Leila’s name and birthday on it. Abigail picked out everything and Liam handed over his card without a second thought.

  Abigail had her own gift ready for Leila. She hoped Leila liked it. It was something small just to remind her that no one was taking Sarah’s place. Especially not her. Even if she had thrown herself wholly into the party preparations and invited her friends to encourage the adults to stay. The entire second floor was space for the parents to relax, enjoy a hand massage if they so desired and moreover, have a lot of cake.

  “Is this too much?” Liam asked on a murmur, handing Abigail a virgin cocktail. It was much nicer than the blue horror Leila had been obsessed with in Cornwall.

  She touched her lips to his cheek. “For a girl? No.”

  “It is,” he disagreed, looking around at the girls who were squealing over the buffet and enjoying their own mocktails. “Now what the hell will I do next year?”

  With a laugh, she edged him upstairs. “Go and be nice. The other parents seem to be having a good time, so join them. Have something to eat, you’ve been stressing all day. I’ll keep an eye on the girls.”

  Catching her hand and squeezing it, he wandered upstairs to be sociable with the parents. Abigail perched on the nearest stool and sipped at her drink, watching Leila and her classmates singing along to Justin Bieber and dancing with their drinks. Frowning, Abigail thought she was glimpsing into their future. Just no dirty boys please, she thought.

  The door opened and Rebecca Dalbury-Scott and her parents breezed into The Library. Getting off her stool, Abigail forced a smile on her face to greet them. She still suspected Rebecca was the brains behind the egging, but Blondie and her mother were too busy taking in the transformed Library.

  “Hello, Abigail,” Rebecca beamed.

  No you don’t, you little cow. “It’s Miss Yeboah,” Abigail corrected gently. Rebecca’s eyes widened and she looked to her mother for direction.

  “My dear, Becca doesn’t call any of our friends by their surnames. It’s too formal.”

  Abigail blinked. “Rebecca, you and I don’t know each other. Until we do, it’s polite to call people by their surnames. You wouldn’t want people to think you’re rude, would you?”

  The silence that followed was most telling and Abigail stood and enjoyed it. Ted Dalbury-Scott edged past his wife and held out his hand to her. “Nice to finally meet you,” he said. The man was rather jolly looking. Shame he was married to an icicle. “This café is a work of art.”

  And now he was her best friend. “Thank you. And thank you for the licence, it’s made the world of difference.”

  “Licence?” his wife enquired silkily.

  Rebecca bounced on the balls of her feet. “Can I go? Now?”

  The tone of Rebecca’s voice would have raised Abigail’s hand for a short, sharp slap, but her mother cooed at her. “Sorry, darling. Off you go.”

  Rebecca glanced at Abigail first. Abigail let the girl wait a good minute before she answered. “Leila’s been waiting for you. Help yourself to food and drink and whatever you like on the playlist.”

  “Thank you. Miss Yeboah.”

  Better. “You’re welcome.”

  As their daughter disappeared, Abigail offered the Dalbury-Scotts a drink. “A little irresponsible serving alcohol with children about,” Mrs. Dalbury-Scott sniffed.

  Abigail smirked, “None tonight. Just some lovely mocktails. Try the McNamara. It’s lychee, coconut and lime.”

  “That sounds delightful,” Ted’s exclamation was music to her ears. “I am a bit peckish. Tamara and I were going to have a spot to eat, but if you’re serving that chocolate cake...”

  “Always,” she assured him. Ted headed for the buffet, dancing his way through the girls to get to the table of food. Abigail glanced at Tamara. “Not hungry?”

  “I don’t see any salad.”

  “Greek, goats cheese, chicken or couscous?” Abigail asked.

  Tamara’s mouth tightened. “That’s quite a selection.”

  “Yes, that’s for the adult table. Upstairs. Thought it could be a nice night for the parents to enjoy themselves as well.”

  Tamara picked a fluff from her rich woollen coat. “How thoughtful of you. Do you have somewhere for my coat?”

  Abigail nodded to the coat rack by the door. “Just behind you.”

  “Where someone could steal?” she replied, horror in her tone.

  “It’s not really anyone’s style,” Abigail murmured, picking up her drink again. Tamara removed the coat from her small frame and eased it over her arm. “Liam’s upstairs,” Abigail said pointedly. “He’ll get you a drink and some salad as well.”

  Ted turned around and waved at them both, his mouth full with a mini-burger. Tamara’s lip curled in disgust before she turned back to Abigail. Jesus, bitch, fuck off.

  “How is poor Liam doing?”

  “He’s doing me,” Abigail retorted.

  Tamara was determined to play her game, it seemed. “Apart from that. He and his wife were together for a very long time.”

  “Marriages do end,” Abigail said. “One way or another.”

  “They’re hardly fleeting relationships. He loved her to bits. And just think how daunting this must be for you. A widower, his difficult daughter.” Abigail felt her eye twitching with anger as Tamara continued. “She’s only difficult because she is motherless, poor darling.”

  Temper lost. “For your information, she isn’t motherless. She has me.” Recognising how possessive she sounded, she added, “And her grandparents.”

  Finally realising she’d hit a nerve, Tamara pursed her lips. “Well. I wish you the best luck. Teenage girls are a nightmare all on their own.”

  “Good thing Leila’s like a drea
m.” Abigail forced a big smile on her face and cut past the woman to engage the girls into getting their hair spray-painted. Rebecca’s first, she thought.

  ***

  Liam finished the last of the seaweed-wrapped rice and drained his drink. The parents of his daughter’s class were, just as Abigail had predicted, visibly relaxed. They’d eaten exceptional food, their children were being entertained and the rest were enjoying the talented hands of therapists. Leila’s face when she’d walked into The Library to see how it had been transformed for her was reward in itself. He just would have to ignore his bank balance for the next month and dip into savings. That Abigail had closed the café exclusively for Leila and refused to accept a hire fee from him amazed him each time he thought about it. She was a businesswoman first. He hoped the café would become a venue for hire. It meant working on Ted to ease through a late licence and with pictures from tonight, he’d happily allow Abigail to use on her site, there should be plenty of profit for her in private parties.

  He was so proud of the women in his life, more so Abigail for strolling through his crazy situation with calm, with sense and with love. She hadn’t said it. She didn’t need to. Everything she did, for him, for his daughter, told him exactly how much she cared. After everything, to be with someone like her... Fortune favoured the McNamara.

  A screech rendered the air, shocking all the guests from their reverie and Liam quickly scooted downstairs. Uh oh... He came to a skidding halt when he saw Abigail holding a can of hair dye spray, Tamara Dalbury-Scott with red streaks on her coat, her face and blonde hair. Rebecca’s hair was clown-wig red and the girl couldn’t have looked more pleased.

  “The fuck is wrong with you?” Tamara screamed.

  The parents made their way downstairs, intermittently amused and annoyed by Tamara’s behaviour. “Don’t use words like that in front of my child,” one warned.