His phone beeps on the table behind me, bringing me back to my dishwasher loading. I giggle at my wandering thoughts and switch the machine on to dispose of the Brie and chutney with bubble and squeak creation that I somehow dreamt up for lunch. Several more vibrations and beeps come rattling at me from the power house that is Alex’s phone, so I go over and grab it up in case it’s important and he needs it. I have every intention of taking it out to him, but it’s been so nice without him having it permanently attached to his hand and ear. Maybe I should just take a look and see how important it is. I mean, if it’s not life threatening then it won’t hurt for him to keep wandering around with Mum and Dad, will it? Just being a normal human for a change and spending time with other normal, caring humans. That’s pretty important to him, right?
My fingers swipe across the screen before I’ve thought about it too much. I immediately see what appears to be several hundred emails, nearly as many missed calls and a few messages. I haven’t got a clue what’s important and what’s not, but I’m betting life threatening stuff doesn’t come via email so I switch to the messages to see what’s afoot, if anything. PVDB is the first one. It doesn’t take a genius to work that one out, and for some reason, I feel completely comfortable opening it and reading it.
- Do I now need your permission to kill my brother? It may liven Christmas up, no?
That’s it? I don’t know why but I expected more from him, some sort of sentiment attached maybe, or a love heart. I run my fingers across the words and look back out to the garden to gaze at Alex while remembering the kiss Pascal gave me. He’s Pascal’s, too now. Will he give Pascal what he needs from him? Does he want to? I think I want him to. Well, I want him to do what he feels he needs to do. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Us all gaining some sort of bond together. It’s still not clear, though, and I can’t quite get my head around any of it, but I’m sure I will in time, as long as he’s truthful with me about it.
He starts back towards the house with Mum hanging onto him, and I watch the vision of them together. Mum’s beaming at something he’s said, probably a joke of some sort. He’s been doing that the whole time they’ve been here, trying to do anything to keep her smiling. I don’t know whether that’s because of the cancer or because he just wants them to like him for me, but either way, he looks genuinely happy doing it. As if he’s found a family he can try to be normal with, honest with. I hit the next message and see some numbers, nothing else. It’s not a phone number – more likely a code or something from MJ. I have no idea who that is but I can’t see that a code is life threatening either so move on again. The last one has no name attached, and as I read the text, my hand slaps over my mouth, because that can’t possibly be right.
- Happy Christmas, son.
It must be a joke, but who the fuck would joke about something like that? My flustered brain goes into meltdown mode. Do I show him this? I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t even be checking his messages, given my don’t ever look at my phone spiel when we first met. But I was doing it so that he could relax and just have a bit more time, wasn’t I? Just like he said he was for me at the time. Whatever. I haven’t got time to be concerned about whether I should have done this or not. I’ve done it, and now I need to work out what I should do about the message. My eyes flick over to see them coming up onto the terrace at the far end. I could delete it, couldn’t I? Yes, then he would never know, and that bastard, if this is real, will never get to interfere with Alex’s life again. Yes, good plan. My finger hovers over the delete button. Oh, but what if Alex wants to see him? What if he really needs to in order to be able to move on? Hiding this message from him would make that worse, wouldn’t it? I flick my eyes up again. I’ve got about fifteen seconds before they’re at the door. Delete, not delete. Hover, panic, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh shitty balls, what should I do? I don’t have any right to do anything. It’s not my business, is it? Yes, it is though. He’s mine, and I want him happy and able to forget all the shit in his past. Oh my god, I can hear their voices now, see his smile as he puts his arm around my mum and chats to Dad, completely oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend is scheming behind his back. Stupid, Beth. I so shouldn’t have done this. What the fuck was I thinking? Oh fuck. Think, think, think. Bollocks. I launch the phone at the table as if it’s bitten me and watch the screen dull as he catches my eye and winks at me. He hasn’t noticed. Good. I blow out a breath and spin back to the sink. Perhaps some sodding fairies can help me out of this when he does eventually read the message. Oh god, what’s he going to do? All this lovely Christmas stuff is just going to disappear and be broken and ruined by Mr. Wanker Adlin. I briefly wonder if I need permission to kill someone, too. I could so kill that bastard. I could do that. I could take his heart and rip it out of his useless body then throw it to dogs so they could savage it and swallow it whole. Bury the fucking man in the dirt and watch his corpse rot in hell for the disgusting way he treated his child.
The door handle clicks behind me as their jovial voices come singing in. Mum’s laughing again and Alex is talking about petunias. What the hell does he know about petunias? Other than he might need to take some to the funeral of his bastard shitface Father, as and when I get round to killing the fucker. What a knob. How dare he try to mess up my man’s head again? Who the hell does he think he is with his nasty manoeuvres? Trying to break my man again… It’s not fucking happening, not when I’ve just got him, just broken through and forged a path in. He’ll close down on me. I know it, and it’s not happening. I need that phone again. I need to delete that message and then none of this will ever have happened, will it? Plan. I need a plan to get the phone off of him and stop him touching it until I can. Sex. Sex is always good. It’s a great distraction technique for Alex. Not with my mum and dad standing next to us, though. That could prove tricky to say the least.
“Coffee anyone?” he says, as he wraps his arms around my waist and kisses the back of my neck. “You smell of sin and my come,” he whispers in my ear. I’m not sure I like smelling of come when my mother is ten feet from me, though. Sin is fine. Sin hasn’t got a smell. Actually, it has. It smells like his suite in Rome, and his bedroom, and the study, and his hands – they definitely smell of sin – and anywhere that Pascal happens to be. Yes, sin has definitely got a smell. It’s mostly called Alex. I smile at the thought and watch him fill the coffee machine up.
I need that phone.
“We’re going to start packing up, Bethy,” Mum says to me as she heads out of the room, followed by Dad. I flick my eyes to the phone. I could get it now. My feet start to move but I’m hauled backwards and lifted up onto the work surface.
“I’ve decided I don’t like you in trousers,” he says, spreading my legs apart and wedging himself in between them. It’s a fair point. I’m not entirely sure I do anymore either. They do get in the way somewhat. “Let’s make that a rule, shall we? No trousers.”
“Ever?”
“Ever,” he replies, trying to get his hand into the top of my suede trousers. Soft lips land on mine and he delivers one of his heart-warming kisses. The ones that remind me of the boy inside him, and the man I love. A warm, kind mouth lavishes me with a generous tongue and delicate promises of more, of cuddles and log fires maybe. My fingers run through his black hair and pull him closer to me, as close as I can get him, because these are the moments where I feel him most, where I can forget the man who hung me over a chandelier and fucked my throat till I couldn’t breathe. I can just feel the Alex who needs me to love him, deeply, and let him know that anything he does won’t stop me loving him tomorrow, that he can just be. He slowly draws back and smiles, an overwhelming smile that reminds me of all the happiness and fun in him. He’s enjoying his Christmas. He’s comfortable, relaxed. I so need that fucking phone.
“And where exactly is your very expensive Christmas present?” Maybe if he goes upstairs to get it, I can grab the phone.
“Upstairs. I took it off to shower. It’s hardly
my fault your mother stormed into our bedroom and dragged me out. Does she know nothing of privacy?” No, she’s not known for it to be fair.
“Well, I didn’t buy it so you could not wear it.”
“Fair point, and I wouldn’t want to piss you off, would I? My cock’s painful enough this morning,” he says as he lets go of me and wanders out of the room. Good, I’m glad it hurts. My arse isn’t feeling so hot either, although it was possibly one of the hottest things I’ve ever done in my life.
My sore arse pushes off the table the moment I hear his footsteps disappear and I swipe the phone up. My finger hovers again. Should I really do this? What if’s fly through my mind. What if he finds out? What if it’s happened before and he’s expecting it? What if it is a joke and he wants to find out who it is? Maybe they’re threatening his company or something. This is so wrong of me. I shouldn’t do it, or maybe I should. For fuck’s sake. I wish I could make a bloody decision on this. I’m being ridiculous. I just need to do it and then I won’t have to worry about it anymore. My feisty Beth should know how to deal with this, and she’s not helping me in the slightest. What would Pascal do? He’d do what was best for Alex, wouldn’t he? But what is that? Delete it. Yes, just sodding delete it. Decision made. Fuck it. What have I got to lose? Apart from Alex, that is.
“Why are you looking at my phone, Elizabeth?” Shit, shit, shit. My body freezes as confused Beth tries to find an excuse. There isn’t one rapidly springing to mind so I keep looking away from him and wonder if I can sway my arse or something to distract him. “Do not fucking lie to me.”
Perhaps not. Balls.
“I, umm...” Funnily enough, that’s all that comes out of my mouth. I really need to learn to lie to him, or divert him better.
“Turn around, and be honest.” I pull in a breath and turn slowly to find those piercing eyes in full irritated mode, a slight raise of his brow as he searches for some reason why I would be sneaking around behind his back.
“I just... I was trying to keep you safe.” What a stupid thing to say. Why the hell did that come out of my mouth? His brow rises even higher. I’m not surprised. Me, trying to keep a murdering sadist safe must be mystifying to him.
“How, exactly?” Honesty, that’s what I demand of him, isn’t it? Idiot, Beth.
“You have some messages, but I just wanted to keep you to myself a bit longer, let you enjoy Christmas for a while more before you had to... And I didn’t know if you should see this one or not. I just wanted to protect you from it. I didn’t mean to be deceptive. I just wanted to keep you from hurting if it really is from...” My rambling knows no bounds, it seems, and I can’t even bring myself to say the word Dad in front of him. My eyes find the floor in their normal fashion as I try to find the right words to show him that this is because I love him so much, because I want him calm and happy. His hands are in his pockets and I stare at the simple Jaquet Droz watch on his wrist that I bought for him, his present from me. Uncomplicated, simple, and elegant. It was my way of trying to show him how I want him to relax and not worry about all the complex stuff in life, just be as he needs to be.
“Head up.” I draw my eyes up to him to see a now emotionless face staring back at me, features all hardening as his walls go up around him. “Better. Now say it more concisely.”
“I think it’s from your father.” There’s not a flicker of recognition. Not one hint of emotion or sensation changes his face. It’s stone, like a mask of concealment. “One of the messages, I think, well, I think your father sent you a message,” I say as I hold the phone out to him. He doesn’t even look at it, just keeps staring into my eyes, very nearly killing me with the intensity of those blues. His frame remains stock still as I try to hold his gaze and show him I’m sorry for lying.
He suddenly turns without a word and walks away from me, and his phone. I have no idea what that means, so I watch his body turn into the study and slam the door behind him. What the hell do I do now? Is he in pain? Does he need me? No. He would have stayed if he wanted me. Actually, is he angry with me or his father? Oh god, what am I going to do?
“Bethy, darling?” Mum’s voice calls from the hall. I swipe away the tears that have welled up and shake my face back into happy. They’re leaving soon. I just need to make it through the next twenty minutes or so.
“In here, Mum,” I shout back to her. She comes tripping into the kitchen as we both hear something come crashing down the stairs. I glance around her to see a suitcase roll onto the floor from the staircase, hotly pursued by Dad, thankfully not falling, too.
“When are you coming over to see us again?” she asks. I don’t even know how today is going to pan out, let alone when we’ll be going to see them again.
“As soon as we can, I promise,” I reply as I help her on with her coat. She snatches my hand up in hers and stares at my ring. It really is utterly breathtaking. I’ve been staring at it in most of my spare time, too.
“You’ll both make such wonderful parents,” she says quietly. “He’s so good for you, Bethy. Don’t let him get away from you. Your father may be an intolerable fool sometimes, but a good man is worth every grain of sand on the beach. And he loves you so much, honey. I can see it in the way he watches you. He comes to life around you.” I smile weakly at her in reply and swallow the tears that are forming again. She has no idea at all how difficult my good man is.
“Okay, Di, are you ready?” Dad asks as he comes in behind us and wraps us both up in a hug. “Where’s Alex?”
“Oh, sorry. He got a really important call and he’s had to go and do some work. He told me to give you both a hug and that he’d see you soon.” What utter bollocks, but what on earth else can I say? There’s no way on earth he’ll be out of that study for at least another hour. He’ll be too busy brooding, breaking things or planning something despicable.
“Oh, never mind,” Mum replies. “I suppose that’s the life of the wealthy, though. Business never stops, does it?”
“No.” Oh god, please just leave so I can deal with whatever’s going on in the study. I urge them towards the hall as delicately as I can and keep talking all the way to the door in case Alex is actually destroying something in his office.
“Well, you both look after yourselves, wont you? You’ll have to tell me all about this party you’re going to in Berlin. Berlin, Alan? Our Bethy off to a posh do in Berlin, wonderful, isn’t it?” If only they knew. I open the door for them and smile, nodding at the appropriate moments and throwing in a giggle at Mum’s exuberance to show them how wonderful everything is. “And of course, say hello to Henry and Sarah for us, will you? It really would be lovely to see them again at some point.” Oh yes, the really comfortable situation surrounding the other ball… Great. She wraps me up in another one of her mum hugs and then rubs both her hands along my arms. “Well done, Bethy. Look at you all grown up and happy. I’m so very proud of you. You know that, don’t you? Good business, fantastic new man, marriage on the horizon.”
“Thanks, Mum,” I mumble. I have no idea how well I’ve done, and I certainly know nothing of marriages on the horizon at the moment. I’m not even sure if he’s going to speak to me. Dad narrows his eyes at me over her shoulder so I throw him my brightest smile and walk them to the car. Perhaps that will speed up their disappearance.
Finally, after another ten minutes of hugging and telling me how grown up I am and how I’ve found such a wonderful man for myself, I watch their car go out of the top gates in a flurry of gravel. Dad appears to have been revved up by the garage. I watch the dust until it settles and then quietly turn back to face whatever’s going on inside. “Merry Christmas,” I mumble under my breath to myself as I reach the steps to the portico and glance back at the gates. I could have so easily gone with them instead of having to deal with yet another Alex problem.
I reach for the door handle, but it opens for me instead, and there he stands, the master of his castle. I fold my arms around myself to protect my heart from whatever might
leave his mouth and gaze up at him.
“I didn’t say goodbye,” he says quietly with a frown as he watches me watching him. I keep my eyes fixed on his and wait for more. We might as well get it out of the way so I can make up my mind whether to just turn around and walk myself up the drive or not. “You look scared, Elizabeth.”
I am – not physically, but emotionally I’m a fucking mess again, so I decide to be brutally honest.
“I am.” He smiles a little and offers me his hand, so I gaze at that instead and wonder how he feels about things. “You’re not mad?”
“Not at you, no.” Oh, good. My beam of delight is slightly withheld as I look back up at him and take hold of his fingers. He chuckles and yanks me up to him. “Although, I need some help for a while, and you can certainly do that.”
“Okay.” I’ll do anything to rid him of whatever he needs to get rid of. As long as we’re back on solid ground again, I’ll give him anything he needs. Anything. I know that now. He walks us backwards, closes the door, and then, quite surprisingly, lets go of me and heads back to the kitchen.
“Put some logs on the fire. I’ll get us some coffee,” he calls back to me. Coffee? What the hell is he going to do that involves coffee? Having said that, there’s a teaspoon involved in coffee drinking, isn’t there?
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