Coming Around Again

by Billy London

  “Stella, right?”

  She turned to find the owner of the voice and was pleasantly surprised. For a long time, she thought it’d be impossible to find another man remotely attractive compared to the Dane, and yet in front of her was his polar opposite. Shorter and stockier than Niels, the man had chocolate brown eyes and dark hair that gave hints of red whenever he moved into the dull autumn sunlight.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “I’m Alec, Philip’s dad.”

  “Oh, right, yes, hi.” Another divorcee free from the chains of marriage. To be truthful, little Philip’s dad—or McTasty, as he was known in the school run circles—made for a good boost in the old ego stakes. He rarely made the effort to talk to anyone, let alone any of the vultures that meandered around him since he separated from his wife. “How’s things?”

  “Good; well, as good as to be expected. How are you?”

  Stella’s eyebrows angled in mistrust. “What can I help you with?”

  “Are you always so suspicious?” he said with a laugh.

  Pretty much, she thought, going on her tiptoes to look for the boys. “People normally only ever talk to me outside the school gates when they want to either borrow something or have me contribute to something. So…”

  “Okay, okay.” He held up calloused hands in defeat. “You did the makeup for the play a few months ago.”

  “Worst decision ever,” she conceded. “All that hard work, no reward.”

  “And it’s Philip’s birthday coming up.”

  “Here we go.”

  “I just wanted to borrow your expertise. We’re having a zombie party.”

  Stella bit on her bottom lip. “Who’s we?”

  “Me and Philip. It’s his idea. I stupidly let him watch Shawn of the Dead and he’s become obsessed with it. I had to stop him from watching The Walking Dead three times now, I’ve caught him out.”

  “This is all very nice but I can’t…”

  “You made a bunch of nine-year-olds look like lepers for that Joan of Arc thingamajig. It was amazing. I showed a few pictures to some friends and they asked if you work in film. So I know full well, Stella. You can do zombies.”

  Compliment. Compliment and compliment. Sold. She folded her arms and made an apologetic face, as if she were about to refuse, but Alec leapt in. “If you wouldn’t mind. I mean I’d pay for your time. And provide all the makeup for you to do over the kids.”

  “You know how much effort this will take?”

  Alec gave a helpless shrug. “Philip’s put up with a lot the past year. I just want to make this birthday fun for him.”

  “Is his mother coming?”

  His face turned cold briefly. “She’s on assignment. Modelling in New York. We’re going to Skype her when we cut the cake.”

  Of course he married a model. All that Celtic lyricism had to appeal to the higher echelons of beauty in his vicinity. “That’ll be nice.”

  “You know Will and Danny are Philip’s favourite people on earth, right?”

  She had no idea, since McTasty only ever really talked to Niels. The twins had so many friends, it was hard to keep track of all of them. “That’s sweet. And Philip…” What was little Philip like? What did she call him to remind herself who he was? “Short Stockings is a lovely boy.”

  Oh crap, she said that out loud. “What now?”

  “Oh dear.”

  “You call my son Short Stockings?”

  “I have a hard time remembering names, so everyone gets a nickname and he’s so small and cute and red-headed, so of course I’m going to call him a variation of Pippi Longstocking.”

  Alec stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing, making all the female vultures around them narrow their eyes in distaste and evident jealousy. “That is genius. I wish you hadn’t told me; now I’ll end up calling him that.”

  Stella winced. “Well. I said I’ve got a shocking memory.”

  “Really? Then what do you call me?”

  Nah, son, not falling for that one. “Hi, my darlings!” Stella had never been more grateful to see her children. They glanced at each other on seeing their mother’s overly enthusiastic reaction.

  “We didn’t do anything,” Will ventured first. He received a kiss for his troubles. Danny fended her off and demanded. “Did Mr Croft invite you to Short’s birthday?”

  Stella risked a glance to Alec, who looked even more amused. “To help you lot look hideous, yes.”

  “That’s Dad’s week, though,” Will interjected with practicality.

  “He won’t say no.” Danny glanced at Alec. “Is it all right if my dad comes? He won’t stay, it’ll be just to pick me and my brother up. And he won’t fight with Mum. Not anymore. They promised.”

  “Daniel Strøm why are you putting our business on the street?” Stella asked crossly.

  “Not to worry, Stella. We’re all in the same boat here. Give me your mobile and we’ll sort out a zombie trial.”

  He handed over his phone and she tapped her number into the contacts before handing it back.

  “Danny, your dad and I have already spoken. He’s picking you guys up.”

  “Told you!” Danny declared, shoving his brother in the shoulder.

  “Well, that’s coordinated.”

  Alec tucked his phone away. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Niels and I are good. We can behave in public, despite what my terrible children claim!”

  “What? Muma, we’re the best children you could hope for.” Will said solemnly before laughing with his brother.

  “And with that endorsement…”

  Alec held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, finally. And properly.”

  She gave his hand a brisk shake in return and hustled the boys to the car.

  “You know you can’t go out with him, don’t you?” Danny stated as he buckled himself into the back seat.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You can’t go out with our friend’s dad. It’s disgusting!”

  “Daniel, I swear if you don’t shut up, you’re going to be wishing for a different mother.”

  “Nah. We like you.”

  Disgraceful, she thought putting the car into gear. How dare her children censor her love life—severely lacking as it was. She couldn’t survive on the teasing text messages from Niels. He’d clearly moved on with that blonde piece from the restaurant. It was only fair she do the same.

  ***

  Seven Years Married

  “Muma, I’m bored!” Danny announced in the middle of the vow exchange, in London’s most echoing church and every single member of Stella’s family, extended and blood, turned to look at her and her sons. Swallowing, she sent her mother and her aunt an apologetic smile. Big family weddings had been blissfully absent from the Strøm lifestyle, until her first cousin decided to get married and invite everyone. Stella supposed it stemmed from her cousin’s determination to rub her relationship success after so many, many failures, in the family face.

  Niels was due back from a job stateside. While she was impressed by the international aspect of his business, it made for embarrassing and repeated excuses. It seemed to be a trait on her mother’s side for being utterly smug.

  “Clearly missing a male influence,” her aunt sniffed, sending the twins a look of disgust.

  “Auntie, why is your hair falling to the side?” Will asked, face open with honest curiosity. Stella barely bit back a snort of laughter.

  “Shh!” the older woman hissed at all three of them and with another glare, turned back to face her daughter. As soon as she straightened her wig, the boys howled with laughter, causing the vicar to raise his voice over the sound.

  “Stella!” her cousin fumed.

  With another apologetic smile, Stella urged the twins up and outside to the church grounds. Danny removed his suit jacket and twirled it in the air.

  “Freedom!” he bellowed. “Muma, where’s Daddy?”

  “Shush a minute and let me
call your father.” Stella pressed her mobile to her ear, tapping her foot and muttering impatiently under her breath. Hurry up!

  “This is Niels Strøm. I am unable to take your call. Please leave a message.”

  “You son of a b-i-t-c-h, where the h-e-double-ll are you? Call me!”

  Danny eyed her as she tucked her phone back into her bag and ran a calming hand over her temples. “Muma, why are you swearing at my Dad?”

  She stared down at him. “For your information, Daniel Strøm, I am not swearing. He may well be your father, but he’s my husband, and my husband is none of your business.”

  Danny pouted. “All right. Don’t know why you’re angry with me.”

  She sighed. It wasn’t his fault at all. He was just the convenient scapegoat for her righteous anger, since his father had other things to do. Again. What she couldn’t stand was the muttering, the whispers, the assumption that Stella the Overachiever had somehow failed in her relationship. What else could she have done, other than tattooing how important today was on her husband’s perineum? Where the fuck was he?

  Will caught her dress in his fist and whispered, “Can we get some food, please? Breakfast was ages ago.”

  Knowing the wedding would run on Coloured People Time, Stella had packed sandwiches, mini-cupcakes and juice boxes for the boys. “Let’s have a picnic, my darlings,” she suggested, pointing to the patch of grass in the centre of the church’s cemetery.

  Danny balked instantly. “I’m not eating on dead people.”

  His mother shrugged. “Then stay hungry.” She caught Will’s hand and made her way to the patch, then placed her bag down, draping her silver pashmina over the soil so she could perch. Will sat cross-legged opposite her, his face expectant. As soon as she handed over the ham, cheese, and pickle sandwich to her youngest son, Danny came barrelling over and stood by her side, hands on his hips.

  “Yes, child?” she asked, a smile twitching at her lips. He looked so severe, a miniature Niels. It felt like only yesterday he was jostling for space in her tummy.

  “What you got?”

  “Speak properly.”

  “Muma, what sandwiches do you have in your bag that Daddy bought you because you were cross the other day?”

  “Sit down,” she said, instead of slapping him for rudeness. “Pain in the bum.”

  “Do you have any tuna?”

  “I do, because I know that’s your favourite.”

  “With pickles?”

  “And mayonnaise, yes.”

  “Best Muma ever,” he said on a worshipful sigh, taking the Tupperware from her and wolfing the bread down. “Are those chocolates?” he asked, mouth full of tuna.

  “Those are for me,” she said as she attempted sternness. Today was supposed to be a nice day. No such luck.

  “Is Daddy always going to miss things?” Will asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  Her youngest son exchanged looks with his brother before venturing, “Well… He missed this. And it’s our birthday next month. Will he be away, do you think?”

  Lie. “Your Dad loves you. He would never ever miss such an important day, for anything. Ever. Don’t worry about that, all right?”

  Her son lowered his gaze with a nod, and continued eating. Danny reached into her bag for her chocolates and she slapped his hand away. “Don’t go into my bag. You know that.”

  He sent her an irreverent grin and sat back down. Eventually she handed him a chocolate. That face. Trouble. Just like his sire.

  By the time they finished eating, the couple exited the church, looking more grim than they had when they entered. Such a difference from Stella and Niels on their wedding day. Happiness radiated from them, even through photographs. In every single one, they only had eyes for each other. Now he couldn’t even manage a family gathering.

  During the three-hour wait between the ceremony and food, Stella and the boys nibbled at the remaining goods in her Mulberry bag, indeed a gift from Niels for missing the last event she needed him to turn up for. The intake of sugar only made the boys restless and unruly. Stella simply let them loose. She had no desire to tame them. For what? Let their father tell them off.

  Minutes into the Cousin of the Bride speech, the dullest speech known to God and man, Danny and Will began heckling the speaker, asking where the cake was and why it was taking so long to eat. As other tables were allowed up to take food, music was played and the boys took it upon themselves to be the entertainment, dancing on their chairs and Danny, Michael Jackson-style, flipped his jacket back and yelled, “Party!”

  Stella busied herself by calling her husband and met with his answering machine every single time. Her mother came to their table and pulled the boys down.

  “Why are your children embarrassing everyone?”

  She shrugged. “They’re bored. So am I. They’re clever little things and all this dullness is just making them antsy.”

  “Well, maybe you should take them home.”

  “Probably.”

  Her mother stared at her for a moment, mouth turned down at the corners with distaste. “Where’s your husband?”

  “Somewhere over the Atlantic,” she guessed.

  Her mother’s mouth pulled down further. “Are you two all right? I hardly see him.”

  “He’s working very hard.” She trotted out her standard line.

  “Isn’t he always? I mean, we had the blessing for your cousin’s newborn last month.”

  “So?”

  “So, Stella, you didn’t come.”

  For God’s sake. “Look, Niels and I seem like we have a lot, but it’s because we work. Both of us. Incredibly hard. I don’t know where you or the rest of your side of the family gets the idea from that all I do is swan around in The White Company goods with a team of servants, I do not. I cannot drop everything for every small little thing that happens.”

  Judith pursed her lips. “We are your family,” she said eventually. “That is why you should. You know better than anyone that husbands are rarely for life.” Your husbands, Stella wanted to add rudely, but it would certainly fall on deaf ears. “And when you do remember that, you’ll know that we’ll be here to support you.”

  They would not. Her mother’s side of the family were gloaters. Schadenfreude was their game, and God, they were good at it.

  Stella gave a muted smile and got to her feet. The boys saw her before she called, “Strøm!” They quieted and stood patiently on either side of her. “We’re going. And we’re getting pizza,” she added maliciously. Her sons cheered and swooped out of the hall, jackets flying like banners over their heads.

  Once home, she asked them to change and hang their nice suits in their wardrobe, ready for dry cleaning on Tuesday, with the rest of the load that went weekly. They ordered pizza, cleaned up, and were in bed by a quite reasonable eleven p.m. for a Saturday night.

  Stella sat up. Frustrated. Worried. Annoyed. Disappointed. She went to bed and tried to sleep. But post-orgasmic Stella always slept better than annoyed Stella. So she reached for her battery-operated friend.

  Twenty minutes later, she removed the vibrator from between her thighs, feeling both exhausted and unsatisfied. Where the hell was he? Stifling a sob of irritation, she turned to the side, her body on a muted ebb of need.

  Drifting into a light sleep, her brain turned to disaster. What if he’d been horribly mutilated in a crash? Car? Or even worse, killed in an airplane? She pressed a hand to her chest and sat up, just as the man himself slipped into the bedroom.

  “Have you had a shower?” she demanded, her body a jangle of shock and delight.

  “Yes, wife. I was trying not to wake you.”

  “You should have called me instead. That would’ve been wiser.”

  He held up his phone. “Fried battery and a deep-fried cable. Died halfway over the Atlantic.”

  And she’d recently changed her phone number.

  “When was the last time you checked our answering machine?”


  “No one calls us at home!” she protested, but her voice began to peter out as he lifted the sheets and slid in next to her, drifting a scented wave of deliciousness with him.

  “I called as soon as the flight was delayed by four hours. Then my phone gave up the ghost before I could tell you we were stuck on the tarmac for another three hours while they fixed the baggage door. I called the house phone. I kept calling… You smell like sex,” he said, voice low and rough.

  “I do not.”

  “Yes, you do,” he countered, stroking his hand over her stomach and between her thighs. Her body immediately overreacted at the feather-light touch over swollen lips. “Why are you so wet?”

  “Maybe because you have a hand on…in!” She changed the word the moment his fingers drifted to her drenched pussy and pressed inside.

  “Hmm?”

  “This really is inconvenient. I'm not happy with you,” she grumbled, clenching his shoulders as he drew his digits over her sensitised flesh.

  “Because I missed one family gathering?” He kissed his way from her collarbone to a peaked nipple. She shuddered when his teeth closed over the hard nub and tugged. Arching into him, she forgot her line of interrogation. “I’ll be there for the next one.”

  “Liar,” she gasped. “Don’t make promises you can’t—or won’t—keep.”

  Pushing down his boxer shorts, Niels caught his cock in his hand and dragged the underside over her clit.

  “Name one instance,” he suggested, hypnotising her hips into following each stroke of his cock on her re-energised skin. Sometimes a vibrator was not enough. He bent his head and clamped his mouth around the other nipple.

  “Tell me.” His voice dark with command, Stella lifted her hips in offering. The tip of him slipped inside her, that give of her pussy sending a tremor of anticipation through her.

  “Other than today?”

  “Today was entirely out—” he pressed the head into her, “—of my control. When else?” He withdrew, leaving her desperate for more. She wriggled toward him and he held her still, one hand on her hip. “Tell me when I've broken promises to you.”

  “You didn't come to my salon opening.”

  “Clashed with an unavoidable meeting back home.”