This Love

by Anna Bloom

  “Well, in that case.” He grins at me and plants a soft peck on my cheek before jumping out his side and coming to open mine.

  I practically run up the path but then try and slide my key into the lock as quietly as I can. The door swings open and Danni stands on the threshold, her arms folded. “What time do you call this?”

  “Uh, about nine thirty?” I question.

  “Exactly, what the hell are you doing back? Has the magic gone? You’ve finally come to your senses and worked out that you have nothing in common anymore, or ever?”

  Freddy who has been lurking around the corner, out of sight, steps up to the doorstep a cheeky smile on his beautiful face. “Hi.” He greets her with a small nod of his head.

  “Oh,” says Danni. “Oh, okay then, I’m guessing I need to go.”

  I nod vehemently and start to grab her stuff, thrusting it at her. “Thanks for looking after mum.”

  “Any time.” Danni is enjoying this a little too much, taking her sweet arse time to get out the door. “Make sure you call me first thing, and I do mean first thing.” She gives me a warning look and I know I will have to put in my gossip call early before she just starts making things up.

  “Bye then,” I shout and slam the door shut.

  I start to giggle and hold my finger up to my lips, telling Freddy to keep quiet.

  “Amber?” Mum calls down the stairs. “Is that you?”

  “It’s me, Mum, go back to bed.”

  ‘Have you been out with that boy again?”

  “That’s you,” I mouth at Freddy and he gives a proud nod. “Just a friend, Mum, I’ll see you in the morning.” Then I take Freddy’s hand in mine and pad silently though to the kitchen. Once there, I flick the light switch on and open the fridge.

  “Wine?”

  He looks conflicted.

  ‘What?” I ask.

  “If I have another drink then I won’t be able to drive home.”

  “No pressure,” I say. “You can sleep on the couch if you want.” In one step he is across the room and gathering me in his arms. “I won’t need the couch.” His mouth hungrily searches mine.

  I need that wine and some serious Dutch courage if this is going any further tonight.

  When we have our wine and have put in about fifteen minutes of snogging against the kitchen counter, we make it to the lounge. I settle on the old worn couch and he sits next to me, lifting my legs and placing them across his lap. “So, what do you actually write about, Amber, to be able to afford all this wine?” He motions to the bottle, which is a good one, not just any old crap.

  During dinner I told him about my writing and how I started it as a way to stay at home with Isaac when he was a baby. Again, his eyes flickered but he still didn’t say anything. I know it must frustrate him when he hears about my single parenting endeavors.

  “I write about love. It seems silly saying it out loud.”

  He looks at me in confusion. “Love?”

  I sigh and lean my head back against the cushion. “Yeah. I used to think I was keeping it real, telling people what love was really like, giving them all unhappy endings.”

  His eyes focus on me. “Was that because of me?”

  Chewing my bottom lip, I wonder how to answer before deciding on the truth. “Maybe, a little bit.”

  “I’m sorry. I acted like such an arsehole, I don’t even know why you are sat here with me now, I wouldn’t have forgiven me yet.”

  “Yeah, and I wouldn’t have forgiven me yet, either.”

  Freddy leans in closer, his eyes intent. “Can I ask a question, while we are talking about forgiving?”

  I feel like this is leading somewhere. “Sure.”

  “Did you ever manage to forget about me, Amber?”

  The million-dollar question. Was there ever a day when I managed to forget Freddy Bale?

  “No.”

  He breathes in sharply. “What about when you got married?”

  I couldn’t even forget him on my wedding day — he was all I thought about as I got dressed and drove to the register office. All I could think was how I always thought it would be him. It was my eventual surprise on the day that it wasn’t him, that finally woke me up. Ironic that the day I married someone else was the day when I finally got to grips with the fact I hadn’t left Freddy Bale behind.

  “No.”

  Another intake of breath. His hand smooths up my leg. “I looked for you everyday. I hope you know that. I just wanted to tell you I knew I’d made a mistake, so that even if you didn’t want me, you still knew that I wanted you.”

  I know this now. Just like I know there has never been a day when he couldn’t have walked in and I wouldn’t have wanted him again instantly.

  “So, you still want me now?” I question, my voice squeaking — which doesn’t make it sound as sexy as I was aiming for. I was going more for a tigresses purr and ended with a mouse squeal.

  His eyes glint and his mouth softens into a delicious smile. “Nah, not really.”

  I squirm out from underneath his legs and back away, keeping my eyes on him. “But I had so many things to show you.”

  In a flash he is up of the couch. “What sorts of things?” He prowls towards me.

  “Things,” I squeal even louder and then dash for the door, taking the stairs two at a time.

  He’s faster than me, as he always was. He pins me on the stairs, one sharp ridge digging into my back. I’m not complaining though, because it’s the weight of Freddy’s body that’s pinning me in place, and that can only be good.

  His mouth finds mine, and he’s not holding back, not anymore. Our teeth clash, our tongues entwine, I struggle to draw breath, and not in a I’m—too—busy—swooning way. I mean, I can’t breathe because I can’t pull away. His hand skims down my side, his thumb grazing what I like to fondly call my side boob.

  Okay. This brings me up to the things I need to show him.

  Somehow, and I’m not sure how, I manage to squirm from under his grasp and stand on very wobbly legs. He rolls onto his back on the stairs and lets out a groan.

  “Come on,” I practically beg. Offering him my hand, I lead us to my room. His eyes skim our surroundings and his lips quirk slightly when he sees it’s exactly the same as the last time he was in here. Note to self: Start decorating.

  Softly, he reaches around me and closes the door. Then he has me up against it, his mouth demanding more, his hands exploring further, tugging at the waistband of my jeans, running along my skin. He’s acting like a man whose been offered a feast after starving for days. I know that feeling, the hunger is gnawing deep in my stomach.

  I place my hands on his shoulders and push him gently away. Clarity comes back to him quickly and he gives me a sheepish grin. “Christ, sorry.” He runs his hand along the back of his neck and it’s possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “So you wanted to show me something?” The teasing smile is back.

  “Yeah, I kind of did, and then you may change your mind about this.” I wave my hand around the bedroom and the implication of what could happen in here. Moving from within his grasp, I make some space between us.

  A confused frown develops between his brows. “What on earth are you talking about?” He looks most bemused, especially as I seem to be time wasting. My nerves get stronger and stronger.

  “So, I need to show you this — it’s new.” I jump around and grab my arse in my hands, easily two big handfuls per cheek.

  Silence.

  I turn back around, Freddy is leant against the door, his legs crossed at the ankle, his hair flopping in his face. “Okay,” he replies, his tone hesitant.

  I yank my vest top over my head. “And these.” I grab a generous handful of boob in each hand. “Well, these, they don’t really stay in the right position so much.” I’m about to continue and tell him about my nipples that now look weird all the time thanks to breastfeeding but I manage to rein it in.

  Silence.

  "And these,” I poin
t to the silver stretch marks that run over my stomach like a magic road map. My stomach’s flat but brutally defaced. “These don’t go away, ever.”

  In one wide stride he has me in his arms, carrying me back to my bed. “Shut up.”

  “But wait, I’ve got more things to show you.”

  “Amber?”

  “Yes?”

  “Shut. Up.” His voice is soft and full, and I can feel his lips curving into a smile as he lowers us onto the waiting mattress. “You are so damn beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off you.”

  I giggle and wriggle underneath him. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  And then he stops any further words with his mouth and takes his time making sure that any insecurities I have are long forgotten by the time he snuggles at my side and breathes his contentment into my ear.

  We lay in satisfied silence for a while until he rolls himself onto his side, resting his head on his hand. “You know, I’m not the same either.”

  “You’re right, that was better.”

  He chuckles and kisses along my jaw. “Better?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Now I’m worried about before.” He shifts alongside me and I relish the feel of his skin touching mine. The warmth of our skin meeting just feels perfectly right.

  I glide a hand along his side, starting at his thigh, feeling along his toned stomach, up his chest until it rests on the curve of his shoulder. So beautiful, it hurts to think that I nearly lost him when he was in the racing accident. "Do you have any scars?”

  His eyes flick over me. “Yes.”

  “Show me.”

  “They aren’t those sort of scars, Amber. You can’t see them.”

  I go to ask more but I choose to let the moment pass. We will have time again in the depth of night to discuss the dark matters that weigh on our minds. I plant a kiss on his collarbone, breathing in the scent of him. "I want to know everything about you,” I say. “I want to know what you do, the business, your hobbies, the racing, all of it.”

  He chuckles and his body rocks mine. “I’ll tell you everything. I want to know about you, I want to know about Isaac when he was a baby, I want to know about the stories you write. Why you got married?” His voice trails off a little bit here. In a sudden movement, he pins me to the bed, his lips trailing kisses down my throat, my heart rate quickens instantly. “But most of all I need to see these again.” In a flash he is up and straddled over my lap, his hands cupping my hideous breasts.” I squeal and squirm but he just tightens his grip around my hips with his knees. Lowering his mouth to catch hold of a nipple he smiles wickedly. “Yep, these I need to see again right now.”

  I start to giggle uncontrollably and crazy, happy tears start to leak out of my eyes all in the same moment. And that’s when I start to feel it, that unnamable emotion that I first started to feel for him nearly eleven years ago. It sucks me in, pulls me under, urges me to dive down deep and get lost with Freddy again.

  Tomorrow I will be Amber Williamson, the mum and sensible grown up, but right now I’m going to enjoy being Amber French, the girl who feels and giggles. I’m going to take every moment of that for as long as I can.

  WAKE-UP CALLS

  I have my eyes screwed tight shut. If I don’t open my eyes then I don’t have to let go of this moment — of this night — that’s taken me through a transformation like none I’ve ever known.

  “I know you’re awake.” Lips kiss along my hair while strong fingers smooth the length of the strands.

  “I’m not awake, I’m still sleeping, and you can’t wake me up.” I grin lazily, still refusing to open my eyes. My arms are wrapped tight around Freddy and my head is resting on his chest.

  His fingers lower and trail down my spine, lower and lower until I can’t be anything other than awake. Opening my eyes I lift my head and look intently at Freddy. Sunlight floods the room, bringing with it an autumn chill that lurks in the corners of the room, and along with it, a harsh reality. Can we make this work?

  “Is this real?” I ask.

  “Which bit?”

  “The bit where I came home, found you still here and somehow we became this again.”

  "Oh, that.” He leans in and kisses me on the tip of my nose. “That is all very real.”

  “Freddy?” I lean my elbow onto his chest so I can get his full attention.

  “Yes?”

  “Nothing’s going to stand in our way this time, is it?”

  A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I hope not, Amber French.” A flash of chagrin chases across his features. “Shit, I’m sorry, I keep forgetting.” He looks rueful at the familiar use of my maiden name.

  “It’s okay, would you like me to be Amber French again?”

  He laughs and falls back on the pillows. “Well, I’d kinda like you not to be married to someone else, that’s a bit of a pain.”

  “It’s not real.”

  “I know, you’ve told me.”

  During the night while the dark shrouded us in it’s safe depths, I told him many of my secrets, my deepest thoughts, and some of my darkest dreams, the dreams that make me know that where we are right now isn’t wrong.

  “This is real.” I shimmy my way up his chest, entwining my legs with his as I kiss his mouth. “This is real,” I repeat.

  I’m just setting in for more Freddy Perfection when the doorbell rings. With a loud groan, I reach for my phone to check the time. “It’s only nine? Isaac can’t be back yet.”

  “Guess I shouldn’t be here when Isaac comes home?”

  I look at him, a heavy pulling sensation tugging on my heart. “Probably not. For now.”

  With a peck of a kiss, he rolls away and stretches off the bed. The visitor waiting at the door is momentarily forgotten as I gaze in wide-eyed wonder at the masterpiece that is Freddy Bale, as he bares all in front of me. A sudden flash of a memory blindsides me and for a moment all I can see is the singed, blackened skin he was left with after the accident. I recall all too well the way it made me unable to draw breath the first time I saw it. As quickly as the memory arrives, it evaporates and I’m left just staring at his pale skinned perfection. Running a hand along his bare creamy flesh, I look for scars in the cold light of day but just as the doctor at the time predicted, the skin trauma is nothing more than a distant memory, no lasting signs for the eye to see.

  Planting a kiss on his shoulder, I tiptoe so I can place my lips against his ear, swiftly his arms link and clasp around me tight.

  “I’ll go let him in, you wait here until I’ve got him distracted,” I suggest.

  Releasing his grasp, he grabs his jeans off the floor and I watch avidly as he slides them up.

  As quickly as possible, I struggle into my own discarded clothes and then pace down the stairs, dragging my fingers through my tanged bed hair. “Hi,” I greet, opening the door. Any further words die in my throat when I see Elliot on the other side of the door.

  “Hi.” He smiles at me, his expression assured.

  “What are you doing here, Elliot?” I can’t keep my surprise out of my tone.

  “I want to see Isaac.”

  “He’s not here, and you cancelled yesterday, you can’t just turn up here and expect to be able to see him.”

  "Why not?” Now it’s Elliot's turn to sound surprised, but I’m sure the surprise is feigned.

  “Because this isn’t what we arranged, we said every other Saturday and you couldn’t do yesterday which means you’ve lost your weekend.” I try and make myself sound confident but I’m not feeling it on the inside. I’m very aware of Freddy upstairs, I don’t want to hurt Elliot’s feelings; our marriage is over, has been for a long while but I don’t want to offend anyone. In the same breath, I don’t like the fact he thinks he can just turn up here unannounced. He knows he doesn’t have any real right. I’m just going along with his request out of respect and a huge dose of guilt.

  “Listen,” I try and make my voice stronger. “I
’m sorry you’ve had a wasted trip, but Isaac is with a friend. He had a sleep over last night and he won’t be home until later.”

  “Call him.” Elliot takes a step up onto the threshold and blocks me from closing the door.

  “No, Elliot. It’s not happening.”

  “Why are you being so difficult, I thought we were going to keep this all nice?” he mimics my voice. I did use the word nice, and I cringe now, a faint embarrassed burn stinging my cheeks. I was naive, no separation and divorce can be nice. My realisation that living in a loveless marriage wasn’t the way to spend my life doesn’t mean that I get an easy extraction from the situation.

  There were three of us in the marriage after all, Elliot, Isaac and I.

  I hear Freddy pound down the steps and have one of my moments of mental clarity when it becomes resoundingly clear that there were actually four of us in the marriage. Freddy was always there, lurking in my every waking thought like a ghost unable to pass on. Or one I was unable to let go of.

  “What’s going on, Amber?” There is no disguising his disheveled appearance, nor the hair standing at right angles, which I tousled with my fingers numerous times through the night.

  Elliot’s eyes widen in surprise before a hardened demeanour spreads over his expression. “Wow, Amber. That’s fast, even for you.”

  His words are a low blow. I know I’m no saint.

  I don’t know what to say. There are no words forming in my mind, I’m paralysed stuck between a rock and a really uncomfortable hard place. Freddy speaks instead. Clearly he doesn’t need me to make introductions. “You heard Amber. Isaac isn’t here, you should leave.”

  Anger flashes across Elliot’s face and I pitch a step forward, trying to get between the two of them. “Freddy, please let me sort this.”

  Elliot lets out a low hiss when he hears Freddy’s name. “Oh my God, this is just tragic, Amber! Did you come rushing back here to be with him again?” He gives his head a slow shake, like he’s trying to get the information to sit properly inside.

  “It’s not like that, Elliot.”

  “Like what? Like you used me for years and then at the first opportunity, the first excuse you had, you came running straight back to him? Shit, Amber. That’s low, I mean I knew you were manipulating me, but that’s low.”