‘Can’t your mum babysit?’ Kate asked.
‘You know I don’t like to ask. They’re my kids; my priority.’
‘Excuses,’ Abi whispered into the screen.
‘Plus she’s obsessed with Barry, her new man,’ I replied, ignoring Abi’s somewhat accurate assessment. ‘She thinks he might be married. She rang Dublin airport when he said his flight was delayed, but it was a load of rubbish.’
‘Well, if the flight wasn’t delayed, he must be married.’ Abi rolled her eyes, breaking into a smile as I pushed her arm.
‘Does he live in Dublin?’ Kate asked, her voice breaking up as we dipped in out of connection.
‘Is he Irish Barry the cheating liar?’ Abi asked, her eyebrow fully cocked.
‘No, he’s working in Birmingham. She’s staying with him even though he disappears most weekends. Anyway, she’s otherwise engaged and can’t babysit.’
‘You know we’d babysit for you,’ Elle sighed in frustration.
‘Thank you, but I’ll do it in my own time. I may be using the kids as an excuse, but at the same time, I’m their mum. They need me to look after them, not palm them off onto everyone I know.’
‘Mummy, is that Aunty Kate?’ I turned to see Theo, who was rubbing his eyes having just woken up. His face was all scrunched up and it took me back to the moment I first laid my eyes on him and saw that he was all Jay’s nose and my eyes.
‘Hi, baby. Did you have a good sleep?’ He nodded and pressed his head into my neck. ‘Aunty Kate’s on the beach. Say hi.’
‘Hi, Aunty Kate. It looks sunny,’ he said, smiling as he peered at the screen. Kate lit up and waved.
‘I can see you, Theo. You look so big, so handsome.’ He giggled and turned his head to my shoulder as he blushed. Even nearly eight-year-olds get embarrassed by a pretty lady calling them handsome. ‘Are you missing me?’ Kate asked.
‘I want to sit on Danny’s bike again.’
‘Soon, I promise. Give Mummy, Aunty Abi and Aunty Elle a cuddle for me.’ Theo stood up and went straight over to Elle, squeezing her before doing the same to Abi. He played with Abi’s hair, twisting it around his fist as she made him laugh with her funny voices and tickle assaults.
‘I love you. Every one of you. Keep me up to date with wedding plans. I’ll send you my measurements later for the bridesmaid dress. Pray and keep your fingers crossed that I don’t put on any weight. I’m obsessed with the food here,’ Kate smiled. ‘Oh, and Gem, bloody arrange a date with dreamy Josh, you lightweight!’
The house was quiet. The boys had gone to their grandma’s for a couple of hours. Besides my friends, Joyce, Jay’s mum, was the biggest help to me, but with that came lashings of her default setting of being thoroughly disappointed. Not in her son, her little shining star, the captain of his ship, the clever, wonderful restaurateur. No, she wasn’t disappointed in her son who hadn’t seen his kids for two weeks. She was disappointed in me for allowing Jay to walk away from them. She treated me like it was my fault that he’d delayed coming home to his family every night because he enjoyed his bar staff sucking his cock at the end of service more, and that made our relationship slightly fraught.
Sometimes I hated the house being so still, but other times I yearned for it. Mum told me to appreciate the noise of two young boys in the house because when I was her age, I would miss it. I understood it on days like these. It was a taste of what life would be like for me when I was an older divorcee. Fuck, what a nasty term. It sounded awful, the letters rolling around in my mouth causing me to look like I was sucking on something sour.
Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of positives about being on my own. I got to cook naked without being fawned all over. I got to lick the spoon after making jam sandwiches without anyone calling me out on the double dip, and I got to sing ‘Billie Jean’—a classic—don’t argue with me—at the top of my voice whilst cleaning in my pants and an old T-shirt stained with something that looked like it had come out from either end of Brandon. I may have opened the door to a parcel delivery guy forgetting I was in just my pants too many times to mention. As soon as the kids were in bed, I drank a glass of wine, had a relaxing bath and watched a film on my tablet.
The negatives of being on my own ranged on a scale from OK to devastatingly awful. I had no one to tell things to at the end of the day, such as the milestones the kids had reached, like when Theo got ten out ten on his spelling test or when Brandon painted a rainbow on his first day at playgroup. Being unable to share the joy and pride in the little humans Jay and I had both created was sad. I also missed the intimacy. Not just the sex, but we’ll get to that. I missed the cuddle that turned into so much more when Jay got home in the middle of the night. The simple texts to tell him I missed him and the texts he sent back that made me smile for the rest of the day.
I’m not going to lie; I missed sex. I missed the feeling of a hand cupping my breast as I was pushed against the wall, a finger sliding into me when he couldn’t wait any longer, and the heat from another body pressed against mine.
God, I missed sex. Yep. Sex was something I missed. I needed sex.
Which led me on my journey to Loveisintheair.com.
When I built up the courage to join the dating site, I was tipsy. I was also horny. Not a great combination for clear thinking. The irony was that after a handful of disastrous dates, I hadn’t so much as licked a penis. Not that I wanted to. Those penises were not even worth a lick.
Josh messaged me first. He told me he liked my picture because he had a preference for cute blondes. If he was trying to score points, he scored two: One for contacting me in the first place, and the other for calling me cute.
His dark hair stood out for me. I’d always liked dark hair. It was short but had a slight wave, and I could imagine if he grew it long enough, the curl would deepen into spirals. His eyebrows were just the right amount of…brow, and they matched his dark hair. There was a series of pictures of him in a grey long-sleeved top with a wire trailing down like he was listening to music. He had his hands outstretched like he was talking to someone out of the picture, trying to articulate something completely necessary. I had a feeling that anything he said was going to be necessary. He commanded it. And, oh my God, his eyes. Dark, deep, clear, crinkling around the edges, giving him that sexy smoulder that only attractive men can carry off. His smile matched the context—sexy—giving an illusion of a nice guy but with a whole heap of dangerous behind it. It was a smile that encouraged mine, and that was enough to tell me that Josh was worth investing in.
He told me that he had been single for six months and wasn’t looking for anything serious unless it developed into something serious. Basically, he was open to anything, and that honesty was refreshing. I didn’t want bullshit. I didn’t have time for it.
For the past month, we chatted most nights; sometimes for just a few minutes to check in with each other, but at other times, hours passed before I checked the clock and panicked when I realised the boys would probably be awake in a couple of hours and I hadn’t even been to sleep. The panic didn’t take long to disappear when the urge to keep talking to him took precedence over anything else.
A flash of light caught my eye. I picked my phone up from the coffee table.
Josh: Hey
Me: Hey
Josh: That all I get?
Me: How are you?
Josh: LOL. Good.
Me: Why are you laughing?
Josh: You’re not very talkative
Me: Sorry. I’m on my own and that always makes me quiet
Josh: The boys with their dad?
Me: No. Grandma
Josh: Ah. Sorry
I had opened up to Josh a little bit about the divorce; mainly about my disappointment in how Jay didn’t put the boys first. He caught me on a day when he had let them down at the last minute, telling them over the speakerphone that he was caught up at work because I refused to tell them myself. I felt guilty after ranting to Josh, but he’d be
en surprisingly level-headed about it and didn’t take sides or call Jay a prick. At first, I wanted him to take my side, but after, when I’d had time to think it through, I came to the conclusion that I hadn’t realised how much I’d needed someone just to listen.
Me: Can’t be helped
Josh: Want to talk about it?
Me: No
Josh: OK. I’m sensing you’re not one to hold back how you’re feeling
Me: Never
Josh: Good to know
Me: Almost never…
Me: When it comes to my boys, it’s always…
Me: It helps everybody to know where they stand
Josh: I bet you’re the type of parent waiting at the school gates that I would fear…
Me: Only if you upset my kids. Other than that, we’d be good
Josh: I never upset kids. Kids love me
Me: I bet they do
Josh: What are your plans for the rest of the day?
Me: Well, life is just one long party for me. I’m going to iron Theo’s uniform ready for Monday. I’m going to unblock the sink because Brandon stuck a toy car down it thinking it would make a great garage, and then I may even fit in the enviable task of cleaning the bathroom…see how I feel. The night is young…
Josh: You’re a party animal…
Me: I know. My life is one long round of awesome
Josh: You need a break sometimes
Me: I get breaks
Josh: Good
Me: What have you been up to?
Josh: I had my first coaching session this morning
Me: Oh, yes! Sorry, I should have asked. How did it go?
Josh: Ten hyper seven-year-olds, a stray dog who took off with the football, bursting it between its jowls like a savage, and parents fighting over whose turn it was to wash the kit. What’s not to love?
Josh had just started coaching an under eights football team, saying that he had combined the two things he enjoyed the most: sport and being around kids. Teaching was his first love; he was doing regular supply work until he was ready to settle. He liked the variety of teaching in a small primary school in a village one week and a busy city school the next. We talked openly about Brandon and Theo. I had put in my profile that I was a mum, preferring to be open in the hope that I would only be contacted by men who could accept that my kids were a huge part of my life and would always come first. Josh told me his parents fostered children, starting when he was eight years old, which nurtured his interest in teaching.
Me: You mean to tell me you don’t wash the football kit? What kind of fuckery is that?
Josh: I can’t coach, bring the halftime drinks and fruit, referee the pushy football parents when a decision doesn’t go their way and wash the kits too! Who do you think I am? Superman?
Me: Do you think that’s why Lois Lane is so horny for Superman? Because of his superpowers and all the jobs he could get done while she’s out working at the Daily Planet? I bet he would wash the football kits. He’d have them washed and ironed in minutes. Seconds even. Wow, I never realised how hot that is…
Josh: I never got the Superman-Lois Lane thing
Me: Explain?
Josh: I get that they are attracted to each other. It’s natural. Part of life. The chemistry was there right from the start. Bam. What I don’t get is the logistics of it. Plot holes, Gem. Major plot holes
Me: You’ve lost me
Josh: Everyone knows that Superman’s super sperm would blow Lois Lane’s uterus to smithereens. Well, everyone apart from the writers it seems…
Me: Sexy
Josh: He’d be putting her life in danger every time. If he had any love for the woman, he wouldn’t put her through it, but we all know they went on to have a kid who shared his father’s superpowers. Plot holes…
Me: You’ve given it a great deal of thought…
Josh: I’m showing you how my mind works and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. This hiding behind a screen business really strips you down to basics.
Me: It’s unnerving, isn’t it?
Josh: A bit
Josh: Great couple, though. Clark and Lois, Lois and Superman. Iconic really
Me: Yep…
Josh: Can I ask you something?
Me: If it requires a bra or thinking time, I’m out…
Josh: How long do you think it took for Lois and Clark, or Lois and Superman—fuck me, it’s complicated—to ask the other out on a first date? You know, not just messaging each other and asking how their days have been?
Oh no, here it comes. I’m not mentally prepared for this. Can’t we just stay in the bubble of social media interaction?
Me: I’m pretty sure instant messaging didn’t exist for Lois and Clark/Superman…
Great deflection…
Josh: So they probably just went straight for a date then?
Me: Probably…
Josh: We’ve been chatting for almost a month now
Me: I know
Josh: I would really like to meet you. A lot, actually…
Oh God, am I ready for this?
Josh: Are you still there?
Is this what I want?
Josh: Gem?
Josh: What are you scared of?
Nothing…
Everything…
I took a shaky breath and put the phone on the coffee table in front of me. What was I scared of? Taking a risk was high up there, and this was a risk. It wasn’t just me I had to think about; I had Theo and Brandon to consider. What if we started a relationship? Would they like him? Would he like them? Could he handle an ex-husband who hadn’t quite let go? This would add complications to a situation that was already complicated. A situation that was delicate and sensitive and needed to be nurtured to make something out of it that was going to work for all of us.
There was only one thing for it. I picked up the phone.
‘Abi, it’s me. What should I do? He’s asking me what I’m scared of but I don’t know. What am I scared of? Do you know? Because, fucking hell, I don’t. There’s so much to consider. The boys and Jay, and what will Jay’s mother say? She already thinks I’m a crap mum. They still just walk into my house; his mother uses her bloody key! What if we were getting down to it on the living room floor, legs flailing, bums bobbing—’
‘Take a breath. Jesus, you’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?’ she replied. I heard her scrape a chair across the floor and imagined her sitting at the kitchen table shaking her head.
‘I should have called Elle, shouldn’t I? She’s the sensible one among us. She’d know what to do.’
‘I’m a professional sorter outer, Gem. Leave it to me. Advice number one: Change the locks; it’s your house; you can do what you like.’
‘First thing Monday morning,’ I replied. ‘Should have done it years ago.’
‘You think?’ she deadpanned. ‘Advice number two: Forget everyone else.’
‘I can’t—’
‘Hey, yey, yey. I’m talking. Take a breath and listen. You deserve something for you. You put everyone before yourself and you don’t have any fucking fun.’
‘What about the—’
‘Shush. Advice number three: Tell Josh that Jay has the kids next weekend and you would love to spend Saturday night with him. Arrange to go for a nice meal. You love food. You need feeding up. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you were eating a slice of toast when the kids were having dinner the other day. Get to know him face to face, no more messaging bullshit.’
‘What if Jay lets them down? You know what he’s like,’ I sighed as I put my feet on the coffee table.
‘If he lets them down, which we all know is bound to happen, we’ll have the kids here for a sleepover with fun Aunty Abi and Uncle Jamie. They’ll love it. Stop being a fucking idiot, Gem. Send him a message.’
‘I’m going to do it,’ I smiled.
‘You do it or I will.’
‘Thanks for the weird pep talk.’
‘Always a pleasure
. Love you.’
I read his last message to me. What are you scared of? and then started typing.
Me: Letting someone in again…
I watched the dots bounce up and down and my throat tightened in anticipation. Perhaps he was rethinking getting involved with a highly anxious, slightly detached, divorced mother of two with trust issues.
Josh: You’re already letting me in. Every day that we chat, I’m getting a little bit closer
Me: To where?
Josh: You
Chapter 4
Gem
I heard the front door open but decided to pretend I hadn’t heard it as I filled up the washing machine. I knew exactly who it was.
‘Only me,’ Joyce trilled as I counted to five in order to keep my sanity intact. ‘I just thought I’d nip round and sort through the kids’ sock drawers. I noticed the other week they were getting a bit shabby, so I’ve just been out and got them some new ones. Gem, where are you?’
Fuck me.
I took a deep breath and started talking to myself to stop the eruption I was trying hard to control as I heard her footsteps getting nearer.
She means well. They’re her grandkids. It saves me buying them socks. It may sound like a passive-aggressive jibe, but just ignore it…
‘There you are. Washing, are you? That’s a start,’ Joyce, Jay’s mother, the children’s grandmother, and my fucking nemesis, said.
‘Yeah, who knew there was a washing machine in the house?’ I replied, rolling my eyes until they ached.
‘Quite,’ she chuckled. I never knew how to take the woman, and because she grated on my last nerve, it made it even harder to make the call. ‘Or a hoover.’ OK, that sealed it. She was a bitch.
‘Joyce, can I ask you something?’ I said, slamming the washer door shut.
‘Of course,’ she replied, trailing her finger across the kitchen worktops and inspecting it with a wrinkled nose.
‘Can I ask why you feel it’s acceptable to come into my house using a key?’
‘Jay gave it to me,’ she said, like it was the most acceptable answer in the world, which it wasn’t, considering we’d been separated for four fucking years. It was my own fault. I knew that. I should have changed the locks, made a claim on my home when Jay left. But why had it taken me so long to tell her that letting herself into my house was taking fucking liberties? Well, the truth was, I needed her and I didn’t want to rock the boat. She had taken on the responsibilities her son had walked away from.
Let Me Be Your Last (Music and Letters Series Book 4) Page 3
