Natexus

by Victoria L. James

  “And the diamonds?”

  “Barbara, when I have the money, I’ll bathe you in them.”

  “Silly thing is, I believe you.” She laughed that rough, genuine laugh of hers before she picked up her bag and we both began to make our way out of the building. We’d just waltzed inside the elevator and were watching the doors close when she eventually turned to me and spoke again. “Natalie Vincent: always willing to give more than she has, no matter what it costs her to give it.”

  *******

  “Babe?”

  “Yeah?” I called back over my shoulder. I was on the sofa in Marcus’ apartment, completely full to the brim after eating Chinese takeout for the second time that week. I’d arrived at his front door, a little tipsy from my drown-my-sorrow drinks after work, and seductively asked him if he fancied a visit from a ‘sure thing’ for the night. Apparently, I’d stopped off for food on the way, bringing a huge bottle of Prosecco home with me as though we both had something to celebrate.

  I hated Prosecco.

  “Are you still naked in there?”

  I glanced down at my body as if to confirm with myself more than him that I was, in fact, still naked. Biting back my grin, I pulled the blanket from the back of his sofa and draped it over my shoulders.

  “Kinda.”

  “Kinda? What does that mean? I told you to stay naked!” he cried.

  “It’s chilly.”

  “It’s August and we’re in a heatwave.” I could hear him rushing around his bedroom in a panic to come back and inspect me. Marcus had had to excuse himself just moments beforehand to take a business call. A business call that, had it been made a few minutes before, would probably have been ignored due to the fact that the only sound around the whole apartment had been Marcus’ grunts of appreciation and the slapping of skin on skin as he pounded into me over the back of the sofa.

  “You left me,” I huffed in feigned annoyance. “You used me, abused me and then left me!”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Ouch, shit!” The sound of him running straight into the edge of his wooden bed had me pressing the blanket to my mouth as I tried to stifle my laughter, but that proved more and more impossible as he hopped around like a lunatic, shouting out random curse words at the bed. “Fucking piece of Ikea shit. Fucking straight lines and pointy fucking corners. Bollocks. Christ on a fucking bike. Ouch.”

  It went on and on and on, and I cringed at the noise he must have been making. His neighbours in the apartment below were notorious for knocking on his door at the most inappropriate times, just to tell him to turn his television or stereo down.

  “You okay?” I asked, still struggling not to giggle.

  It took a few minutes for him to appear, but when he did, the little frown on his face was nothing short of adorable. The black curls of his hair were now a chaotic mess that hung down over one side of his face, and the new hobble he had adopted made him look so cute and vulnerable, it took everything I had to stay seated and wait for him to come to me.

  “I have an ouchie,” he said through a pout, hissing with every step he took closer to me before he stood towering over me. “And you lied. You’re a lying, naked, beast of a woman.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, ignoring his observations.

  “Banged my toe on the bed.”

  “Ooh, ouch.” I cringed, peering down at his feet before opening up my arms and the blanket to him. “Want me to cuddle you better?”

  “I shouldn’t…”

  “But?” I grinned.

  “I want the boobies. I really want the boobies.”

  I laughed as he snuggled in place. For a man who worked out a lot, he always felt so right and comfortable when wrapped up in my arms. We had one of those equal relationships going on. I never felt like I was too small in his grip and he never felt too manly to be in mine. We were comfortable embracing one another, and no matter how many times one of us got hurt, the other would always be there waiting with open arms to make everything better.

  His sexy, half pissed off groan did things to me as he snuggled in place and dropped his head into my naked lap. I never thought I’d be so comfortable around another man, but Marcus had spent years building up this trust with me. It had taken me a long time to let another man touch me after Alex. Too long.

  I wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and looked down at him as he stared at my naked breasts.

  “These always make me feel better. They’re like magic.” He grinned.

  “Magic toe healers.”

  “They’re magic everything healers. It already hurts less.”

  “Funny that, isn’t it?” I chuckled, raising a hand to comb through the unrulier parts of his hair. It was so thick and so black in its uniqueness. I’d never seen anyone else able to carry off the look that Marcus pulled off. It had never been love or even lust at first sight with him, but as we grew closer over the years, I began to wonder how I hadn’t seen it sooner. I was always aware of women surrounding him whenever we went out together. I just never felt that jealousy when they were there. I never saw what they lusted after because all I saw for such a long time was my friend. My best friend’s brother. My go-to when things got tough. Even now, knowing he was mine, I trusted him implicitly when we were around other women.

  A part of me knew I always would.

  “It’s not funny at all, Nat.” Peeking up at me, he put on his cutest man pout and batted his lovely, long eyelashes. “I’m a man. I can handle pain. Some kid once threw a punch at me so hard, I saw spots for days, but I didn’t fall. I barely even flinched.”

  “My poor baby.”

  “But this pain, that stub your toe kind of pain, that’s fucking evil.”

  “Evil?”

  “You know why?”

  “Because you can’t hit it back?”

  “No. Although there is that. But no. It’s because it doesn’t hit you straight away and then let you get over it. I hate stubbing my toe because you smack it, then you wait. You wait for what seems like forever for that fucking pain to wash over you. You’re just standing there, completely still like an idiot. There’s nothing you can do except hold your breath and wait for it to bring you to your knees… and there’s shit all you can do about it. You know what I mean?”

  I blinked down at him, all too aware that the smile had fallen away from my face as he spoke. A chill crawled sneakily down my spine. It was an Alex induced chill, taunting me until it felt like all the blood had dripped from my face and was currently bleeding out of my feet. I knew exactly the kind of pain he was talking about.

  “I do,” I pushed out as I swallowed. Trying to distract him, I smiled weakly and tilted my head to one side, not stopping as I caressed his hair. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I have your twins to make me feel better.”

  Just like that, he had me smiling again. His hands found their way up my stomach until two things held his attention completely, and with a small kiss here and a small tickle there, I soon found myself beneath him once more. It wasn’t long before I found comfort and quiet in his kiss again, until all that was left was the two of us making love on his couch for the second time that night.

  Him trying to ignore his stub your toe kind of pain.

  Me trying to ignore my stub your toe kind of memories.

  TWENTY-SIX

  I found myself watching out for Alex’s father’s name every morning when I went to work that week. Stupid, really. I knew how the appointments worked so I should have been aware that he wouldn’t be back so soon. Still, it didn’t stop the butterflies from rumbling in my stomach every time I saw the glass doors begin to open as a new arrival waltzed into the building. There’d been the temptation to ask Barbara to tell me every little thing about Alex, but I’d tried to squash it down as much as I could. I knew what letting him in would do to me. I’d been strong enough to let him go once before. Now I had to keep him there, locked away in the dusty recesses of my mind. It was either that or move thous
ands of miles away.

  I'd heard Dubai was nice.

  The very thought of being so far away from my parents had me shuddering every time those crazy ideas popped up in my mind. They’d already lost one daughter; I wasn’t about to take their last one away from them, no matter what I was going through.

  I made it through the week, and the weekend brought with it the usual fun. Sundays were now dedicated to my mum and dad, and thankfully for me, I had a man in my life who seemed to love them almost as much as I did.

  Mum had been thrilled the moment Marcus told them we were an official item. Dad… Well, Dad hadn’t shown much emotion about anything in a while, really. He found it difficult when I went to university, yet he tried his hardest to hide it from me. It didn’t work, but that was only because I had Mum telling me how much he was struggling every time she phoned me to touch base. She and I had become closer in recent years. I hoped that bond would always continue to grow.

  As we sat around their dining room table, waiting for Mum's Sunday dinner to be served, I glanced at the two men in my life. Dad was to my right and Marcus to my left. This tradition of ours had been set over recent months, mainly because I always felt incredibly guilty about staying at Marcus’ place so much while I still lived at home, sponging off Mum's good food and Dad's good will. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them one day, so I enjoyed their company as much as I could, while I could, and Marcus joined me every step of the way.

  “What are you going on about now?” I huffed, leaning farther over the table as I got stuck in the debate the two of them were having.

  “This doesn’t concern you, Natalie,” Dad warned me in that rough, fatherly tone of his. It was his ‘I’m older and wiser’ voice. Marcus might as well have quit while he was sort of ahead.

  “The subject of football versus rugby might not concern me, no, but the fact that you two are giving me a headache most definitely does.” I smiled sarcastically. “Do we have to go through this every single weekend?”

  “Until your boyfriend sees sense, yes.”

  I turned to look at Marcus, who was giving me his best ‘don’t worry, babe. I got this’ comforting face. He loved nothing more than to push my old man’s buttons, but only because he knew more than anyone just how much my dad loved a good debate every now and again. A kind man he most definitely was, but his views were his own and he’d defend them until the end, even if they were wrong to everyone else.

  “They’re both good sports, Tom. You know I love rugby as much as the next guy.”

  “No, lad,” Dad cut him off, copying my pose as he leaned even farther over the table to make his point. “Rugby isn’t just a good sport. It’s a fine, rough, animalistic form of sportsmanship. It isn’t like football. Those men aren’t out on the field with diamond earrings in their lugs one minute, then posing for Vogue magazine the next–”

  “Vogue magazine? Dad, really?” I smirked, interrupting him, but he didn’t stop or pay me a blind bit of notice.

  “Those men are out on the field because the sport is in their hearts. They don’t fake falling down. They barely even flinch when they get half their ears ripped off. They are there to win. Win! They don’t whine and moan in their opponents’ faces like crybabies. They take their legs out from beneath them and smash their enemies to the ground when there’s an issue, and they expect to see blood during almost every game.”

  “Exactly. Would you want your grandkids taking part in that kind of play, Tom?” Marcus asked calmly, unable to hide the hint of amusement in his voice.

  “Grandkids?” Both Dad and I cried in unison, our heads turning to Marcus in an instant as our eyes popped wide open.

  “Yeah. If Natalie ever has a son–”

  “Whooooooa,” I cut in, leaning back in my chair with my hands in the air.

  “Something you need to tell me, Natalie?” Dad asked with an eerie sense of unnatural calm to his voice as he turned to stare at me. I hadn’t missed the way the colour had drained from his face, though.

  “What? No!”

  Marcus chuckled from where he was sitting, quickly covering his mouth with his hand and clearing his throat when my dad shot him a short, sharp glare.

  “Are you sure? Because now is not the time. Not without your mother here.”

  “Dad, no. Calm down. I am not… I mean…”

  “Who isn’t what?” Mum asked casually as she strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a pot of potatoes in her oven-glove-clad hands. “What’s happening?”

  “Nothing.” My voice was a bit too high pitched. I had no idea why.

  “Natalie is freaking out,” Marcus told her smoothly as he took the old, overused bowl from my mum’s hands and positioned it on the table in front of us all. “Ouch. That’s still hot.”

  “It has just come out of the oven, darling,” she told him before patting his head in feigned sympathy. He looked up at her through his dark lashes and flashed her his winning smile, and that was that. Mum was putty in his hands all over again. “And why is my daughter freaking out?”

  “Because I mentioned grandchildren to Tom.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes popped, too, and her mouth remained in an ‘O’ shape for quite some time until she turned to me and blinked.

  Before I knew what was happening, I had three pairs of eyes staring directly at me. One pair filled with humour – the bastard. One pair filled with what looked like longing – bless my dear mother and her huge heart. The final pair, though – I couldn’t get a read on what those were saying to me, but it didn’t look good.

  “Is it hot in here?” I asked, picking at my white shirt and fanning it quickly as the heat rose throughout my body.

  No one spoke for a while, but when Marcus finally laughed and cut through the silence, I was grateful. He reached across to grab my hand, brushing his fingers over the knuckles of my hand that still had a death grip on the table. “Breathe, Natalie,” he murmured.

  Breathe, Natalie.

  The same words Alex used to say to me. It always came back to him. It seemed every word and every phrase had been sewn into my veins so that once he was gone, anything anyone ever said to me would always remind me of him.

  I hated it.

  I hated that the very thought of him could take me away from the people who sat in front of me, so I fought it and pushed him back into the cage in my mind. A dusty corner was no longer good enough. I was going to have to get something with a lid and a padlock on it, and then somehow lose the key.

  “You look pale, dear.” Mum walked slowly around the table until she was standing beside me.

  “Natalie?” Dad said quietly.

  “I’m fine. Hot. I’m hot. It’s hot,” I pushed out in a raspy whisper. “Hot, hot, hot.”

  “Babe…” Marcus’ voice cut through the hysteria and the mild, out of place meltdown I was having, forcing me to look up and focus on his beautiful face. Once our eyes connected, I felt calmer, and with each passing breath, I was sure my heart rate was coming down.

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “It was just a joke,” he eventually breathed out, squeezing my hand firmly at the same time.

  “You’ll say anything to win an argument, won’t you?” I tried to joke back, but my voice sounded all croaky and disingenuous.

  “You know me.” He grinned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you panic.”

  “I didn’t panic.”

  “I bloody did,” Dad grumbled.

  “Thomas!” Mum scolded.

  “Oh, come on, Rosie. You don’t want Natalie knocked up so early in life, any more than I do.”

  “Knocked up? What is wrong with you? Don’t be such a grump. What the bloody hell has gotten into you today? You’ve been like this since you came back from the shop this morning.”

  Dad had the decency to at least look a tiny bit embarrassed by his outburst. It was unusual for him to be so rude. That wasn’t who he was, not even on his worst day. He was making me nervous as he chose me to be the per
son he made eye contact with again, and when he did, I saw the sadness and defeat staring back at me. It was the same look I’d seen all those years ago after Lizzy had gone, and there was nothing he could do to stop the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention after that.

  “Dad?” I said carefully. “You okay?”

  He didn’t answer me right away, instead glancing over my shoulder at Mum before he eventually looked back at me. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. What’s–”

  “I said I’m fine, Natalie,” he snapped. Marcus must have caught my slight flinch because he squeezed my hand even tighter. Mum broke the silence at some point, and I was vaguely aware of us all eating our food as politely as we could. She and Marcus kept the conversation going back and forth, but my dad and I… we just kept glancing at one another before looking away awkwardly. There was something he was trying to tell me, or hide from me. I just had to figure out what it was.

  After eating, I cleared the table and went to wash the pots. Where Dad would normally have helped me while Mum put her feet up, today he chose to go outside.

  “Excuse me,” he muttered weakly as he walked right past me and slipped outside the back door. From where I was standing washing up, I could see him in the back garden. I watched as he bent down near the green and purple bush that had a small, stone fairy ornament hidden beneath it in honour of Lizzy. I watched as he stroked the back of it and dipped his head to his chest. I watched him when his hand eventually landed on top of his head and his body began to shake.

  He was crying.

  My father was crying.

  Glancing back into the dining room, I saw that Marcus held my mum’s attention completely. She looked happy. She looked content. All the while, her husband was outside in pieces. I moved without thinking, choosing not to tell her what was happening as I, too, slipped out the back door to make an escape. My bare feet felt free as I walked across the freshly cut grass. In any other circumstances, the bounciness of my toes would have had me jumping up and down, wanting to sprint away just to feel my lungs open up and my body work hard. But not then.