Snapping out of the gloomy direction of my thoughts, I gaze lovingly at my boy as he asks,
“Mummy?”
“Yes poppet?” I nod encouragingly.
“Why don’t we live with Daddy?”
Oh God, not tonight, I inwardly groan – how is it that children always seem to ask the difficult questions when you least expect them and are totally unprepared? It was as though he’d been reading my mind.
I take a seat on his bed and discreetly inhale a deep breath.
“Hmmm, well Baby, Mummy & Daddy decided that we are much happier living in different houses. Lots of families live like that darling, like your friend Mason and Meg from next-door. Sometimes it’s just better that way.” I stroke his shining blonde hair off his forehead in the way that I know soothes him.
He takes on board what I’ve said; his small brow furrowed in concentration as he digests it.
“Mummy, does that mean that I am the man of the house now?”
I melt for the second time in the last hour. Oh my gorgeous little boy.
“Yes I suppose it does and you know what? You’re doing a great job of it my Darling. Now off to sleep with you, you little monkey. Sweet dreams.”
That seems to work as he continues to quietly ponder my answers, and snuggles down, relaxing into his pillow. I hope he’s not worrying about the separation, too much. He seems to have handled things so well up until now; I had thought that he was settled. It has been nearly a year now, and the departure of his father had meant that we had bonded even more than I felt was possible. It was becoming increasingly more difficult, to make excuses for that bastard though; he was so bloody selfish. I just wish he would put Finn first, once in a while.
What I really wanted to tell Finn, was that his father was a spineless, dickless, brainless, tosser, who had been pretty average in bed, moody as hell, and left me in a world of financial shit! But obviously this was not possible; it was completely true, but not necessary to point out all of his bad points to a three year-old little boy, just to make myself feel better. No. It was all about Finn now and his feelings and well being, regardless of my own needs.
“Night Baby; best boy!”
“Best Mummy!” he responds, as expected.
It is our in-house Walton’s style bedtime routine - very corny but something we had started since it was just the two of us. It maintained his routine and actually mine too. Seemingly pacified at that comment, Finn curls up in his usual ball and closes his eyes. He’d be asleep in a few minutes, meaning I could catch up on some much-needed Zzz’s myself. Ha! Like that’s going to happen. Who am I kidding? I have a mountain of ironing, at least two washing loads to do, some layouts for Monday’s new client and I could do with fake tanning for the weekend.
Smiling at my golden boy, I head down to the basement, where the kitchen rests. Right, now shall I cook something first or grab a quick shower and get my beloved PJ’s on? I procrastinate briefly and then decide to go straight for the wine from the fridge and catch an episode of Holby City, my favourite British medical drama. Wine is the obvious choice for now and will help to dull the stress I can feel beginning to tap away at my temples; Holby City will make me feel like my life is better than the average person’s and would allow me 60 uninterrupted minutes to get lost in someone else’s drama. Sounded good to me.
Just as I am about to go into the kitchen, I hear a knock at the door.
“Come in!” I shout loudly, as I quickly nip down the last step to pour my wine. I am presuming it is one of my neighbours, as we all regularly pop into one another’s homes on a ‘Mi Casa Su Casa’ basis. It generally worked well between us if you didn’t count the time I’d walked in on Gemma, a few doors down, whilst she was getting down and dirty with her latest conquest.
Wrinkling my nose at that uncomfortable memory, I climb the stairs back to the main living area and enter the room. I then stop dead in my tracks, dumbstruck and mouth gaping to the point of embarrassment; I’m surprised I don’t drool. There, standing in the middle of the lounge, is one of my oldest and bestest friends and a real sight for sore eyes. Sebastian.
He’s back already? I wasn’t aware he was due home? What’s it been – nine months this time? Maybe ten?
Composing myself, I swallow hard, lick my lips and close my suddenly very dry mouth; making my way towards him. It is so good to see him. He looks like Sebastian, but different somehow, better - yes much better, and very dishy and tanned in his black Ralph Lauren polo shirt and khaki combat trousers combination.
I hadn’t realised until this moment, how much I’d missed him. I just want to envelope him in a big bear hug, but oddly something stops me, my feet are rooted to the spot, my arms tightly folded at my chest. I feel a little light-headed as I take him all in. Did he always look this good? Shit, he looks good.
His tall, well-muscled body fills the room; his presence everywhere - a fixed, considered gaze on my reaction. “Now then Chick, how’s things?” he says in his deep husky voice, smiling at me, in the most appealing way.
His voice travels over me, and I gulp, literally. My brain won’t function and I reach up to flick my hair away from my face - has the temperature risen several hundred degrees? His dark brown, almost black eyes follow me as I move towards the doorway. He seems as taken aback as me, at the strange vibe in the air; and also appears to be reluctant to hug me or kiss my cheek as he normally would - instead holding back.
Finding my voice on a croak, I usher him in. “Hi Love. Come in - sorry I thought you were Meg, from next-door. She was due to pop in at some point tonight. Come down to the kitchen, anyway and I’ll find you a beer.”
I am acutely aware that I’m rambling but I can’t seem to get a grip. I blame it on the tension headache and the fact that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
Nothing to do with the fact that he looks soo hot, you’re flushed from head to foot from the radiation kickback Lucia!
Following me into the hub of the home, I can smell him behind me; all clean, vanilla-musk and pure male, and instinctively quicken my pace to create more distance between us; mumbling incoherently over my shoulder.
“Have you eaten yet?”
We enter the kitchen and he positions himself in a corner, leaning casually against the entrance to the larder, where he usually posed during our many kitchen gossips over the years.
“Nope. I’ve not eaten yet, just got back this afternoon from Dubai; the build is finally over. Well, I’ve got to fly out for some promo work in the next month or so, but yeah, this one’s been a long-one.”
He removes his Ray-bans from the top of his head and places them on the counter top, rubbing the bridge of his nose lightly where the pads have been resting. “I thought I’d pop in and see my favourite person before I go face the mountains of unpacking. It’s been a while.”
Opening the fridge and glad of the welcome cool blast I feel on my face, I respond casually. “Oh, I’ve just put him to bed, literally ten minutes ago. You could check in on him though - he won’t wake up. You know how he is when he’s fast asleep.”
“I’ll do that now,” he says pointedly staring right at me. “But whilst Finn is definitely up there in the top five on my favourite’s list - I actually meant you Lulu.”
Holy Crap! His words travel across my body and over every one of my nerve endings, zinging them into life. He hasn’t called me Lulu in forever.
With my back to him, I compose myself, grab a Sol and gingerly close the door. He reaches out to clasp the beer I’m holding out for him, studying me intensely. Our fingers brush against each other in the switchover and the shockwaves that crackle on contact cause us both to look up in surprise. I drop my arm to hang at my side in a flash, and with hooded eyes watch him slant his head slightly to the left, then look me up and down appraisingly, for what feels like forever, but in reality is probably only a few seconds. He seems surprised at his own reaction, as he suddenly frowns, shaking his head a litt
le and turns to climb the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I presume he’s gone to see Finn. To be honest I’m glad to have a moment to compose myself. What the fuck was all that about? Was it me or did there seem to be a whole lot of sexual tension floating around in the room?
Oddly enough I’d never really allowed myself to think of Sebastian in that way. Bollocks! Well, only once, years ago, when we’d first met. I’d always told myself that he wasn’t my type.
So why am I suddenly as nervous as I would be on a first date? He’d definitely never thought of me that way either?
Jesus, he’s hot - Oh. My. God woman - you need to get laid!
There had been that one time at a mutual friend’s wedding when we’d ended up very drunk, putting the world to rights in the gardens to the back of the venue. My ex had been inside, probably flirting with his latest crush. We’d downed too many Tequila Slammers to count and a cheeky cigarette out back had lead to a rather deep and meaningful conversation about life and love and commitment. Sebastian had commented that he’d missed his chance at love, when she had settled down with another. At the time I’d been too inebriated to consider that she was possibly me? The moment passed, and we moved on, as we always had been – the best of friends. After all, I wasn’t his type either - if his usual female company was anything to go by. Tall. Leggy. Blonde. The antithesis, of me; petite, not-so-leggy and brunette.
He’d always gone for the extra lithe, super ditzy women - usually picked up in each Country or City he was frequenting. Each relationship, if you could call it that, conveniently ended when his contract did, if not before. Sebastian had always said that he preferred it that way; a get out of jail free card - all the perks, without the pressure. He was known as a bit of a player with a girl in every port – that kind of guy. Apparently his sexual prowess knew no bounds and for some reason, the reminder of that fact has me quivering.
Annoyed with myself, and my ridiculous thoughts, I quickly run to the fridge - the only mirror on that floor - to see my reflection and try to catch a glimpse between the many pieces of artwork by my talented son. Staring out between the green splodgey handprints and my favourite painting, showcasing a random blue slug, is a dark haired, green-eyed… Mum! Hardly the sex-goddess that would tempt a man, like Sebastian Silver.
My shoulders slump. No. Stop! You are not just a mum - you’re a twenty-nine year old, intelligent and attractive woman, remember that. My inner voice chastises me.
Actually I didn’t look that bad, considering I’d not refreshed my make-up since I’d returned home. My fitted black hook and eye corset shirt, showed enough cleavage to classily tempt and not turn tricks and my hair fell in heavy glossy waves, down my back, thanks to the last minute lunch cancellation at the hip new salon ‘Gum’, with my darling hairdresser, Sophie.
At least I’d gone for the wine option and not the fake-tan and PJ’s decision, when I’d got back. A slightly relaxed woman with a large Spritzer was much more pleasant to look upon, than a St. Tropez smeared stranger with the eye-watering scent of ‘eau de kebab’. I shudder at that unattractive vision.
Why did I care though, it was Seb?
He’d seen me in considerably worse states. God, when I thought about the nights out we’d had over the years - namely in the student bar, when he’d held my hair whilst I threw up, got me home safely in a cab or let me doss down at his on the sofa. He’d even helped me get to the toilet after my Oophorectomy operation, when burst ovarian cyst, warranted emergency surgery. I remember, him waiting patiently outside, - to carry me back to bed. Such a gent. Niall had been busy with work - of course!
Yep - if a girl was in distress within a five-mile radius, Sebastian Silver was the man you called. He just made everything, well… better. Now I was beginning to understand why women swooned around him too.
Had I had blinkers on for the past decade? Nope Hun, you’d just been blinded by Niall’s promises and deafened by his lies.
Sebastian hadn’t laid eyes on me for the best part of a year, nor had he seen me much since Niall & I had parted ways, so shockingly. The last time we’d spent time together, I was in the middle of a nasty break-up. I was still his best friend, but had also existed as part of a couple for nine years. I’d been two stone heavier and a blubbering, hormonal mess, trying to deal with the fact that I had just packed my partner off, and my future, as I knew it, had ended. I had probably appeared weak and lacking in my usual confidence and very un-Lulu-like. I shudder at the thought of the image I’d portrayed.
Whilst Sebastian visits my sleeping son, I take a moment to grab a pizza out of the fridge and switch the oven on. Then I prepare a small rocket and parmesan salad and mix up some french dressing. I suppose the one bonus of him arriving tonight, is that I might actually bother to eat. It is so much better cooking for two adults. I’d forgotten how nice it is to cook for a man, even if it is only to heat-up a ready meal. Most men are rarely on a diet and tend to eat so heartily, it relaxes you into doing the same.
I turn, just as I hear him bounding down the steps, his muscled body nimble, despite the three flights of stairs. It feels strange to have a man in the house again, or rather a man who is comfortable and knows his way around my home. Strange, but it’s also calming; I’d missed that, without even realising it.
Thank goodness I have such a good male friend. My female friends have been amazing but you can’t beat great male company. They just have a different type of energy about them and are great at helping around the house, with the crappy little jobs that most women don’t have the required gene (or inclination) in them, to perform. Sorry ladies if you’re good with tools, big ups to Girl-Power but unfortunately, I’m not one of those women - not that I won’t give anything a go at least once; but I know my limitations, and plumbing, changing tyres and picture hanging are on that list - to name but a few.
“Hmm. Something smells good!”
I smile brightly at his tanned watchful face. “Hope pizza suits, it’s all I have. Marks & Spencer’s though, so it should be up to your high worldly - wise standards.”
He swats me on the behind, and laughs as I squeeze past him to get the trays and cutlery, catching a gorgeous whiff of vanilla and spice and heat. My bottom buzzes literally and not from the soft smack and I stop a second to compose myself. He’s only trying to lighten the mood.
What is wrong with me? Get a grip! This is your mate.
My phone springs to life on the counter between us; interrupting the tension but the second I hear the ringtone I freeze. Oh no I’m going to kill Colin. He’s been at my bloody phone… again. Me so horny by 2 Live Crew bounces out, loud and bold in the kitchen. My cheeks blush as I watch Seb’s eyebrows near his hairline…and his lips curl in a playful grin, as the words repeat over and over.
“Oh me so horny, oh me so horny, oh me so horny - me love you long time.”
Seriously, could the timing be any worse?
“Nice ringtone Lu.”
“I didn’t set it - someone’s been messing with my phone.”
“Ok then - I believe you; many wouldn’t. Either that or you’re trying to tell me something.”
I glance down at the screen and see Meg, my rather energetic and newish neighbour's, name - I click the hold button, desperate for the song to end; I’ll call her later and Colin was in deep doo-doo.
Ignoring his continuing smirk, I change the subject fast. “I think this calls for a TV dinner, don’t you Mr. Silver?”
“Sounds good to me. Then you can tell me all about what’s been going on and how it is that with everything you’ve been through, you look sexier than ever Lu!”
Oh My! Sebastian’s always been a flirt but not really with me. Am I reading more into this? I really do need to have sex again… and soon. The dry spell is making me see things that aren’t there.
Yes, don’t be silly, it’s you. He would never be interested in you that way and why are you openly considering him?
; We snuggle down on the sofa and just as I reach for my wine, my iPhone woofs at me, alerting me to an incoming text. It’s Meg… again.
It reads…
Tried to call you - Just seen the hottest guy I’ve copped a look at in ages in the corner shop of all places. Then came home and saw him walking through your front door.
Fuck me, he’s fit, you jammy bitch - Who is he? I demand to be introduced. Your gagging for it and very single mate. Hint Hint ;)
I reply instantly, overcome by an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation, low in the pit of my stomach.
It’s my friend Sebastian, from University; I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before.
Having a night in but will introduce you soon x
Sitting back, I ignore Seb’s sideways glances towards my phone, as he piles rocket on top of his pizza. I am more concerned with the fact that the saying about green eyes seems to be very apt, in my case, as I realise that I am overcome with the undeniable and unwelcome emotion, jealousy, at the sheer thought that my friend would appeal to another.
Which is ridiculous, because why wouldn’t he? He’s single, as far as I’m aware, extremely wealthy and gorgeous! Plus, that was his thing; he had women literally falling at his feet.
He was never without a woman.
But he’s Sebastian and Sebastian is a commitment-phobe and because of that last pertinent point, I suppose I’d never considered him relationship material. Meg would probably only want a one-night-stand anyway though, I inwardly remind myself and am gutted that I’m also stricken by that potential scenario. Seriously annoyed I grab my tray and dig into the food diligently, glad of something to do. Sebastian considers me lazily as I nervously try to fill the quiet.
The One Awakened: Book 1 in The One Trilogy Page 3
