By the time they got back to his apartment, she’d drunk one too many glasses of champagne, which made playing the violin—naked or otherwise—difficult. He shook his head and laughed as she stood at the end of the bed and attempted a concerto. And when she pouted, he rose and went to her, gently taking the violin and placing it back in its case on the floor.
‘I think you need some sleep,’ he said, pulling her into his arms and down onto the bed with him. Her body thrummed in anticipation of his touch, but he merely tugged the blankets up over them and snuggled her up against him. Within seconds, she felt her eyes drifting shut.
Warning bells were sounding loud and clear in her head, but she ignored them. It would be the first time she’d stayed the night.
Chapter Twenty-six
Good luck. Thinking of you and fingers crossed that it works. xo
Madeleine pressed a hand against her stomach as she read Celia’s text, unsure whether her slight nausea was the result of the weirdness of her situation or anxiety over what was about to occur. She typed back a quick thanks and then left her phone on the kitchen bench as she ran around her apartment, making sure everything was in order. This wasn’t necessary—Hugo had seen it in a state of glorious mess on many occasions—but somehow today felt different.
The intercom buzzed and while her body froze at the sound, the butterflies in her belly went crazy. She took a deep breath and rushed over to the wall by the door, pressing the button before she had time to back out. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, Mads, it’s me.’
‘Come on up,’ she said, hoping she didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. She pressed the button to let him into the lobby below and then swung open her front door, anxiously awaiting his arrival. It seemed to take forever for the elevator on her floor to beep open and for Hugo to emerge, but even with time to prepare, she couldn’t help the spark of awareness that flared low in her belly at the sight of him.
‘Hi,’ she breathed, inappropriately overcome by how hot he looked in simple blue jeans, a grey light-knit sweater and a black leather jacket over the top. Did he have to be so perfect?
He strode towards her and leant forward, brushing his lips against her cheek before pulling back. He half-smiled. ‘Hello.’
She laughed nervously at the oddness between them and then stood back, gesturing for him to go on ahead of her into the apartment. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ she asked as she closed the door behind them.
He glanced around as if he’d never been there before and then shook his head. ‘I’d rather we got this over with.’
He didn’t sound like someone overly enthusiastic about what they were going to do and she almost asked him if he’d changed his mind. But the thought of Lucinda’s email earlier that week and the desire to have a child, which had grown within her like some kind of out-of-control weed since she’d made her decision, kept Madeleine from saying anything of the sort. This was something she needed to do.
‘Okay then.’ She nodded, her heart beating wildly in her chest. ‘Would you prefer to use the bathroom or my bedroom?’
‘The bathroom,’ he answered quickly and she cursed herself for offering the latter. It sounded a little too intimate, as if she were inviting him into her boudoir. He shrugged off his jacket and flung it onto the couch.
‘The specimen jars are in there waiting for you,’ she added, pointing in the direction of the bathroom.
‘Great.’ He smiled warmly at her, which slightly eased her anxiety. ‘Do you want to go and get yourself ready in your bedroom and I’ll leave the sample outside your door when I’m finished?’
‘Sure. Good plan.’ What exactly did he think getting ready entailed? Of course she’d read the research that conception was more likely if she were aroused when the sperm was injected. Was he suggesting she pleasure herself? Her cheeks burned at the thought.
‘I’ll knock,’ he said, already turning towards the bathroom.
As Hugo closed the door behind him, Madeleine wondered if she should have left some dirty magazines in there for him, like they did in the IVF clinics. Or maybe a picture of herself naked? Her cheeks heated even more at that illicit thought, the warmth spreading to other parts of her body as her mind ran away to a naughty fantasy land. Aroused? She was already more than halfway there.
And then she heard a noise—much like that of a man in the throes of pleasure—that jolted her into action. Although curious about how Hugo would sound during sex, she didn’t want him to come out and find her listening like some kind of pervert, so she rushed off to her bedroom, her uterus quivering at the thought of exactly what he was doing on the other side of the wall. She lay down on her bed, closed her eyes and imagined Hugo lying beside her. Before she realised what she was doing, her hand had slid beneath the waistband of her black yoga pants and down between her legs. Her breathing altered as she imagined Hugo’s fingers pushing in and out of her, teasing that tender nub until she could bear the pleasure no more.
Her heart raced and she bit her lip to stop from crying out as the first orgasm she’d had in a very long while washed over her. She was lost in her bubble of bliss when a knock sounded at her bedroom door. Yanking her hand out of her pants, she sprang off the bed as if she’d just been caught doing something illegal.
‘Thanks,’ she managed to call out—unsure whether she was thanking him for his deposit or for playing an unwitting role in her exquisite release.
‘You’re welcome,’ came Hugo’s reply. ‘See you at work.’
He sounded so very normal, except this situation was anything but. She waited until she heard the apartment door close and then opened her door slowly and peered down at the little jar on the floor. He’d done it.
It looked small and insignificant but that tiny specimen jar could hold her future inside it.
Her hand shaking, she bent down to pick it up, clutching it against her chest as she retreated to her room and put it on the bedside table beside the other paraphernalia she had lined up and ready for the next stage of the plan. Still warm from the aftershocks of her climax, she stared at Hugo’s generous donation.
Was she crazy to even consider this?
Chapter Twenty-seven
It felt like Groundhog Day. Another day at school teaching six year olds who seemed to do nothing but whine and dob on each other. Mrs Manomano (none of them could pronounce her name), Jackson pinched me. Mrs Manoram, Sophie’s using the wrong pencil. Their endless jabs at each other were enough to drive anyone insane and quite frankly, Lucinda wouldn’t care what pencils the kids used if they’d just shut up and get on with their work. She hadn’t always been so impatient with the littlies and she hated it, but she couldn’t seem to snap out of her funk.
And then she’d come home and spent another evening doing the washing and cooking dinner, planning for the next day and half-heartedly watching Outlander on the TV while she cut out cardboard clovers for the St Patrick’s Day assembly tomorrow. Her friends in the staffroom raved about the show but Lucinda couldn’t seem to get excited about anything these days, not even the actor playing hot redhead Jamie Fraser.
After smoothing night cream over her tired skin and brushing her hair, she climbed into bed beside Joe, who’d retreated to their bedroom just after dinner. Although she ruffled the sheets as she slid between them, he was so focused on the iPad screen on the pillow in front of him and whatever was happening in the land of Minecraft that he didn’t even stir. She knew if she tapped him on the shoulder and told him it was that time of the month, he’d put the game down and give her some attention, but when had sex become such a chore? Something they needed, rather than wanted, to do. When had spending the evening with a little screen, doing whatever one did when one played Minecraft, become more appealing than hanging out on the couch with her?
She remembered a time when she would climb into bed wearing a skimpy nightie and find him naked waiting for her. Nowadays Joe’s standard night-time attire was faded boxer shorts and an old t-shirt. Once upon a time,
he’d have turned to her with lustful eyes and asked her how her day was. They would have talked for hours before slipping into each other’s arms and making love. They used to have so much to say to each other, but these days they barely seemed to have anything at all.
Was buying him the iPad a mistake? It had come into their bedroom and occupied him during the times that use to be just for them. Or was this just what happened to all marriages after you’d been together for more than a decade? People who were lucky enough to have children probably didn’t even notice because they had so much else going on. And of course couples with children always had something to talk about with each other. She sighed, giving herself a headache with all these woeful thoughts, and then reached over to her bedside table to grab her own iPad. She swiped her finger across the screen and the forum she’d been looking at last night appeared. She skimmed the new messages quickly to see if there was anything interesting, anything that might be the key to fixing her plight.
But as usual there was nothing out of the ordinary. Why the hell did she bother reading this stuff? None of her research had done any good. No matter what she found, what she read, it didn’t change anything. In all the forums and articles, all the stories of gypsy curses, they kept coming back to the same thing. Going back to the source. But, like in so many of the stories shared, the source of her family curse had died years ago.
She’d stopped sharing the stories with Joe a couple of weeks ago because it only irritated him. No wonder he preferred the iPad to her these days. She was even beginning to irritate herself. Puffing out a frustrated sigh between her teeth, Lucinda dumped the iPad on the floor beside her, deciding to abandon reading all this useless rubbish. The thought of another day like the one she’d had today made her want to scream out loud. What would Joe do if she did? If she opened her mouth as wide as it would go and hollered until her cheeks went red and her throat went dry?
Maybe then he’d ask her how her day was. And she would tell him: Today was crap, Joe. One of the year five teachers announced her pregnancy and two of the mums from my class were showing off their beautiful newborn babies in the school pick-up line. Sometimes it felt as if everyone in the world could get pregnant except her. If one more friend or colleague announced their pregnancy, she would not be responsible for her actions.
‘Are you okay?’
She jumped at the sound of Joe’s voice and turned to see he’d put the iPad away and was leaning on one elbow, looking up at her as if she were a stranger in his bed. Sometimes she felt that way and she hated it. She hated her life at the moment, she was beginning to hate herself, and if things kept going the way they were then Joe would be next in the firing line. Something had to change.
‘No.’ She shook her head and looked down at her husband. ‘I’m not. I want to quit my job.’
‘What?’ He pushed up into a sitting position. The expression on his face and the tone of his voice echoed her own surprise. Until she’d said it out loud, she hadn’t actually known this was what she wanted, but now it seemed like the obvious solution.
She rubbed her lips together, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before explaining. ‘I’m tired, Joe. I’m tired of all the negative energy I’m carrying around because of the baby thing, and school only makes it worse. Every day I’m dealing with other people’s offspring, wondering if I’ll ever be able to have any of my own and it feels like a slap in the face. I’m taking out my anger and frustration on the kids. And on you.’
She went quiet a moment and he didn’t deny it. ‘You know things aren’t the best between us at the moment and I don’t want the baby thing to come between us. I want to stay at home, focus on you, on me, on us and our marriage again.’
He frowned a little. ‘But what about the weeks when I’m away? Won’t you get bored?’
‘I don’t think so.’ She shook her head and smiled, reaching out to take his hand. ‘And think of the benefits. I won’t be so tired and grumpy when you come home from work now. I won’t have any planning to do, so I’ll have time to make proper dinners and those chocolate mud cakes you used to love. I know the baby thing has taken over our lives and that is mostly my fault, so I want to do something about it.’
‘Well, if you’re sure.’ He squeezed her hand back. ‘I thought you loved teaching?’
‘I do. Rather, I did, but I’m not the same person I was when I started and I don’t think I’m a good teacher anymore. I don’t have the passion, the drive, and if we do have children, I wouldn’t want our kids to have a teacher like me, a teacher whose heart isn’t one hundred percent in the job.’ Sure she felt bad about deserting her class in the middle of the school year, but it wasn’t any different to what she’d have to do if she were pregnant. And her students would be better off without her—they’d get some young, fresh, first-year-out teacher full of enthusiasm and eager to prove him- or herself. Someone exactly like she’d been ten years ago.
‘Okay then,’ Joe said. ‘It’s gonna be tight with the mortgage and stuff and I don’t know how we’ll afford IVF if we need to go down that track, but that’s okay if you think it’ll make you happier. You know that’s all I want, right? It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
‘Oh, Joe.’ Lucinda leaned across and kissed him on the lips, her heart fuller for him than it had been in a long time. Her mood already felt lighter now she’d made this decision. She’d type up her letter of resignation in the morning. It was time to put herself and her marriage first.
Joe’s hands slipped behind her back and he pulled her towards him, crushing her breasts against his chest as he deepened the kiss and ran his hands down to cup her buttocks. She felt the hard pressure of his aroused cock against her stomach and rubbed herself against it, trying to encourage herself as much as him. But all she could think was that this wasn’t the right time of the month, so what was the point?
He pulled back and then flipped her onto her back, pausing a moment to rip his t-shirt up and over his head. More than ten years after she’d met him he was still the most gorgeous man she knew—all tan and sculpted muscles looming above her. She reached up and skimmed her fingernails down his chest, smiling when he sucked in his breath at her touch. His hands then traced a path to the bottom of her nightie and she wriggled, assisting him as he eased it up over her head.
‘My bella Lucinda,’ he said, his voice rough as he gazed down at her and then dipped his head to take one nipple in his mouth. His tongue twirled around the bud in a manner that had once driven her insane and she waited for the need and desire to flare up within her. Waited and inwardly prayed. But she just couldn’t summon the desperation she’d once had for him.
‘Yes, Joe.’ She moaned, faking her arousal as he snuck his hand down between her legs and did things to her that used to drive her wild, just wishing he would get it over with so she could go to sleep. Remembering Meg Ryan’s famous fake orgasm in When Harry Met Sally, Lucinda gave it her everything, panting and squirming and vocalising apparent delight. When she could take it no more, she urged him on top of her and sighed with relief when he plunged deep inside. Joe read this sigh as one of pleasure and as he pumped and then came, she wished to hell it was.
Lovemaking wasn’t supposed to be something you got over and done with, just like it wasn’t only for the purpose of making babies. She loved this man more than anyone and anything in the world and she wanted to revive that passion again.
She only hoped that quitting work and taking some time out would help.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Charlie couldn’t remember her life in Melbourne ever being as hectic as this. She’d done her sixth hula-hoop class at the local tennis club hall this morning and there’d been double the number of attendees as last week. Word spread fast in the country and young mums and pensioners alike appeared to be happy to have a new avenue for fitness.
After class, she’d showered and was just sitting down at the kitchen table to start an assignment for her naturopathy course when Dad came in a
nd she rushed to hide her workbooks under the table.
He didn’t appear to notice as he crossed the room and bent to kiss her on the head. ‘Hello, my love.’ He straightened and rubbed the side of his forehead. ‘Would you be able to drive down to Port Augusta and collect Mags for me today? I’ve got a bit of a headache and thought if I have a nap I might be able to get rid of it before tonight.’
‘Are you okay?’ Charlie looked up at him, concerned. Tonight, at Mitch’s suggestion, they were holding their first theme night—St Patrick’s Day at the Meadow Brook Motel—and Charlie hoped she wasn’t putting added pressure on Dad. She’d done most of the organisation with a little help from Rob and Mrs Sampson, but still.
‘I’m fine,’ he insisted. ‘It’s just a headache.’
‘Well, if you’re sure. I’d love to go get Aunty Mags. Have you taken any painkillers?’
‘I’ll take one now. You’re an angel, my girl. Drive safe.’
‘I will.’ Charlie smiled at Dad as he turned and headed down the corridor to his bedroom, then she grabbed her books from under the table and took them back to her own room. If she needed to drive to Port Augusta and back, study would have to wait. Everything about the course fascinated her, but finding the time to get her reading and assignments done was proving difficult. There was always something or someone requiring her attention and she rarely got a moment to herself. For that reason it would be nice to take a drive.
The only problem with time alone was that it gave her mind the chance to wander. And, as always, it found its way to Mitch.
Since the barbeque at Macca’s place, he’d been busy working and they hadn’t seen much of each other. She’d hoped this would help get her errant hormones back in order, but she missed him so much. Painting was boring without him wielding a brush and cracking jokes beside her. But unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to pay him for his company and he needed to earn a living. And it wasn’t like she was lacking in human interaction. Her dad and Mrs Sampson were always available for a chat, Rob liked to have a natter in the evenings and she’d started meeting Kate and Lisa for a drink at the café after each hula-hoop class, but none of them made her feel like she did when she was with Mitch.
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