“Jess, it’s me, are the kids doing anything tonight? Only I'm going to see my parents and they've asked if the kids can come with me. I promise I'll have them back for 7.30pm at the latest,” he babbles, not giving me a chance to answer.
“Sorry, Ry, but the kids are hosting a tea party for Leanne, so maybe another time?” I put the key into the ignition without starting the engine.
“Oh, right, that’s a shame. Mum and dad will be disappointed but I suppose they would rather be having a birthday tea than going to see my parents,” he jokes and I smile down the phone.
“Exactly, sorry. They've been planning this for weeks. Holly has made a banner to put on the front door and they both made Leanne lovely birthday cards.”
“No problem, maybe the weekend then? I'm working close to home on Saturday so I can collect them at eight and drop them back off at six if that suits you?”
I know he prefers gigs closer to our hometown of West Bridgford, Nottingham. It means he gets more time with the kids and Ryan may have a lot of faults but he is an amazing father.
I momentarily wonder how we got to the point where we could be civil about him taking the kids for the day. There were huge rows when we first split but we seem to have settled into some kind of agreement, even if we did have to adjust it to suit Ryan's work.
I curl my lip thinking how music and DJing always came before everything else, including family time. I should respect his work- after all it did pay all the bills and leave enough left over for nice holidays, not to mention a great child minder who I can now barely afford to pay on my own.
“8 o'clock on Saturday sounds fine with me. Listen, Ryan, I have to go. I'm on the school run so I'll see you later, okay?” I reply as I put my seat belt on.
“Sure, no problem. Speak soon, Jess,” he answers before I say goodbye and hang up, setting off for school again.
Two hours later I'm giving the kids a quick bath to wash icing sugar out of their hair and chocolate chip smears from around their mouths. Baking buns was a lot of fun and even I have to admit, they look and smell divine, but gosh was it messy. “Mummy, tell Holly, it’s going in my eyes!” complains Riley and I tut.
“Please, stop, Holly, you know how upset you get if bubbles go into your eyes. I think it’s time we got out anyway, kiddywinkles, because Auntie Lee should be here shortly.” I smile and they instantly start cheering. Within minutes they are dry and in their onesies when there is a knock at the door which has them both bolting downstairs.
Holly pulls the door open and my younger sister stands on the front porch beaming, her bright, flawless smile lighting up the hallway.
“Who made me this?” she squeaks, pointing at the 'Happy Birthday, Aunt Lee' banner, decorated in pink glitter and purple sequins that we pinned to the front door.
“Me!” yells Holly, glowing with pride. “Buns, we made buns.” Riley yells whilst pulling Leanne through into the living room.
“Banners and buns, you two are spoiling me! Oh, wow, look at this place, balloons too. You're too kind,” Leanne exclaims before bending at her tiny waist, kissing the kids on top of their still damp chestnut hair.
Leanne was always the one blessed with the attractive genes in our family. Her luscious, long waves of blond hair sway to her hips and her blue eyes are alight with excitement.
I always said she should be a teacher or child minder because she is so great with the kids but she claims to be too much of a free spirit to work indoors with children all day. I have to admit her artistic flare is fabulous and her art work is fantastic. She just has an eye for the fine detail, even in the smallest of things; her photography takes your breath away at times.
I’m quite the opposite of Leanne, I’m curvaceous with dark brown curls just past my shoulders and big blue eyes. Not in the slightest bit artistic, I’m more of a geeky bookworm.
The kids put on party songs and lay out the trays of sandwiches, mini sausage rolls and buns, passing each of us a paper plate. Leanne takes a seat next to me on the sofa. “Hey, sis, how are you keeping?” she smiles, accepting a sandwich from Holly, thanking her and tucking in.
“I'm great, thanks, Lee. Tired, we all know how kids exhaust you, but I'm not complaining.” I smile, swiping a sausage roll off the tray and biting into it.
“Pleased to hear it. Are you sure you don’t need me to have the kids to give you a break? You deserve some time off and my timetable is totally flexible.” She winks at Holly who puts two buns on her plate. “Thank you, darling, these buns look delish.”
“If you ever want to see the kids you know you can come around here anytime. The kids love to see you- you're their favorite auntie, you know,” I laugh and Leanne rolls her big blue eyes and clicks her tongue.
“I'm their only auntie, Jess. Anyway, don't you start your college course this week?” she asks while devouring a bun in two bites.
“Yeah, tomorrow, actually. I'm quite looking forward to it, getting out of this house and meeting new people, learning something new. I feel like I've been living under a rock for so long,” I mumble.
“Well, staying home and raising babies is fulfilling for some mums, Jess, but I think you've got too much upstairs to stay at home all day,” she declares, tapping a finger to my temple. “You need to do something for you for a change anyway.”
I smile and am glad someone else agrees with me and supports my choice to go back into education. I fully expected criticism, especially from Ryan, but surprisingly he said I should do what makes me happy. “Well, fingers crossed tomorrow goes well.” I smile before putting down my plate and dumping the last bun onto Leanne's, conscious of how much sugar the kids are having so close to bedtime.
After opening gifts we take the kids up to bed and Leanne reads to them. I slip downstairs to clean up the mess and a quick whip round with a black bag later it’s done. I'm giving Charlie, our golden labrador the leftovers when Leanne comes into the kitchen, singing to herself.
“Wine o'clock, sis?” she winks, swiping up a bottle of Blossom Hill and two glasses before heading back to the living room. I throw out the bin bag and join her.
“So, how are you coping lately?’’ Leanne starts as soon as I sit down. “Honestly. No 'I'm great, sis' crap. We both know how rough this last year has been for you, so tell me… are you okay?”
I give the question some real thought before answering her truthfully. “I'm fine. We kinda have a routine now and I think I've finally made peace with Ryan, accepted that it’s over and admitted to myself we're never going to get back together. I still begrudge the fact that he found it so easy to walk away. Yet, with hindsight I can see why he left. There was no way of rebuilding our relationship, it was already dead and there was nothing there anymore.” I take a sip from my glass and meet her eyes and I can see pride shining in them.
“I'm so glad you're in a good place now, Jess, I know it’s been really bleak at times but you have so much inner strength that you don't give yourself credit for.’’ She pauses and looks away. “Listen, there is something I have to tell you.”
I feel my stomach tighten with trepidation because I think I know what she is going to say.
“Just spit it out, Leanne,” I demand. I always knew this was going to happen one day.
She pulls in a breath and turns to me. “I went out on a friend’s hen night at the weekend and we hit a club in Derby. I didn't know Ryan was playing there until I saw him behind the decks. He was with some blonde bimbo.”
I nod, instantly conjuring a mental image of Ry with some woman wrapped around him- someone that isn't me. Leanne pushes my fringe out of my eyes.
“I don't know if it was just a one night stand but I saw them both at the coffee shop the next morning and they looked quite cozy… his face dropped when he spotted me. I made a point of leaving without speaking to him. I'm sorry, Jess, I couldn't not mention it, you deserve to know,” she laments and I swallow loudly before draining my glass and shuddering, I'm not sure if it’s the sharpness of t
he wine or the news of Ryan with someone else.
I give her a weak smile and shrug my shoulders. “Well, I can't say I'm surprised, you know how he has never been short of female attention. He is good looking, he was going to put it about a bit, that much was a given.”
“Are you okay? He is such a dick!” Leanne exclaims and I laugh despite my confused feelings, putting my glass down, I know that alcohol at a time like this only amplifies my emotions.
“Nah, he’s not. He’s a young, talented man with a lot to offer. We've been over for a year now, I'm sure she’s not the first, and I highly doubt she will be the last.” I try to take stock on how I actually feel; surprisingly it isn't as painful as I imagined. As long as I don't imagine him actually sleeping with her it doesn't bother me.
Sure, there’s a small stab of jealousy but I don't think that’s because I want him back. I think it’s because I haven't had time to even consider dating yet, but he’s managed to hit the town and embrace his new single status.
I frown when I picture myself on a Saturday night, in bed before 11pm and cuddling his old pillow. The penny drops as to why I do that. It’s not because I miss him, it’s because I'm lonely. The thought is saddening and I pout. I’m envious, I know it’s time for me to move on and I feel ready to get back into the dating game.
“Why does he always get the easy ride, Lee?”
“Because he’s a dick, babe; arseholes like him could fall in a bucket of shit and come out smelling of roses.” She sighs and drains her glass. “Do you think you'll ask him about her?”
I shake my head.
“Nah, it’s really none of my business now. That said if he expects to have his tarts around my kids he better be damn straight about telling me. You know, I saw a picture Holly drew of him and a blonde and I suspected something was going on. Now I know for a fact it is, I'm... I'm not really that bothered,” I admit, surprising even myself.
“You know what, sis? I'm glad. I kinda dreaded coming over tonight because I would have to fill you in but I couldn't cry off knowing the kids had all this planned for me.” She smiles, waving at the streamers and balloons still pinned on the wall. “You're doing a great job, you know, Jess. Your babies have adjusted and accepted their daddy moving out and are absolutely fantastic kids, even if I am bias.” She grins and I find myself smiling back. “They're a credit to you, sis, you're an amazing mum. Just keep doing whatever it is you're doing and good things will come your way, I just know it.”
As I fold into her hug I feel a pride rise up inside myself. It’s always nice to hear someone say you're doing a good job, especially when it’s the only thing that really matters to you. Raising my babies and creating a loving, happy home has always been paramount to me. For the first time I consider the flip side of Ryan leaving: I can finally put me before him and his career.
With Riley at Maggie's and Holly safely deposited at school, I pull into the car park at college. I've got my enrollment paperwork and a basic map of the grounds in my satchel bag and I hope I don't look too out of place in skinny jeans and brown suede wedges with a cowl neck long top.
I lock the car and pause to take in my surroundings, small groups and pairs of young students are milling around, some look as lost as me.
I locate myself on the map and see the entrance I need located on the ground floor. I take a deep breath and try to calm some of the butterflies that are doing Zumba in my stomach.
“Don't look so worried, it may seem daunting now but by the end of the month you'll have the kids eating out of the palm of your hand,” a male voice tells me and I turn to see a tall, broad shouldered man.
He has the cheekiest, most perfect white smile and a wide, square jaw line. I cannot help but smile back; he leans into his Honda Civic Type R parked next to my Ford Focus and pulls out his laptop bag. He looks back at me and I examine my brown wedges, not wanting to look him in the eye because I know I'm blushing. Not because I'm shy or timid around men, it’s because he is probably the hottest guy I have ever seen in the flesh.
Sure, Ryan is attractive- really attractive, actually- but in a 'boy next door' kind of way. This guy is glossy magazine, runway material. Not cute- damn sexy!
Out of the corner of my eye I see him round the car and I look up just as he walks past my car, he’s wearing Levis with a dark blue shirt that is open at the collar. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, just a few years older than me and has the most intense blue eyes I have ever seen in my life, rimmed with thick, dark lashes. He sports some designer stubble to match his shaggy dark hair that looks tousled at the front and just covers the tops of his ears.
The catalogue model looks at me with an expectant expression but my mouth has dried up and my tongue feels too big for my mouth. I try to swallow, pushing a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, but I haven't got a clue what he expects me to say so I just smile and am rewarded with a drop dead sexy grin in response. My heart almost stops when I see his lopsided smile produces a dimple in his left cheek, my God, this guy is divine.
Only then do I catch the scent of his aftershave on the brisk September breeze; he smells clean and expensive. “You have a great first day,” he says in his silvery tone and I nod like I'm taking instructions. He makes a start for the entrance and I mentally slap myself. “You too!” I call after him, then freeze when he looks back over his shoulder and winks.
This time my heart totally stalls, I swear I feel it stop dead in my chest and I have to lean back against the car, grinning as I examine his sexy backside. I stand there, watching him put more distance between us, turning many young ladies’ heads along the way, until he is out of sight.
I take a few settling breaths and pull myself together. I'm here to learn, not ogle the campus hotties.
I make my way inside and seek out the stairwell; I'm on the fourth floor of the business department and as much as I'm not keen on trudging up and down four flights I have never liked using lifts. I'm not claustrophobic but I'll admit I'm a bit of a germophobe and the thoughts of being in a cramped space, breathing the same air as people I don't know makes me cringe.
Up on the fourth floor I turn left to find a bank of lockers and a queue of pupils lined up against the opposite wall. I get a few glances and some expectant looks and realize this is their first day, too, and they probably assume I'm their tutor, given the age gap. I make my way to the back of the line and get a friendly smile from the only other person there that isn't in her teens. I smile back and she turns to face me.
“Hi, I'm Clarissa, or Clary.” She smiles warmly, exposing a small gap between her two front teeth. She sticks out a hand and I notice she has at least six different bangles on her wrist that clink together as I shake her hand.
“I'm Jessica, or Jess. Pleased to see I'm not the only one on the course fresh out of secondary school.” I grin and Clarissa chuckles.
“Me too. It’s a relief, isn't it?” She chuckles again, a tinkle of a laugh which suits her cherub type features and red, frizzy, fly away hair that she’s attempted to restrain with a floral head scarf.
“That’s a beautiful skirt by the way,” I compliment on the floor length, floaty, floral skirt that is the same material as her head scarf. She has a hippy kind of look going on.
“Thank you. I made it myself, I love clothes and sewing, so I dig out cheap material and attempt to fashion my own wardrobe pieces.”
“Yet you're here training in administration? Surely you should be in fashion and design?” Then a thought hits me and I feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me. “Oh, god, I'm not in the wrong part of the building, am I?” I feel myself start to blush and Clary laughs before laying a reassuring hand on my arm, shaking her head.
“No, you're in the right place, sweetie. I already took fashion and design but alas I'm not making much money out of my creations, hence why I'm here,” she chirps and the bell rings to signal the start of the day.
“Well, don't give up designing your own gear, Clary, because I would definitely we
ar your clothing line,” I assure her and she gives me a grateful smile before looking over my shoulder.
I shift to see who has just come through the doors; it turns out to be a short lady who is barely over five foot tall and must be in her late fifties. She smiles at the line of students and greets us.
“Morning, everyone. Pleased to meet you all, I'm Jill and I run the business center upstairs, which I'm sure you'll all be taking turns working in at some point during the course this year. Your regular tutor, Trent Archer, will be with us soon enough but for now you're stuck with me to fill out your enrollment forms. We'll be doing it upstairs, can you all follow me, please?” Jill smiles kindly before turning on the heel. I shrug at Clary and follow her.
The Business Center is basically a double classroom with a reception area which is already manned by efficient looking students who greet Jill like an old friend. Things have changed in schools since I left as the staff and students are on first name terms. Jill indicates we all take a seat at a computer and I bag the nearest one, Clary taking the one next to me.
There are only thirteen students in the class, including myself and Clary; two of them are young guys who have already paired up. There is a small group of girls who I suspect already know each other and are typical teens. They're wearing short shorts over tights, bright tops and way too much make up. The blonde one of the group whose hair is cut into a pixie type bob stares straight at me as she takes her seat and I smile but get a stone faced glare before she turns her back on me.
“Okay, I'm going to run you through the form really quickly, folks. I'll give you a unique student number for you to copy into the USN box, fill in the rest of your particulars and we'll finish up with a quick tour of the business centre and mail room before you go on first break. Trent will take over back in 4A after a fifteen minute break,” Jill informs us, then opens a thick lever arch file and perches on the edge of the front desk. Jill smiles before asking for Adele Andrews. Blonde pixie girl raises her hand and offers a butter-wouldn't-melt smile to Jill; I note she is actually very pretty when she isn't glaring. She writes her number down and we work our way through the list.
The Final Note (DJ Series Book 1) Page 23
