‘Yes. Take me.’ I demand, running my hands into his hair and giving it a yank.
‘Oh, I took you long ago, Mrs Ward. But right now is where it really begins.’ He kisses me hard. ‘No more digging to get beneath me. You know everything there so to know. And no more confessions because I have nothing left to tell.’
‘I think you have.’ I whisper, nuzzling into his neck and taking a hit of him in all of his fresh water, minty loveliness.
‘I do?’ he asks, carrying me into the glimmering coolness of the Med.
‘You do. Tell me you love me.’
He pulls back, green eyes sparkling, my smile gracing his perfect mouth and his dirty blonde hair a glorious, dishevelled mess with my hands tugging demandingly at it. ‘I love you so fucking much, baby.’
I smile, dropping my head back and closing my eyes as he starts spinning us in circles, the sun warming my face and his body close to mine, warming everywhere else.
‘I KNOW!’ I scream, laughing before we’re under the water and homing straight in on each other’s lips. I cling on to him like my life depends on it because it absolutely does.
* * *
This is it. This is us. This will be our normal forever and ever, no more shocking discoveries and no more confessions. His two perfect mars on his insanely perfect stomach are a constant reminder of our journey together, but the relentless gleam of happiness in his shockingly green eyes is a continuous reminder that I still have this man.
And I always will.
The End.
Epilogue
Fuck me, how long have I got to endure my home being bombarded and my wife and babies being hogged? Too fucking long, that’s how long. Hours, probably. I should snatch their gifts and throw them a piece of cake before shutting the door in their face. I smile on the inside, picturing Elizabeth’s face if I did exactly that. This is going to be painful, and to rub salt into my moody wounds, we have school friends this year, too. And their mothers—lots of women, who have taken Ava up on her offer to stay, if they would like to. And, of course, they would like to.
My stroppy feet are pounding down the staircase of our lovely little Manor, as I button up my shirt and chew my lip, thinking of any excuse to avoid this. I come up with nothing. My babies are five years old today, and not even daddy’s amazing negotiation tactics will convince them that a party is a bad idea—not now they have their own mind. I’ve tried for the last four years and fallen flat on my face, but only because my beautiful wife always intervened on their behalf. I know this year, though, if I got them alone, I could break them down with something. Skiing again, perhaps?
Hitting the bottom of the stairs, I take a quick glimpse in the mirror and smile. I get better looking every day. I’ve still got it, and she still can’t resist me. Life is fucking good.
‘Daddy!’
I spin around, and my hard muscles liquefy as I watch my baby boy running down the stairs, his dark blonde hair a tousled mess around his handsome little face. ‘Hey, birthday boy.’ His greens sparkle as he launches himself at me, the good looking little fucker. ‘Whoa!’ I laugh as he slams into me, crawling up my body.
‘Guess what?’ he asks me, eyes wide with excitement.
‘What?’ I’m not feigning interest. I really am curious.
‘Nana Lizabeth said we can sleep at her house tonight. She’s taking us to the zoo tomorrow!’
I try to conceal my scowl and match his excitement. ‘Nana Lizabeth lives too far away, and Daddy likes taking you to the zoo.’ I say, throwing him up onto my shoulders and turning back towards the mirror. ‘See how handsome we are?’
‘I know.’ he replies flippantly, making me smile. ‘Nana and pappy live ten minutes away. I timed it on mummy’s phone.’
I’m swiftly reminded that my dear mother-in-law does, in fact, live ten minutes away. The beauty of Newquay couldn’t keep Elizabeth and Joseph away from their grandchildren—or my babies, more to the point. ‘Hey, I was thinking,’ I go for subject change, or distraction tactics—whichever. ‘We should go skiing again.’ I’m speaking in a stupidly over enthusiastic voice, hoping to snare him.
‘We already are.’ His little hands rest on my forehead, covering the frown that’s just jumped into place.
‘We are?’
‘Yes, mummy said so, and she said not to listen to you if you try to put us off our party.’
My shoulders sag, and I make a mental note to deliver on one retribution fuck, the conniving little temptress. ‘Mummy needs daddy’s money to do that.’ I’m shameless.
‘Why don’t you want us to have a party, daddy?’ His little forehead matches mine in the frown department, and I instantly feel like a bag of shit.
‘I do, mate. I just don’t like sharing you.’ I admit.
‘You can play, too.’ He reaches down and kisses my rough cheek. ‘Mummy will be pleased.’
‘Why will she?’ I know why she’ll be pleased. She’s intercepted me. Make that two retribution fucks—one for her interception and one for her smugness.
‘Because you’ve not shaved.’ He rubs his palm up and down a few times, and I smile at my handsome little man before striding towards the kitchen.
I halt at the doorway and spend a few moments drinking in the sight of my angel, frantically stirring a big mixing bowl of some brown shit, the curve of her perfect arse holding me rapt. Fucking perfect. My little man doesn’t pester me to push onwards. He just sits happily on my shoulders, waiting for his spellbound father to snap back into action. He’s used to me daydreaming, especially when his mother is around. I have no fucking clue what I’ve done to deserve this woman and these beautiful kids, but I won’t be arguing with the destiny Gods.
‘Shit!’ she curses as a blob of chocolate flies up and lands on her olive cheek.
‘Mummy! Watch your mouth!’
She swigs around, armed with a wooden spoon lathered in chocolate and scowls at my grinning face before turning her big brown orbs onto our son. ‘I’m sorry, Jacob.’
My grin widens and her scowl deepens. I’m so smug, and I’ll pay for it later. She can’t play the defiant little temptress with our babies around, and I love it. ‘What you making, baby?’ I ask, lifting Jacob from my shoulders and placing him on a stool. I hand him my phone to play with before heading to the fridge and collecting a jar of Sun-Pat.
‘Peanut butter cups.’ She’s all flustered, but I’m not offering my help. She knows I’m shit at cooking, and I’m not making this easier. Next year, I’m predicting skiing.
I’m behind her, looking down into the bowl, and I’m thinking that I might stick to jars. God bless her, she’s tried a million times, but she’ll never match my mum’s famous peanut butter cups. ‘How many jars of my peanut butter have you wasted on that?’ I ask, pushing myself into her back and not missing the opportunity to feel her neck out with my lips. She smells too good.
‘Two,’ She pushes the bowl away. ‘I want Cathy back.’
I laugh and spin her around, pushing her into the worktop, the wooden spoon waving in my face. I’m firming up, damn it. I can’t help it. I lean in, as I watch her watching me, and lick her cheek clean.
‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ward.’ she whispers on a husky, alluring voice. I’m solid now.
Fucking hell!
She pushes me away on a knowing grin. ‘I need to finish. Guests will be arriving.’ She’s smug again, earning herself a third retribution fuck. She knows what she’s doing—she knows there will be no countdowns or trampling with the babies around.