by Alam, Donna
‘Fuc—’ I glance down. ‘Fudge a duck.’
‘I don’t think we need to start worrying about swearing in front of him just yet,’ Kai says with a half-smile.
I ignore him. It’ll probably take me a couple of years to get out of the habit. Best start now. ‘What did he want?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I dunno, maybe to take my baby because I couldn’t guess his name?’ Kai looks confused. Not a big fan of fairy-tales, then. ‘Then maybe to introduce you to wife number two?’
‘I have my hands full with the one I’ve got.’ Despite the serious note in his voice, his eyes fall to my boobs again. Not surprising, they’re so large they’re probably eligible for their own postcode.
‘They’ll go back to normal, you know.’
‘What will?’ Innocence. I really don’t know why he even tries.
With a twist of my mouth, I glance down. ‘Porn boobs.’
‘According to the multitude of baby books you’ve amassed, they’ll be here for a while yet, so I’ll just be over here waiting my turn.’
‘Yes, but Faris. What did he say?’
‘He asked to meet his grandson.’
Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Another one of Niamh’s lines; one she stole from Rob, no doubt. And I really don’t want to know if she has . . . buttered his butt. Metaphorically, or otherwise.
‘We haven’t seen him since the wedding, and he rocks up now?’ And what a lovely reason he had for turning up that day, seeing fit to advise Kai he’d found a loophole in our Australian marriage; suggesting he use it once he’d tired of playing house. Quite the charmer.
‘I’ve seen him. You know that. We work from the same building, after all.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘Oh, I feel it,’ he says, sounding utterly unconvinced. ‘What would you like me to tell him?’
‘Tell him . . .’
Taking a deep breath, I attempt to calm my tits. Figuratively, at least, because physically, there’s no calming these bad boys. Or should that be girls? My gaze moves from Kai’s careful expression to the bundle in my arms.
Dubai was supposed to be my do-over, my chance to start again. And like Niamh says, I don’t seem to do things by halves. Kai, marriage, and Adam apart, it’s amazing what you actually discover when you’re trying to find yourself. Things like it’s okay to admit you like a bit of slap with your tickle, and that it’s not just bad girls who take it up the bum.
Seriously though, I thought my family was complicated, but I’m beginning to see, although on the spectrum of familial weirdness, my olds are scaled pretty low.
And now I have my own family: one healthy baby—seal black hair, slightly bruised and battered, but less alien looking than a few hours ago—and one handsome, besotted and, quite frankly, a little kinky, spouse. What else matters? Could I say Faris is to have nothing to do with our son? Absolutely, and I know Kai would allow me to make that call. Kai may see his father in the course of work, but I know that’s the limit of their interactions right now. The man has done nothing to earn the right to be in our lives, but part of me feels in taking that kind of stance, I would be no better than him.
The sins of the father, and all that.
Kai’s pocket begins to vibrate.
‘Seriously? Your phone is switched on?’ I suppose I’d better check it for unflattering photos at some point.
‘Actually, it’s yours.’ Kai brings out the offending item, exchanging it for Adam which isn’t a fair swap, as far as I’m concerned.
Thankfully, it’s set to silent as I still haven’t worked out how to get rid of that awful song Kai set as my ring tone.
‘It’s from Niamh,’ I say sheepishly, as he settles the bundle into the crook of his arm. ‘She says Rob is booking a flight to Dublin.’
‘Good. Maybe he’s seen sense,’ he replies without looking up. ‘He’s missing all the fun.’
‘She says he’s flying into London, and has asked for the name of a reputable airline for the London-Dublin leg.’
‘There are a few,’ Kai says, still studying his son. Besotted is normal, right?
‘She’s told him to go to one of the desks and ask for annilingus.’
‘Aer Lingus?’
‘What do you think?’
Raising his head, a wide smile spreads over his face. ‘That woman is nuts.’
She’s not the only one, it seems.
‘Kai, tell your dad he can visit. Once we’re home.’ After he and I have had a little chat.
More By Donna
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More titles by Donna
The following are standalone titles in a relating world and can be read in any order
One Hot Scot
Two Wrongs
One Dirty Scot
Single Daddy Scot
Hot Scots Christmas
Hot Scots Boxed Set
Spin of novels from the same world
Easy
Hard
In Like Flynn
Soldier Boy
Playing His Games
Acknowledgements
For M
If it takes a village to raise a child, then I need to move to a village. Thank you to my children for being okay with being told ‘in a minute’ and discovering the inevitable . . . minutes are sooo long in this household. Thanks also for not being too loud in your flouncing off after receiving a series of hmm’s and whassat? in response to your need to converse.
Thanks also—but not limited to—Kelsey from Kelsey’s Korner Blog. It’s funny who you find on your doorstep! To Natasha (and her Ralph) for being so supportive and honest, even if her first instinct was to bite her tongue. (Don’t do that. Never do that!) Nan for being my very first sounding board. Jess for allowing me to pick her brains, and Kathie for her awesome eagle eyes in editing.
And more recently, thanks to Elizabeth and Lisa for championing this one. Shukran. Merci. Ta very much!
Thanks also to the Lambs and to the person holding this in their hand. I do hope you’ve enjoyed!
About the Author
Donna writes dirty stories, according to her family. She hopes you find them funny, too. When not bashing away at a keyboard, she can usually be found hiding from her family and responsibilities with a good book in her hand and a dog that looks like a mop by her feet. She likes her humour and wine dry, her mojitos sweet, and her language salty.