by T L Swan
Joshua hangs up, undoes his seatbelt and slides over next to me. He puts his arm around me and pulls me into him and my tears drop onto his suit. No words are needed between us; he knows the only reason I get sad. He knows it’s the only thing he can’t fix in my world. If he could, I know he would. He gently kisses my forehead and stays silent. The sad truth is my wedding day is going to be the happiest day of my life but it will also be one of the saddest days in my life and there is not a thing that we can do about it. I imagine all brides must feel like this when they have lost a parent.
After ten minutes I pull back and wipe my eyes. “Sorry,” I whisper as I shake my head. What’s happening to me? “We just bought wedding rings. I should be happy.”
He smiles gently as his eyes hold mine. “Don’t ever apologise to me for being emotional. It’s the emotion in you that I love.”
I smile softly and kiss him as I grab his jaw and run my thumb backwards and forwards through his stubble as my eyes search his. “I love you,” I whisper, grateful for this beautiful man who knows me so well.
He smiles. “I know you do.”
“I don’t mean to be sad,” I whisper into his neck.
“I know you don’t.” He smiles and picks up my hand and kisses the back of it. “We can go home—the house has been cleared and the detectives have given us the go ahead,” he replies.
I nod. “Oh.” For some reason I feel slightly dejected. I wanted another night in our hotel room with just the two of us. Maybe he’s right and we should move to an apartment somewhere for a while.
“I told them we wouldn’t be back for a few days. I want you to myself some more.” he whispers as his lips kiss my cheek.
My overly emotional eyes tear up again because he can read my mind so well. “Thank you,” I whisper gratefully.
He pushes the hair from my forehead as he looks at me. “I think that it’s you who needs to be spoiled for a while, my beautiful girl.”
I smile shyly as my fragility hits home. “Maybe I do,” I whisper.
True to Joshua’s promise I have been just that, spoiled rotten. We have stayed at the hotel for an extra five days in our own little love cocoon. Joshua has been dealing with the paternity news and me… well… I don’t know, but for some reason buying those wedding rings on Monday has opened a can of worms and had me thinking all about my father and his absence from my life. I’m sad to my bones that both Joshua and I have lost what we have always known. Things will be forever different from here on. Joshua and I are healing each other; we have talked for hours and hours. From deep, deep soul-searching conversations to the mechanics of female contraception. I actually think he’s a better therapist than me and this is exactly what we have needed: time alone to regroup. Unfortunately our love bubble finishes today. Joshua is at the gym and then returning to take me to our home. Today he has to make a decision on what he is going to do about James Brennan. The asshole hasn’t returned the money, exactly as I thought. Thankfully though, our long daily discussions have made Joshua much better prepared to deal with the situation than he was last week. My phone rings, the name Brock lights my screen and I smile. I have been trying to get him all week but I have had to wait for him to call me back from Afghanistan. My nerves flutter in my stomach—this is an important conversation.
“Hello, Brock.” I smile.
“Hi, Tash,” he replies softly, and then a silence falls on the line.
I’m just going to come out and say it: “Brock, I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” A lump in my throat forms. “I miss having you in my life.”
He sighs. “Tash.”
“Joshua makes me so happy, Brock, and I know you two have had your issues but that’s because you are so alike.” I blurt the words out in a rush to get them off my chest.
“We are nothing alike,” he snaps coldly.
“Brock, I love both of you and I know both of you. You are alike whether you want to admit it or not.”
He stays silent as he listens.
“He’s going through a lot right now,” I whisper.
“Like what?” he asks.
I puff out my cheeks in nerves. “He has just found out that Robert is not his biological father.”
“What?” he replies.
My heart drops and I nod. “It’s true,” I whisper. “Margaret had an affair and I killed our father for nothing,” I add through tears.
“Tash, you didn’t kill Dad. Stop it. I don’t want you thinking that,” he replies quietly.
I am silent as the tears run down my face and I swipe them angrily from my face. “You said that I killed him,” I then blurt out, silently angry that he said that to me at such a dark time in my life.
“Tash, I didn’t mean that shit. I was being a fucking idiot. I don’t even know what I was saying back then.”
I stay silent as I listen.
“You’re not cousins,” he replies and I can hear him deep in thought.
I shake my head. “No we are not.” And I feel excitement rise a little in my stomach now that he knows the truth.
“Doesn’t change anything. I still can’t stand him,” he mutters.
My heart drops. “Brock, I swear to you on Mum’s life that when we were young I wanted this relationship just as much as he did. He never pushed himself onto me. Not once. Brock, we fell in love and we couldn’t help it.”
He stays silent.
I need to get him on my side. “I’m so happy, Brock. He adores me and he treats me so well,” I continue.
“He’s a womaniser, Natasha,” he mutters.
I shake my head. “Brock, no, he’s not. I mean he was, but he isn’t anymore.” I screw up my face as I hear how that would have sounded. God, I’m blowing it. “He loves me and spends all of his time trying to make me happy. You know we are getting married, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, Mum told me,” he replies flatly.
I bite my bottom lip in nerves. “Will you give me away, Brock?”
“Tash.” He sighs, defeated.
“Please,” I beg. “I need your approval.” My tears start to form. “I love him so much and we are so happy. I wouldn’t be with him if he didn’t treat me well. You know that deep down.”
He stays silent.
“I know you’re finished your deployment in four weeks. Can you come straight here to LA and spend some time with Joshua and me? Mum is coming over for the wedding and Bridget is here. We need to regroup as a family, Brock. This is a special time. Please don’t let Dad’s death destroy our family—it is not what he would have wanted. He would want us to be happy and getting along.” Tears overflow from my eyes.
He cuts me off. “I thought you were getting married in Thailand?”
I smileHe stays silent. “Let me think about it.” He sighs.
I smile broadly. At least he’s thinking about it. “I love you,” I reply.
“I love you too.” He sighs again.
“I swear to god if he hurts you, Natasha,” he threatens.
I smile again. “I don’t know much in this fucked-up world, Brock, but I know one thing with every cell in my body. Joshua Stanton will never ever hurt me. He is my soulmate and we are deeply in love. We are so happy, I promise.”
“Oh god, that’s pathetic,” he responds and I can hear him smiling. I know I’ve got him.
“So I will see you in four weeks?” I ask hopefully.
“I’ll see,” he mutters but I know that’s a yes.
“Bye Brock. Please be safe over there.” I put my hand over my heart as relief fills me.
“Goodbye, Tash, you too.”
I’ve worked it out. Yep, Albert Einstein has finally figured it out. The reason Joshua and I like small spaces and apartments is because we are in the same vicinity as each other. This house is so big that even the distance from the kitchen to his office is miles apart. I feel like he’s not even home half the time. I have just got off the phone from Adrian, Cameron and the girls. I’m cooking dinner tonight for everyo
ne and today I had an epiphany. If I’m going to be a Stepford wife… ahem… Stanton wife to be exact, I’m going to be damn good at it. I’m going to bake cookies and shit… like Martha Stewart on crack. I am lying on the bench reading through Birgetta’s recipe books.
“What about Lobster Vol au Vent?” I call out to Joshua who is reading the paper while lying on the lounge.
He flicks the paper down and looks over the top of it. “Really—Vol au Vent?” He frowns. “Keep reading,” he replies dryly.
Hmm, I keep turning through the pages looking for something that is relatively easy to make but tastes really difficult to make—the ultimate sensory illusion. I narrow my eyes. “This cooking is tricky business, you know?” I mutter.
Joshua puts the paper down and smirks. I smile and raise my eyebrows in question. Crap, I’m shit at this already. He wisely holds his tongue and goes back to his paper.
“What about Beef Ragu?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrows again in question.
I shrug. “I just feel like something meaty,” I add.
He smirks. “Whatever takes your fancy, presh. Meaty is… different I suppose.”
Hmm, I hate it when they say whatever. I need a decision so I have someone to blame if it turns out shit.
Joshua’s phone beeps a text on the bench and I pick it up and read it. It’s from Ben.
Are you and Natasha free to have a meeting with Max and me now?
Hmm. “It’s Ben. He wants to know if we can meet with Max and him,” I call out as I read the message.
Joshua looks at me deadpan and I smile a little too sweetly and fake-bat my eyelashes.
“Fine,” he mutters.
I text back.
Sure. Come in now.
So here we sit around the dining table: Joshua, Ben, Max and me.
Ben is the first to speak. “So I think we just need to air out this situation and work out if you two can work together because Natasha and I are tired of being the meat in the sandwich.” His eyes flick to me and I stifle a smile and look at the ground. Ben’s being tough and has obviously gone over this conversation in his head.
Joshua inhales deeply as his eyes bore into Max. Shit. I interject.
“Joshua, I would like Max to keep being my guard. He was very good to me and my family after my father died and we became friends,” I announce.
Joshua runs his tongue over his top teeth as his eyes flick to Max again as he thinks.
Ben’s eyes flick between the two men who are staying silent. “I think that Max has crossed a line and, Joshua, because you are unwilling to forgive it is damn uncomfortable around here,” Ben contributes.
Max crosses his arms angrily in front of him. “Don’t tell me if you were guarding Natasha that you would have left her alone in another country, Ben. That’s complete bullshit and you know it.”
Ben scratches his head uncomfortably.
“I wanted you to bring her to me,” Joshua snaps.
I screw up my face. Hello, I’m sitting right here. “Joshua, Max tried repeatedly to get me to go back to you and when I refused he had no choice. He had to make a decision to guard me or know that I was going to run off the first chance I got and be alone,” I reply.
Joshua’s angry eyes turn to me and I wither under his glare.
“What exactly has bought this to a head?” Ben asks.
Oh god, he had to bring that up didn’t he?
“I will not have him pawing Natasha,” Joshua sneers.
Ben frowns and Max rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair in disgust.
“I don’t paw her,” he snaps.
“What’s with walking around my house with your arm around her then?”
I frown. Oh god, this conversation is turning to shit.
Max shakes his head in frustration. “We were talking and I didn’t realise I was doing it. We are friends.”
Joshua sits forward in his chair. “Well I realise you are doing it and I don’t fucking like it.” His angry eyes hold Max’s.
I hold up my hands in a stop signal. “Let’s just calm down, shall we. Joshua, Max puts his arm around me because I have set the precedent. I often link arms with him as we walk or talk, or I will grab his hand if we are crossing a busy road. It’s how I am with people I trust and it means nothing. I would do the same to Ben or Adrian or Cameron,” I reply.
My eyes flick to Ben and he frowns slightly as if to say leave me out of this and I nearly break into a smile.
“Let me make this clear to you, Natasha,” Joshua sneers as he leans into the table in anger. “I will not have my wife’s security guard touching her in any way. So you and Max make the decision right now because I can tell you if I catch him with his arm around you again it will be fucking Armageddon.”
“Joshua,” I snap—talk about an over-reaction.
Max shakes his head in frustration.
“Fine, but I only want Max as my guard,” I assert.
Joshua’s eyes flick to me again. “Why? he is part of the team that looks after us and you should be happy to have whichever guard is assigned to you.”
I roll my eyes as my anger starts to pump. “Assigned to me?” I repeat. Who in the hell does he think he is?
“Yes, assigned to you,” Joshua snaps as his eyes hold mine. “This is my household and these are my staff.”
“Well this is just fucking great, isn’t it?” I snap. “I choose Ben then, asshole.”
Joshua narrows his eyes. “Ben is my guard. He is unavailable,” he replies.
I shake my head. “Nope, if I don’t get to pick my guard you sure as shit don’t get to pick yours. You can hang out with the losers that you expect me to.”
“Um, excuse me,” Ben interjects, sensing that this conversation is turning into a power trip for both Joshua and me.
“No offence, but I am not guarding you, Natasha. I am staying with Stan and Max is staying with you. We are both happy with our designated roles.”
My eyes flick back to Joshua who folds his arms in front of him as his eyes flick to Max. “I understand the terms and I am happy with them. I will be guarding Natasha when you are at work and will not be over-friendly or inappropriate at any time,” Max replies flatly as his eyes flick to me. I smile gratefully at him.
Joshua stays still and silent as he thinks. I know he wants to get rid of Max and we are railroading him but I don’t care. Max doesn’t deserve to be fired for protecting me and in the long-term future this will all be forgotten.
“Max is the best guard we have. If you want Natasha to be safe and protected you need someone experienced that she likes and you know that.”
Joshua nods as he drops his head and looks at the ground, sensing that he is losing this battle.
Joshua’s eyes meet Max’s. “Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful that your loyalty lies with Natasha but you need to understand that this is a family unit now and not me against her or her against me. I need to know that all of my staff are on the same page and there is no underhandedness between us.”
For the first time Max smiles. “I understand that and I am very happy that this is turning into a family unit. You have my word that you can trust me and I will do what’s right for everyone in future and not just Natasha,” he replies.
Joshua nods and his lips show a hint of a smile. “Thank you, “ he replies softly.
Max stands and holds his hand out and Joshua stands and they shake. An over-the-top smile beams from my face and I jump out of my chair. What I really want to do is cuddle all three of them but I am going to stick to this over-friendly thing so I punch Ben in the arm instead and he smiles warmly. That went really well if I do say so myself.
It’s 7 pm. Dinner is on and our friends will be here soon. Between us, Joshua and I have deciphered the recipe for Fettuccine Carbonara. I took the easy way out and picked the simplest recipe I could find. Joshua is sending a few emails before they get here and I am lying on the lounge in his office. All this Martha Stewart stuff has
made me tired before the guests even get here.
A soft knock sounds on the office door. We both look up and my heart sinks. Robert Stanton, Joshua’s father, stands in the doorway, wearing a suit and an obvious broken heart. Joshua, who is sitting behind his desk, immediately drops his head as tears flow from his eyes. I bring my hand up to my neck as I am overcome with emotion.
“Hello, son,” Robert whispers.
Chapter 16
Robert stands still as he waits for Joshua’s reaction but Joshua’s head stays down. A lump in my throat forms, blocking my vocal cords. I’ve never seen my beautiful Joshua so gutted.
“Come and hug your old man,” Robert says quietly.
Joshua brings both of his hands over his face and the tears drop onto my cheeks.
Silence and time seem to stand still.
Robert walks into the room. “Joshua, look at me,” he whispers.
Joshua’s haunted tear-filled eyes meet his.
“It’s ok, son,” he whispers.
Joshua screws up his face as he fights the tears, then he shakes his head and wipes his face angrily.
“It’s ok—it changes nothing,” Robert continues softly, sensing his son’s distress.
Joshua stands furiously. “It changes everything. I’m not your son,” he yells as he breaks into full-blown tears. “I’m not your fucking son,” he sobs. “My whole life is a lie.”
I hold my hand up to my mouth as pity and hurt fill me. Oh dear god, he’s so hurt.
“Don’t you dare say that,” Robert replies. “I love you and you will always be my son.”
I sob loudly and screw up my face as I try to hold in my tears.
“I don’t give a damn what blood type you have. You are my son! Do you hear me? I will not let a blood test determine that!” he whispers.