by Ana Simons
“Let me introduce you to Bernie, the coolest elephant I’ve ever met. The poor fella put up with me the whole night and never complained!”
Running her hand along one of the white wooden cribs we picked last week, Olivia looks around with a tiny glint of happiness in her eyes. Then she studies the details on the large painting.
“Ah, look at the twigs and the rope! You’ve done an amazing job! And Bernie really looks adorable. Thank you.”
I return the compliment with a brief thanks while I’m checking if I have my phone with me, in my jacket. It’s not. In fact, I have no idea where it is.
After a bit, Olivia pulls her own phone out of the jeans pocket and swipes the screen before handing it to me.
“Well, it’s not one of those grand proclamations of undying love or anything, I know, and...”
Brian | Monday, December 14 | 00:22
U r the best thing in my life
Brian| Monday, December 14 | 00:33
Miss u so much.
Brian | Monday, December 14 | 00:42
Come back home and marry me goddammit
Oh shit.
“...and granted, it would never win this year’s over-the-top-marriage-proposals-prize, because it’s really dorky and kind of silly! Now call me crazy, but I thought it was kind of sweet too. And I wanted to text back yes, yes, yes, but then I thought, it’s three in the morning – the hell with it! I’m calling him anyway and put an end to this stupid argument right now. But you didn’t take any of my calls. And now you tell me you don’t remember any of it? Damn, I feel so stupid!” She nearly chokes as she races through her words. “What was I thinking? The only way you’d ask such a thing is if you’ve had a few drinks first!”
What?!
“Shhh.” There’s a lost tear running down her face as I lean down to brush a light kiss on her lips. “Get yourself a warm jacket. I’m taking you for warm pie and hot chocolate now.”
*
“This is so nerve-wracking! Why don’t you just tell me what this is all about?”
“I guess you’re about to find out,” I tease her a little when – about an hour later, and a week ahead of schedule – we arrive in Dorking and park the car in front of the Burkes’ cottage.
“God, it’s freezing,” she gasps, rubbing her hands together and huffing out a cloud of warm breath. “But aren’t we going inside first?” There’s a mixture of confusion and excitement on her face.
“No.” I tuck the woollen scarf more snugly around her neck.
“No?”
“Nope.” I leave a kiss on the top of her head and wrap one arm around her shoulders, to hold her against me as we walk down the road.
We finally pass the wooden fence and get to the fields across Hampstead Lane. On the horizon, the dimming grey sky meets the snow-covered forest behind the vast, white open land and it feels like we’ve just entered a magical, frosty winter scene.
“Remember this place?” I begin.
She looks up at me, her smile so gentle. “How could I ever forget?”
I hug her from behind, arms around her waist, and speak her softly against her cheek. “I’m sorry if I don’t remember sending you those texts. And you’re right, that was dorky. In fact, it was a crappy proposal and you deserve much more than that. But you know what they say? In wine there is truth, so you shouldn’t feel too bad about it, really.” I chuckle, a nervous chuckle, though.
“And?”
“Here’s the thing, there’s not much in my favour: I’m not very good with words, most times I have absolutely no clue what’s going on in your mind, and I can’t build you a house with my bare hands either. Or take you on some helicopter ride, or any of those extraordinary things we watch in the movies...
“So, I may not always know the right things to say, but I do know that I love you, that I respect you, and appreciate you for who you are. I know that I want to support you and be there no matter what. That I want to laugh with you and remind you every day how much I care for you. Olivia, you have me already, but will you marry me too?”
She turns and encircles her arms around me. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you,” she breathes out against my face.
“Thank you.” I hold her tightly and rock her gently, in silence, for quite a while.
Eventually, she comes up to rest her forehead against mine to whisper, “Thank you. For bringing us here, for making this place even more special.”
I drop a kiss on her temple. “Sweetheart, I adore you. I’ll try my best to make you happy. I’ll always follow you everywhere, as long as you let me come with you.”
She wipes her tears and smiles at me – a mischievous smile. “Darling, I will always let you come with me...”
The sly innuendo stops me in my tracks. “Olivia!”
She stifles a chuckle, a chuckle of pure joy, and raises a playful finger. “Just one question: will you still love me after we’ve had three kids, no sex life and I make you sleep on the couch more than once?”
“Olivia, focus! I haven’t finished yet.”
“Oh, you haven’t? Please, do continue.”
“There’s something else I want to do before we go. I’d like to take–”
“Oh, you better forget about that cake!” She keeps a smirk on her face and in her voice. Her hands begin to snake into the back pockets of my jeans and squeeze distractingly. “Because I’ll be honest with you... I just can’t stop thinking about you naked in that shower this morning. And I’m sorry, if my hands are a bit restless today – damn these hormones!”
For some crazy reason, my serious face makes her laugh even harder, out of happiness, I know. She’s just that weird. But apparently, we’re all weird anyway, and hers is one of those weirdnesses that is absolutely compatible with my own. I just love it. I know I want to hear her laughing like this forever.
“Mrs Anderson, would you be quiet for a moment? Or I’ll have to shut that pretty mouth of yours myself. With mine.”
“I want to kiss you too. So bad. All over.”
Jesus.
My mouth crashes over hers. Hard.
When the last shred of control is about to desert me, I manage to pull back and pin her down with my gaze.
“And now you stop! I’ve been planning this for weeks now and–”
“You have?” Her lips part in surprise.
I smile and brush a kiss over her brow. “–and having you rubbing yourself against me was not in the programme. You cannot touch anything. Yet.”
She keeps staring at me, confused.
I lift the back of my hand to her cheek and stroke her face, letting my fingers run over her shoulder and down her arm until I link them with hers.
“What? You’re making me nervous,” she whispers.
With my heart thudding hard against my chest, I reach into my pocket and pull out a blue velvet box.
Her hand flies to her heart. “Oh. My. God.”
And then, finally, I slowly slip the ring on her finger, while looking deeply into her eyes.
ONE YEAR LATER, ON DECEMBER 24…
EPILOGUE
GENTLE FINGERS CRAWL UP my arm to the same rhythm of the faint melody I register distantly. Ignoring the sound, I turn around to bury my head deeper into the pillow.
“Happy birthday to you.”
It’s warm, the breath that tickles my ear.
A feather-like touch caresses my hair and a soft voice echoes again through my mind, “Happy birthday Uncle Brian.”
Who’s that?
“Happy birthday to you.” A tiny hand pulls my shoulder, shaking me. “Wake up.”
What time is it?
“You sleeping?”
Struggling against the light streaming through the curtains, I open my eyes and zoom in on the image hovering over me. There’s a wide-eyed, smiling, angelic face staring back at me.
“No, sweetheart. I’m not sleeping.”
Not anymore.
I have absolutely no perception of time. Through my
drowsy haze, I check the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand.
Bloody hell, 10:45?
Everyone’s here already?
The realisation hits me as hard as the loud giggles coming from the kitchen. I’m so exhausted I didn’t even hear them coming. My mum, Sue and the kids.
Liv, why the heck didn’t you wake me up?
After our epic night together, I guess she let me lie in. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I think about it. We both deserved one night of sexy fun. After months of nappies, bottles and stumbling out of bed at the most ungodly hours, Isabella and Emily are finally sleeping through the night.
“Why you smiling like that?” Emma asks, noticing the smug expression brightening my face.
“I’m not smiling.”
“Yes, you are.”
I sit on the bed and study Emma for a moment. Then I look around. The dresser drawers are pulled open and rummaged through.
“Pumpkin, what is this?”
“Why? Am I not pretty?”
“Very.”
She’s wearing about half a dozen different bracelets on both arms and a red tinsel garland as a scarf. Her face is smudged with red lipstick and eye shadow. Hanging from her ears, Christmas baubles.
“This or that?”
Her little hand travels from her neck to the heap of sparkly scarves scattered over the bed. My eyes get side-tracked to what she’s wearing underneath all the glitter, though.
“Where did you get that?”
“The knockagoggles?” She cups the sexy, lacy blue bra Liv was wearing last night. It had probably been still lying forgotten on the floor. “Isn’t it pretty?”
“Uh-huh.” I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or kiss her on the cheek.
Throwing back the duvet, I jump out of bed and open the blinds. The fields outside are covered with snow and Milo is crazy with excitement, jumping around, sticking his head in the fluffy white stuff.
“Come on, sweetie. Let’s kiss Auntie Liv good morning and show the rest of the noisy bunch the fashion guru of the family.”
“Wait.” Before holding my hand, she rushes to get something. Liv’s high heels.
“Right. Every woman needs a pair of those.” I shake my head, controlling myself so as not to burst out in laughter.
To the sound of heels tapping and dragging on the wooden floor, I take Emma by the hand and follow the smell of baked cinnamon biscuits wafting through the house.
I find Olivia in the kitchen, multitasking by the counter, chopping carrots and making goofy faces to entertain the twins, while talking on the phone with her mum.
Isabella and Emily, who by now have already learnt to push their hands against the floor and scoot on their bums to get from here to everywhere, are strangely quiet. Too quiet.
Like they say, silence is golden. Unless you have kids, of course. Then silence is mayhem waiting to happen.
Instead of hitting, pushing, and biting they’re seated on the huge play mat placed in the middle of the room, waving back at Olivia whilst trying to stuff large cubes into small round holes. Yes, hell is about to break loose any second.
A bunch of colouring books, crayons and coloured pencils are spread haphazardly across the dinner table. Tiny clothes and naked Barbie dolls are everywhere, dumped in piles on the floor. On the TV, some kids show no one’s watching blares to itself. I have the feeling I’ve just entered a parallel universe, and am suddenly aware that the large room is incredibly small for so much baby equipment.
“Hey, stranger,” Olivia mouths at me.
“Morning. Where’s everyone?” I make Emma spin to exhibit her unique ensemble.
“Oh my God,” Liv gasps, staring at the 4-year-old with her mouth hanging open.
I tell Emma to go and play with my daughters.
“Raquel. Your daughter is doing great, I’m taking good care of her,” I speak into the mobile. “She had a blissful sleep last night,” I add, mirthfully, making sure I get a good view of the swell of Liv’s breasts as she swats me away.
I head to fill myself a cup of coffee – with a troublemaker smile playing on my face and three fingers waggling triumphantly up in the air. Three times. I took her to the promised land three times last night.
Olivia hangs up a few beats later. Then, shaking a pretend scolding finger, “You’re a right show-off, you know.”
“Uh-huh.” I let my eyes travel up the length of her body, last night’s memories making me stop at her cleavage, my body reacting to my wild imagination, to all the things I still want to do to her later tonight.
“What you’re looking at, boy?”
“Your eyes, babe,” I say, staring at her breasts as if hypnotised.
She shakes her head, amused. “The flight went fine, but they won’t be here for a couple of hours. Some last-minute shopping. Sue and your mum went to town; Mattie and Marianne are with them.”
“God, you’re hot. I should seduce you and make you marry me.”
“I’ve got the hots for you too, stranger. Trouble is, I’m already married.” Olivia waves her left hand, displaying her wedding ring.
A smile of pure joy breaks out at the warm, fluttering sensation every time I remember she’s indeed my wife already. Yes, I married this woman. Last summer. Right here, in the Surrey Hills.
“What were you and your mum talking about? I saw you giggle. That nervous giggle of yours.”
“What? No.” She’s obviously dodging my question.
“What did she tell you?”
“That you should always be kind to me. That you should move your cute British arse over here and give me a proper kiss.”
Which I do. I wrap my arms around Olivia’s waist and kiss her on the lips, my hand discretely searching for the hem of her dress to pull it up and caress her thighs. “But I’m always kind to you, Mrs Anderson. Wasn’t I so generous last night?” I kiss her on the neck. “Because I’m a man of his word, who promised to always be by your side. Or under you. Or on top. You decide.”
“Yeah, you’re very kind.” She taps me on the bottom. “Kinda hot, kinda sexy.”
A smug smirk touches her lips. “And you’re a naughty little devil, aren’t you?” I whisper against her cheek before I pull back and narrow my eyes at her, “You’re hiding something, girl.”
She strokes my back in response, a hesitant smile peeking through her lips. “Where’s Josh?”
“I don’t know. Outside playing with Milo? You okay? You don’t look okay.”
“Well, I couldn’t sleep last night…” she explains trying to be funny.
“Oh, you didn’t sleep well?” I press my body against hers and kiss her hard on the lips. “Why? Having Christmas jitters?”
“You’re going to freak out.”
“Doubt that. I’ve got no intention of letting anything or anyone ruin this day.”
“Isabella, Emily and I have a birthday present for you. The little red bag over there.” Smiling nervously, Olivia points at the Christmas holiday gift bag placed on the mantel.
“Oh, a surprise. Nice. What have the three of you been up to, huh?” Unsuspicious, I cross the open plan room ready to check the mysterious bag.
Next to it, a black and white picture of us, on our wedding day. Then staring back at me, the framed photograph of my dad with a sort of sheepish smile warming his features. I stop to glance at it for a beat.
Meeting his granddaughters and attending our wedding were his last wishes; I’m so grateful he still had the chance to live those moments. Since he left us, only a few weeks after our wedding, not a single day has gone by that I don’t miss him. Him and the future we will not have together.
The front door cracks open. Josh enters the house stomping snow from his shoes. After taking off his gloves and beanie cap, he joins us, his shoulders slumped, his face rather sad.
“Hey, champ!” I ruffle his hair a little. “Everything all right?”
He shakes his head, but not very convincingly.
I
tilt his chin up. “Hey, what’s up?”
“The sky.”
“You trying to get smart with me?”
He shrugs, then throws himself on the sofa. With his legs crossed, he begins to play some video game. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, looking up with inquisitive eyes. “They keep telling kids Santa comes on a sleigh to deliver presents, but I think that’s a load of crap.”
Over the rim of my coffee cup, Olivia’s stare meets mine. ‘Oh sod,’ we tell each other in silence.
“Who told you such nonsense?” Olivia asks.
“No one. But I’m not daft. Come on, look at the reindeer. Do they have wings? Don’t think so. So how can they fly? You’re bullshitting kids! Santa must come in a car, a bus or whatever.”
Olivia nods almost too emphatically. “You’ve got a good point there. I wonder why no one thought of that before.”
His eyes dart from me to the fireplace and back again. “So, what’s in the bag?”
“I was about to check it out.” Another sip and I place the coffee cup on the mantel. Then a quick peek inside before I fish a red fleece item out.
A mini Santa costume?
On the back, a #MyDaddyRocks sticker.
I throw a puzzled glance Liv’s way. She’s smiling, but also fidgeting, twirling her wedding ring on her finger.
Okay.
Thank you?
I look inside the bag again, looking for some note to help me crack the riddle.
Nothing.
“Shall I hang it on the tree or something?” I ask.
“Where are babies before they’re born anyway?” Josh asks at the same time.
“Why don’t you ask Auntie Liv? Her job is to deliver babies after all.” I say, keeping my gaze fixed on her face.
“Ben says we’re all swimming in our dad’s balls. Is that right?”
Why? Why do conversations with this kid always end up in the weirdest places?
I throw Olivia a desperate help-me-out glance. She grins back, a sort of wicked smile, and shakes her head amused, giving me a you’re-on-your-own wink.
“You know, before a baby is… conceived, there are different kinds of cells – you’re going to learn all about it in school. Mums have what they call egg–”