Of all the things she remembers, it’s that. ‘Typical,’ I mutter, feigning sulkiness when I’m actually fucking ecstatic. ‘And watch your mouth, Ava.’ She’s dropped enough f-bombs in the past two minutes to kill me off.
‘I will not.’ Her lips leave mine, and her face appears above me, veiled by her damp locks. The smile on her face is enough to make a grown man weep. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re thirty-fucking-seven!’
I fucking wish. ‘I hate to break it to you, baby, but I haven’t been thirty-fucking-seven for a long time.’
‘I don’t care.’ She blinks, once, twice, and then rapidly, stilling above me, her smile falling. ‘You were mad. And then I’m mad. Why was I mad?’
My lips press together when she casts her eyes back to mine. I know exactly why she was mad. ‘Maybe because you thought John freed me, when it was actually Sarah.’
‘Another woman saw you naked and handcuffed to the . . .’ She fades off, blinking again. ‘Wait, why am I handcuffed to the bed?’
Jesus, she’s suffering a serious bombardment. I reach for her left hand and lift it between us, pointing at her ring. Reminding her. ‘This, maybe?’ I already told her the story of my proposal. She forgot?
‘You can’t propose when I’m handcuffed to the bed!’ she sings, thrilled.
‘Wrong,’ I counter, and she looks at me, all care for the fact Sarah freed me gone. She’s smiling. ‘I could, I would, and I did.’
‘You’re a case, Jesse Ward.’
‘And that’s just one of the reasons why you love me.’ I refrain from saying loved. ‘Tell me more.’ I roll us a little, taking her to the grass so she’s on her side facing me. ‘What else is there? What else do you remember?’ I’m hungry for more, anything more.
I can see the effort it takes her to think, trying to pluck more memories from the black pit that is her mind, and I’m quick to stop her, placing a hand over her hip so she looks at me. I don’t want her straining. ‘Don’t force it. More will come.’
‘I want them now.’ Her whiny voice and slumped body make me smile. I’d love them all now, too, but patience is a virtue and all that bollocks. Which is a joke, coming from me. But, for the sake of Ava and my sanity, I mustn’t push her more than she’s already trying to push herself. If anything, I should take comfort in the fact that she desperately wants to find me in that mixed-up head of hers.
‘Come.’ I get us up and sling an arm around her shoulders, snuggling her close. ‘That’s enough exertion for one day.’ Her mind and her body must be beat.
I walk her back into the house, following the sound of my ringing phone. I can’t disguise my tenseness when I see the number, because I just know who it is.
‘You okay?’ Ava asks, looking up at me with concern.
‘Just a sales number.’ I reject the call and block the number.
Done. I can’t risk Sarah knocking Ava off her high. Too much progress has been made today. Great progress.
I’m feeling hopeful, and dirt from my past isn’t going to tarnish it.
Chapter 32
I open my eyes the next morning to Ava beaming at me from where she’s lying on her side, mirroring me. Her hand is on my hip. Mine on hers. ‘What’s got you so happy at this time of the morning? Because I’m yet to put my cock inside you.’
She chuckles, moving in closer until her breath is spreading across the skin of my chest. ‘I love watching you sleeping. You look so angelic.’
I smile sleepily and close my eyes again, wrapping an arm around her naked back and pulling her closer. ‘Angelic? You mean godly, right?’
‘Right. And I’m happy I remembered something.’
She’s on a high, so happy with herself, just for remembering that small thing. I forbid myself to dwell on the fact that she might not be so thrilled when everything else comes back to her, the good, the bad, and the downright fucking hideous. It’s kind of crazy. On the one hand, I’m willing the memories forward, begging they come to her. On the other, I’m dreading it. Part of me is hoping they continue to drip through, little bit by little bit, giving her a chance to grasp it all, rather than them flooding back and probably sending her head into chaos.
‘Is that your phone?’
I frown, listening. ‘I must have left it downstairs.’ She’s out of my arms speedily, and I’m not too pleased about it. ‘Hey!’
‘It might be the kids.’ Her naked back disappears out the door, her urgency hampered by that lingering limp.
On a groan, I drag myself up, not bothering with any boxers, and make my way downstairs. I find her with the phone to her ear. ‘That FaceTime thing isn’t working,’ she says down the line, her fingers in her hair.
I grin when I look down her naked body, grabbing the coffee down from the cupboard. ‘Put it on loudspeaker,’ I demand.
‘Hey, Dad!’ Jacob sings, followed by Maddie.
‘Hey.’ I grab the cups down and Ava fetches the milk. ‘You missing us?’
‘A little.’ Maddie sniffs, and I smile. ‘Nan said we’re coming home on Monday.’
‘That’s right.’ I look at Ava and see she smiles to herself. ‘What have you two been up to?’ Don’t ask about the boy. Don’t ask about the boy.
‘I’ve been shell hunting on the beach with Hugo,’ Maddie declares, bold as fucking brass, almost proud, because she knows she’s well out of trampling distance. I grind my teeth and throw a glare at Ava, one that suggests she should take the reins before our daughter ruins my mood.
She takes the phone quickly and walks off, getting herself away from my bristly presence. Hugo. Fucking Hugo. ‘That’s nice, darling. What about you, Jacob? Caught any more fish?’
‘A twelve-pounder today, Mum!’ He sounds so excited. Why can’t Maddie find something she’s passionate about – something other than boys?
They chat happily for a while as I busy myself with the coffee, and then she says her goodbyes, a sad edge to her voice. I look up as she disconnects and sighs. She’s falling into despondency. I need to distract her.
‘Hey, eyes up here, baby.’ They instantly flick up and find me. ‘I have a surprise for you.’
‘Oh yeah?’ She gives a cheeky grin as she places the phone down and wanders over to me, and it fills my heart with all kinds of feel-good shit.
‘You have a one-track mind, lady.’ And I’m so fine with that, but for today I have a date planned.
Resting her hand on my chest, she beams up at me. ‘Is it any wonder?’ Her hands stroke down toward my . . .
‘Whoa!’ I laugh, quickly snatching her hand, stopping it from making it to my already growing cock. I’ll be doomed. Shit, where the hell is this resistance coming from? ‘Stop it.’
I sit her on a stool, smiling at her pouting face. She shrugs. ‘I can’t help it. I only have to look at you and—’
‘You’re wet. I know,’ I finish for her confidently, and massively smug. ‘You’ll get used to it.’ I flash her a wicked smile.
‘So what’s my surprise if it isn’t that?’
‘I’m taking you shopping for a new dress.’
‘What for?’
‘Drew and Raya’s engagement party on Saturday.’
Her eyes light up a little, but very quickly fade. Then they narrow. I know what’s coming. I’m prepared for it. ‘Do I get to pick the dress?’
‘Nope.’ I smile, smug, and head to get some more coffee.
‘I don’t think so,’ she retorts indignantly.
‘I do.’
‘No way.’
I turn and find her strutting out of the kitchen, her long hair swaying across her naked back. ‘I’ll find something in my wardrobe, thank you very much.’
‘Think again, lady,’ I yell after her, smiling. And because I feel like reinforcing my authority around these parts, I yell some more. ‘End of!’
Chapter 33
I’m watching her trawling through her dressing-room rails in search of a dress, anything she can wear for a posh engagement party at Café Royal. She has plenty of options, loads of beautiful gowns and dresses, mostly lace . . . she just can’t see them. Because I hid them while she was in the shower.
‘Found anything?’ I ask casually as I slip on my white Ralph Lauren polo shirt, flipping the collar up a bit too cockily as I inspect my fresh face in the mirror.
Slowly, she turns to face me, her eyes raging as I spritz myself with her favourite cologne. ‘What have you done with them?’
‘What?’ I ask past my reflection, all innocent. I’m not fooling her. She’s been through her wardrobes enough since she was discharged to realise there are piles of things missing. Namely, anything she could wear for an engagement party.
Pointing back to one of her wardrobes, her jaw goes all tight. ‘All my dresses are gone.’
I turn and crane my neck, feigning interest as I look past her to the sparse wardrobe. ‘That’s a damn shame. Then we’ll have to go buy you a new one.’
‘You’re impossible.’ Nostrils flaring, she grabs a pair of jeans and yanks them up her legs before throwing, quite literally, a shoulderless top over her head. ‘How have I lived like this for so many years?’
Baseball bat, meet my stomach. I very nearly launch into a rant and remind her that she loves me choosing her clothes, yet the shred of reason I have holds me back. Because I’m not dealing with my wife, per se. I’m dealing with the woman I met who fought me at every turn. Yet I was a lot younger then, had more energy. And though I felt the stakes were high, they weren’t quite on this level. My reason is fraying fast. ‘There’s no fucking need for that,’ I snap, turning on my heels and walking away before I lower both our moods further and lose my head. ‘I just want to buy you a new dress. So fucking kill me,’ I growl at thin air as I stalk towards the stairs. Just a fucking dress. A simple fucking dress.
‘Jesse,’ she calls after me, appearing across the landing when I reach the top of the stairs. I glower, and she sighs. ‘I’d love it if you were to buy me a dress.’ She’s pacifying me. Good. I need it. ‘Any dress you choose.’
‘Any?’ With no argument from her at all? There must be a catch.
‘Any.’ She pushes the confirmation through her tight jaw with a ton of effort.
My smile isn’t victorious, just genuinely happy. She’s flexing. It’s a huge step in the right direction, a step closer to the dynamics of our relationship that keep me calm. ‘Your Punishment Fuck is cancelled.’ I extend my hand in offer, and on a small shake of her head, she comes to me. ‘See how happy you make me when you comply?’
Her quiet laugh as we take the stairs together only increases my happiness. ‘Why can’t you just graciously accept my gesture and not be such an arrogant, unreasonable twat about it?’
‘Because me being an arrogant, unreasonable twat is all part of our normal.’ Grabbing my keys from the cabinet and handing Ava her bag, I walk us to the car. ‘I’d be a fraud if I tried to pass myself off as anything less.’ I open the car door and sweep my arm out in gesture. ‘My lady.’
Resting her forearm on top of the door, she sits her chin on it, eyeing me up. ‘So basically our normal is you throwing your orders around and me obeying?’
‘If the shoe fits.’
‘What if it doesn’t?’
I dip and startle her with a forceful, lingering kiss on her lips. ‘Oh, but it does, lady. And I know you feel it deep inside you. Stop fighting it.’ She’ll never stop fighting it. And I don’t want her to. She keeps me on my toes, as I keep her on hers. It might send me wild, but every pound of my heart when we’re sparring with words is the sign I need to tell me that I am alive and she is with me.
*
The boutique I chose is the very one I followed Ava to all those years ago, the one where she bought that wretched dress that I cut off her body some days later. My choice isn’t an accident. I’m hoping it might nudge something for her, anything to give me another rush of contentment when she remembers something.
The store is full of endless suitable options. Yet Ava seems to be passing each and every one of them up. ‘I like this one.’ She pulls out a micro cream thing, not too dissimilar to the poor excuse of a dress she bought the last time we were here. It wasn’t suitable twelve years ago, and it isn’t now, either. And it has nothing to do with her age.
‘I don’t,’ I counter dismissively, taking it from her hand and hanging it back on the rail.
‘What about this one?’ A peach strappy thing is presented to me. I shake my head, and Ava rolls her eyes. ‘This one?’
‘Nope.’
‘This one?’
I toss her a dark look, and she flops to a nearby velvet couch in exasperation. ‘Surely I have some say in this.’
She’s purposely pulling out dresses that she knows will send me batty. Driving me crazy is obviously ingrained into her. ‘You love everything I choose.’ I flick through the rails and home in on something lace, pulling it out and looking it up and down. It’s fitted, will showcase her every perfect curve, and it’ll sit just below the knee. ‘Perfect,’ I declare, handing it to the assistant. ‘She’ll try this one.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The assistant scuttles off to place the dress in the changing room, and I smile, all happy with myself. Until I find I’m being glared at. ‘What?’
‘You didn’t even ask if I liked it.’
‘You said I could choose.’ I laugh, pulling her up from the couch. Her resistance is pathetic.
‘Yes, but you didn’t even consult me.’ Snatching her hand back, she marches off to the dressing room, pulling a few random dresses from the rails on her way, just to prove a point. I inhale some patience and follow on behind. She’s being defiant for the sake of it. ‘Do you like the dress?’ I ask, being quickly flashed by very displeased, puckered lips over her shoulder. But I get no answer, making me smile. ‘Well?’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Yes, it’s the point, Ava. I have good taste and I know exactly what’ll look lovely on my wife. That dress will look lovely.’ I point to the others in her hand, the unapproved dresses. Yes, they’ll look lovely, too, but I’m likely to be arrested for murder if she wears them. ‘Those are a no-go.’ I take them from her hand and toss them aside.
Scowling at me, she yanks the curtain closed, but no sooner have I lost sight of her, I have it back again when she whips the curtain back across, her eyes wide, some kind of recognition on her face. ‘We’ve been here before.’
‘Yes!’ Both of our gripes are forgotten with the promise of another recollection. I move in closer, waiting for her to give me more.
Her head tilts, and she looks down the corridor to the store. ‘I bought a dress.’
‘Yes. Go on.’
Turning her eyes onto me, she brings her hands to her face, the strain from thinking so hard clear. ‘I bought it here! The dress you cut off my body, I bought it here in this very shop!’
‘Yes!’ Fuck me, it worked!
‘Jesse, I remembered something else!’ She virtually dives at me, and I catch her, hauling her up my body and holding her tightly. ‘That dress cost me a bomb.’ Her face in my neck, she laughs against my skin, her arms wrapped so tightly around my neck.
‘And you wearing it cost me a few heart attacks, lady.’ I’m smiling through my scolding words, absolutely beside myself with joy.
‘There’s something else.’ She wrestles free of me, her front rubbing mine as she slides down my body, her palms resting on my pecs, her eyes darting across the material of my Ralph.
‘What is it, baby? Take your time.’ I walk us across to a chaise and sit her down, holding her hands while she thinks. I’m all hunched over, trying to see her eyes as they jump across her lap.
‘You’re in
your boxers.’
I shrug. ‘Not unusual.’
‘But you’re outside.’ She looks at me, the corners of her lips tweaking. ‘You’re chasing me.’ A full-blown smile breaks. ‘I’m in the dress and you’re chasing me down the street.’
It was across a car park, actually, but whatever. She’s nearly there. ‘And then . . .’
Her smile fades and she frowns. And then she gasps, jumping up from the chaise, looking down at my groin. ‘I’m pinned to the bed? You’re . . .’ Her mouth falls open. ‘You pleasured yourself and ejaculated all over me?’
I’m so fucking happy, my face could split. ‘Yes, yes, I did that.’ Except that was before she escaped in the dress. Not that it matters. It’s all a little jumbled in her head, but it’s all still there.
There’s another gasp, except this time it isn’t from Ava. We both look to the side and find the assistant staring at us in horror, before she realises we’ve seen her and makes a mad dash for the shop floor, her cheeks on fire. I look at Ava, my mouth forming an O. Ava looks at me, eyes sparkling happily. And we laugh. We laugh so hard and so loudly, the shop must be shaking under the force. Ava falls into me, catching me by surprise, and takes us crashing to the dressing room floor, where we roll and chuckle like a pair of silly kids, not a care in the fucking world. Ava’s not horrified by her new-found knowledge. Just amused, and so pleased she remembered something. I’m fucking delirious with happiness.
The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls us from our hysteria, and I prop myself up on my elbows, finding another lady looming over us, this one older than the assistant, her arms crossed over her chest. ‘I’m the store owner. Can I help?’ What she means is, can she help with ejecting us from her lovely boutique.
‘We’ll take all the dresses,’ I declare, immediately wiping the look of disapproval from her face. She starts falling over her feet to help us, though not up off the floor.
With This Man Page 26