Forever: Broken #3

by A. E. Murphy

  “See you later, guys,” I call, taking the tub of ice-cream under one arm with the fudge resting on top.

  They call a jumbled, “Bye, see you later, don’t get pregnant.”

  I’m not sure who yelled the last part but I flip the room off anyway.

  “See?” I say to Nathan as I walk backwards ahead of him. “Kerim is just Kerim. There’s no need to be paranoid.”

  “We shall see,” he mumbles, grabbing me and pulling me to him. “You have chocolate on your bottom lip.” When he sucks my lip into his mouth, I tremble and melt faster than the fudge in the microwave. “Tasty.”

  “Stop teasing me.”

  “Says you.” Grinning, he kisses me again, deeper this time, and grabs my arse with one hand as the other keeps my head pinned in place. I clench and tingle in my womb, especially when I’m backed up to the wall and his lips travel down my neck. There’s little I can do to reciprocate or ward him off because of the tub of ice-cream in my hands.

  “Nathan,” I whisper when his hand that was at my neck now grasps my breast over my shirt. “Seriously, you’re killing me.”

  Smiling, he pulls back, kisses my nose and takes me to the car. I need a fan. I can’t recall ever feeling so hot. What came over him and how can I make it come over him again?

  And then, lying together in bed, after coming down from one of the best orgasms we’ve shared, Nathan whispers, “We’re passionate, right?”

  “If you don’t think what we just did is passionate, there’s something wrong with you.”

  Nuzzling my neck and crushing my body under his, we sleep. There’s something so soothing about drifting off with him still partly inside of me, connecting us in the most intimate way.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Awoken softly would be an understatement; soft kisses and a gentle massage of my limbs stirs me from slumber. I sigh with contentment. What did I do to get so lucky?

  “Morning,” I hum when he moves to my feet and rubs them with his whole hands. “That tickles.”

  “Shh,” he whispers and pushes his fingers back up to the backs of my knees. “I made you breakfast.”

  “You did?”

  “It’s keeping warm. Come on, shower,” he softly demands and moves away.

  I open my eyes and stretch into the mattress, face down and feeling amazing. “What time is it?”

  “A little after nine.”

  “No lie in then?”

  “I have something planned.”

  This piques my attention. “Oh?”

  Smiling his handsome smile, he helps me from the bed, laughs at my messy hair and directs me to the bathroom. “Go shower before I ravage you and make us late.”

  The tingling between my legs definitely doesn’t mind that happening.

  “Seriously,” I grumble after climbing into the car. “What kind of parents don’t sleep all day the one time they don’t have their kids?”

  “The kind that are passionate, fun and love each other so much they want to do things together.”

  “Yes, like… I don’t know, sleeping perhaps?”

  He laughs and tugs on my over the shoulder braid. “You’re cute.”

  “Don’t call me cute when I’m grumpy.”

  “You’re not grumpy; I’ve seen you grumpy.” He flashes his tongue at me. “This isn’t grumpy Gwen; this is hungry and needs a coffee Gwen.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Majorly. When you’re grumpy, food and coffee don’t fix it.”

  He has a point. I sigh and reach across to stroke the back of his hair with my fingertips. “Your hair is so soft. Let it grow like it used to be when I was pregnant with Dillan.”

  His brow quirks. “It was dishevelled.”

  “It was wild. I loved when you could tuck it behind your ears.” Pulling gently, I try to do just that but it doesn’t quite reach past the curve. “It suited you.” Then I scratch my nails over the stubble on his jaw. “Keep this too; you have no idea how sexy you look.”

  His smile broadens, showing his teeth, and his eyes crinkle at the edges. I love this look on him too.

  “I see girls looking at you whenever we go anywhere together.”

  He hums, concentrating on the road but still listening.

  “I hate it and love it all at once.”

  “Sometimes I wish you were ugly so I wouldn’t have to constantly compete for your affections.”

  “You have all of my affections,” I giggle, smacking his arm playfully. “You’re my world.”

  “Then marry me already.”

  My eyes roll of their own accord but my smile doesn’t fade. “Then let’s plan it.”

  Large fingers encompass my wrist and pull my hand to his thigh. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “Good. So, wherever we’re going today we’ll finally decide on our top two venues and then next week we will go and view said venues; how’s that?”

  “Sounds perfect.” His mood becomes even lighter than before. “You’re going to love what I have planned for us today.”

  “It does involve coffee, right?” When he doesn’t respond I choke out a panicked, “Right?”

  “Duh.”

  “You scared me then.”

  “I know.”

  I poke my tongue out at him and open the window. I love the feel of the breeze through my hair.

  “It’s such a gorgeous day. We’ve had a great summer this year.” Nathan comments as he tweaks the dial of the radio.

  “That we have. It’s a shame we’ve not had time to spend it together.”

  “That’s changing from now.” Nathan insists. “We’ll make more time for each other.”

  “Promise?” He doesn’t get the chance to answer because my head is hanging half out of the car window as I cry, “LEE VALLEY?” I turn to him, lit with excitement. “Ice skating?”

  “I owe you a session.”

  “Oh my god! Horse riding and ice skating? Who are you?”

  “Sit down.” He pulls me back by my shoulder and quickly parks in one of the spots at the far end of the carpark. It’s something he always does. He says it’s all good exercise. I disagree. There’s no such thing as good exercise unless it’s ice skating of course.

  “I am so freaking excited.” I think he can tell by how badly I’m grinning. My entire face hurts.

  “I can tell.”

  “We should make this a monthly thing!”

  “Woah now,” he laughs nervously. “Let’s not jump in head first. We don’t know how bad we are yet.”

  “I bet you’ll be a natural!”

  “I highly doubt it.”

  The first mistake Nathan made was stepping onto the ice without holding onto the side. He fell straight onto his arse and I howled with laughter, though I shouldn’t have because karma was quick to serve me an ice cold dish of pain. My laughter knocked me off balance and I slid to the ground beside him, no doubt bruising my rear.

  Nathan laughed as hard as I did and we somehow manoeuvred our way back up to standing.

  Skaters fly by at lightning speed, their bodies seeming to fly. Even little kids have this better than us. I don’t care though; every time my ankles wobble I just feel more joy. I will conquer this ice.

  Nathan clings desperately to the side as I finally find my footing and dare to enter the oval with the others. It takes me a while to pick up my speed but when I do, I’m gone. Shakily, yet confidently, I whiz past people, feeling the cold prickle my face, feeling proud and free. I totally forget about Nathan still clinging hopelessly to the side.

  When I make a full circle back to him, I find him chatting to an unknown man who seems to be giving him tips on how to not fall on his arse. This only makes me laugh even more. Nathan sees me, shakes his head with amusement and yells, “I’m the natural, huh?”

  “You can’t have it all, Baby. Gotta leave something for me to be good at,” I giggle, winking at him and slamming to a stop against the wall in front of him.

  “Don’t
do that again; you’ll break your bloody arms,” Nathan snaps, concerned but not concerned enough to let go of the rail.

  “Hi,” I pant, holding my hand out to the man in a red jumper, white scarf around his neck and proper figure skating boots on his feet.

  He shakes my hand and smiles. “Hi, I’m Dean; just helping your guy to find his footing.”

  “I know your accent!” I comment excitedly. “You’re from Hull! I’d know that twang anywhere.”

  “You’d be right,” he laughs and does a half twist on his skates to face Nathan. “You need to bend your legs at the knees.”

  “Go,” Nathan waves his hand at me, “while Dean helps me try to find my dignity.”

  “Nath,” I whisper, worried I’ve upset him.

  His smile is reassuring and so soft and sweet. “Go. You look peaceful out there. I’ll catch up.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Go,” Dean laughs, giving me a gentle push with a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll have him skating in no time.”

  I don’t need telling again. If Nathan wants this time to learn, I’ll let him have it. I know he doesn’t like to look like a failure in front of me and I just know this is exactly what he’ll be thinking if I stay.

  Besides I really am loving this. I’m not graceful at all but I feel it. I almost slip a few times but I stay close enough to the rails to stop myself. Every time I circle past Nathan, he’s slowly made his way to a new section of rail. This makes me so happy. Poor Dean is still with him too. I notice them laugh at something and feel an immense amount of pride and joy. Nathan is doing something out of character; he’s actually being nice to somebody other than me.

  Before I know it, I feel a hand in mine and I’m skating by my future husband, laughing and giggling over every near fall, over every near collision. Also, I’m inwardly celebrating that he and Dean promised to seek each other out. Dean is new and has very few local friends and Nathan is Nathan and has no social life beyond me or work.

  This really has been the best weekend of my life.

  Unfortunately, what goes up, must come down. That’s the saying, I think.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I receive a phone call on the way to work and my curious mind, despite the fact it says spam, doesn’t hesitate to answer. I transfer the call to Bluetooth and switch up the volume. My eyes remain firmly on all of my mirrors and the street ahead.

  “Gwen speaking,” I sing song, my tone high and cheery.

  “Hello, Guinevere.”

  I recognise the voice but I can’t be sure who it is. “Sorry, the signal is choppy; who is it please?”

  “My apologies, it’s Jackson. Are you available to talk?”

  “Oh! Of course, sorry, I’m free.”

  “Great.” He clears his throat. “I know you decided not to go through with my services but seeing as you already paid, I just couldn’t leave a job half done.”

  “That’s fine,” I smile, confident that he found nothing.

  “Normally I’d send my clients a file with details of when and where the person they’re looking in on have been, but I don’t feel I need to in this case.”

  Even though I knew this would be the answer, my heart swells with relief and tears sting my eyes. “He’s a good man, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, beyond his crazy work schedule, you, his kids, and visits with his mother, he doesn’t have a social life. No texts, calls, anything that can’t be linked to you, work or close family.”

  That swelling in my heart freezes and my head feels fuzzy. “Just a second, I need to pull over.”

  “Certainly, should I call back?”

  “No!” I practically yell. “I need to… just one second.”

  He goes silent as I pull over with trembling hands on the wheel, almost cutting off a man on a bike in the process. Fuck.

  “Sorry, I’m good now.” Swallowing the lump in my throat I nervously ask, “His mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not my mother?” Please, please be my mother.

  “No, a Mrs Patricia Weston.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “It’s my job to be,” he says a little haughtily.

  “Sorry, I’m just a bit… how often do they meet?”

  He goes quiet. “I’m sensing something here.”

  “You’d be right,” I confirm, feeling my anger build, not with Jackson though. Definitely not with Jackson. “How often have they been meeting?”

  “Every few days.”

  “Oh my god.” That liar. “Every few days?”

  “Give or take. Would you like the list? I took pictures too.”

  “Please, if you would. I’d appreciate it.” My eyes sting with threatening tears. “Are they friendly?”

  “Definitely,” he states, leaving no room to question. “Though he remained distant, your children seemed familiar with her…”

  “WHAT?” I screech. “This can’t be happening.”

  “I shouldn’t pry, but…”

  “She’s an awful, horrid woman.”

  The phone crackles on his end as he seems to move, probably to get comfortable. This is all just another day in the office to him. “Do you need my assistance further? I could squeeze you in if necessary.”

  “No, no, I’m okay. I can take it from here. Thank you.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’ll call you if not. Please send over the photos if you can, as soon as possible. I need to see this for myself.”

  “No problem, I’ll send it all over immediately. Are you certain you don’t need further assistance?”

  Another thought jumps to mind. “Do you by any chance know when they’ll be meeting next?”

  “I do actually; from his messages I’d say Wednesday.”

  Wow… this private detective stuff really is invasive. “Wednesday?”

  “Noon.” When he says this I have to choke back a sob. That’s the day Nathan is supposed to be going to a parent and child event with the kids while I work. He’s done nothing but lie to me. “I’m already placing it into the email with the rest of the information I have. I’m sorry this didn’t have the ending I expected.”

  “Me too,” I murmur, embarrassed by my reaction, so I hang up as swiftly as possible. “Okay, deep breaths. It’s all just one huge misunderstanding.”

  Then the email comes through and I’m unsure whether or not I want to open it or remain blissfully ignorant.

  Too late now. When the email comes I don’t hesitate to subject myself to an entire world of pain and rage. There he is, just as Jackson said, in the park with my children and that vile bitch. What the hell is going on? Is this why he brought her up? Did he really want to tell me this? What is wrong with him?

  I scream and bash the steering wheel with my fists. Have my children been around the abuser too? Or just the bitch? I need to know everything!

  My phone rings, startling me from my steering wheel slapping and inside the car screaming alone match.

  “Shit,” I curse, slamming my hand again against the steering wheel again. Pressing the button on the phone, I quickly blurt, “I’m sorry, I’m on my way.”

  “You better be!” Is all Kerim responds and then hangs up.

  I’m late. I’ve never been late.

  Fuck you, Nathan.

  I type a text to Nathan reading, ‘How’s Patricia?’ but with a shaky thumb I press delete and let my head fall back heavily against the headrest. A tear falls in the same spot my thumb just vacated on my phone so I wipe the screen on my thigh and drop my phone onto the passenger seat. I need to calm myself enough to drive to work, though I really want to call in sick. It wouldn’t be a lie; I’m one wave of nausea away from throwing up.

  What am I going to do? I can’t allow this. What is going through his head?

  It takes me a short while to gather the strength to unfold my weakening body out of the car. The cool breeze helps the pain in my head but not the pain stabbing through m
y heart.

  I keep trying to convince myself that there’s some reasonable explanation to this but I won’t allow myself to permit him to lie to me so badly. He’s had my children around that monster. What is wrong with him?

  There’s no excusing this, even if there is a reasonable explanation, which I doubt there is. There is no rationalising his lying to me. How will we get past this? It feels impossible. I’m not sure I’ll be able to look him in the eye.

  “Don’t be late again!” Kerim shouts the second I step through the door. “I should send you home but Patience is ill.”

  “Sorry, Chef,” I say quietly as I pass him, my head down.

  I get changed in record time and put myself into the kitchen, relieved to see I don’t have to oversee anything today. I’m not sure I have the willpower or strength.

  Preparing food for meals I should have finished already, I dive into my work, distracting myself from the realities of life.

  Kerim blanks me. I can tell he’s upset with me and rightfully so. My home life shouldn’t be interfering with my work. I’ve never seen anybody else in this kitchen come in late because of a marriage spat or similar. There’s still so much growing up I must do. Maybe Nathan wouldn’t lie to me if I wasn’t so naïve.

  The day goes by and I’m proud of myself for not checking my phone a single time.

  When the restaurant begins to empty and cleaning in the kitchen begins, I feel trapped. I want to go home to my kids but I know that the second I step through the front door, everything is going to change. I’m terrified.

  My colleagues start filtering out of the exit, saying tired goodbyes. I hang back and wait for Kerim to exit his office. I owe him an apology.

  “You’re still here?” He blinks, his eyes red rimmed and tired.

  I nod unnecessarily. “I feel bad for being late, especially seeing how busy we were.”

  “It happens.” He waves me off and leans back against the wall. “Is all okay?”

  Smiling, a lie on my face, I respond, “Of course, I was just a bit ill.”

  “I think something is going around.”