by Lovell, Dani
I could see his brain ticking, trying to think of some kind of excuse as to why we should hang around for a while, but he wasn’t coming up with anything quickly enough, and if we’ve got to be out of the room anyway - we’ll have nowhere to be alone together.
Everyone branches off to their own rooms in the hallway, leaving Oliver and I alone for a brief moment. He comes to my room to collect a few clothes and once inside, he closes the door and grabs hold of me, pressing me against the wall. “My god, Clare, I need you so badly,” he whispers, running his hands down the sides of my arms and back up again, “just kiss me, please? We can’t rush this first time…” he trails off before continuing, “I want it to be special for you.”
“I know, and it will be - as soon as we get some time alone together. I can’t wait to spend that time with you, Oliver.”
“Me neither,” he says, breathing deeply, his face up close to mine. “Just kiss me…” he asks, almost pleading.
I smile and nod slightly before his eyes close and he touches me ever so lightly with his lips. He knows how to make me whimper with his undeniable tenderness.
He moans quietly as he tilts his head to the side and cradles my face in his hands, continuing to caress my lips so perfectly. His breath is heavy, his forehead creased as he concentrates fully on my mouth. He shuffles his feet slightly and grumbles. “Uh… you’re so… addictive. I want more of you, so much more. Your lips…”
I grin against his mouth, uncontrollably. There’s nothing better than someone so very perfect - telling you that you’re equally as perfect, whilst tenderly embracing you.
“When we get back to LA, we’ll be able to relax together, properly.”
“I wish we could kiss all the way back to LA.”
I pat his cheek. “I know, me too. But we’ll be back before we know it and we can kiss all we like. Well… after we’ve been to Tilly’s.”
He sighs and looks down at our feet, nodding. “Okay.”
I press my hands against his strong, hard chest, subconsciously slipping my forefinger through his buttons to feel the soft skin covering his toned pecks. “I have a lot of packing to do, and about five minutes in which to do it. I am beginning to understand why men don’t unpack.”
He chuckles. “Want me to help?”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you, Oliver but I’m fine, I’m probably better running around and doing it myself. I’ll see you downstairs?”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few minutes, gorgeous girl.” He pecks me again - his lips are too inviting; my hands automatically hold onto his face, prolonging the kiss as he steps backwards to the door.
“Mmm…” he moans before we separate, “can’t wait until later.”
I smile as he kisses his fingers and turns them to face me before thumping them against his heart and sighing dramatically as he turns to stroll down the hallway. He’s so smooth, no wonder the ladies swoon for him. Yes… me included.
CHAPTER NINE
WEDNESDAY 19TH JUNE (CONT.)
About an hour into the car journey back to LA, I close my eyes and begin to drift. I can’t stop slipping in and out of dreams about my posy of roses that I so ruthlessly discarded in the lobby. I wish I had returned to retrieve them afterwards - not that I could have done anything with them, they’d die anyway - but they seem like quite a pivotal part of the morning - and they matched so beautifully with my dress, I feel like I should have kept a petal, at least, as a keepsake.
When I wake later in the journey, the car is silent. Everyone, other than Daniel, appears to be asleep which is a great thing because I’m curled up on the back seat, facing the rear of the car, with my hands wrapped around Oliver’s bicep and my head resting on his shoulder. It’s not overly affectionate but more so than I would like everyone to witness. It wasn’t long ago that Stacy was in this seat and sprawled out on top of him.
As I begin to move to turn and sit properly, Oliver’s hand darts out and rests on my head, keeping me from moving. “No…” he grumbles, sleepily, “…stay here.”
“No,” I whisper, “I have to move, darling.”
This seems to stir him properly and he wakes, opening his eyes and stretching a little. “Hello,” he says, croakily, with a smile. “Sleep well my wife?”
“Shh!” I look around us to make sure no one heard.
“Calm down, darling, no one would have heard that even if they were awake. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you. Still really tired, are you?”
“Yes, zonked,” he says, subtly resting his hand on top of mine between us. “Can’t wait until I can lay down with you.” I smile, he’s not the only one. “So where are we? We must be back in California now…”
“I seem to recognise it, I think,” I add in agreement, not wanting to shout to the front to ask Daniel for fear of waking Bea and Alexia.
But we were right, in fact - we were only around the corner from Luke and Tilly’s house, so in just a few moments, we were all climbing out of the car, yawning and stretching, looking forward to seeing our friends. I’m warm in my jeans and vest but I needed to travel in something comfortable and didn’t want to ruin my… my… wedding dress. I picked the soft cotton vest on purpose, knowing I’d be holding Emily against my chest today. See? There’s something wrong with me. Why do I think so much into these things?
They open the door before any of us even walk down the pathway and I’m taken aback by the comforting family picture before me; Luke and Tilly standing in the doorway, Luke with his arm affectionately around his wife, cradling their sleeping, infant daughter. The flower lined path, white wooden porch, perfect family home with the Hollywood Hills set behind is wonderful - if only I had a camera.
I’m tired, extremely confused by recent secret activities - though a little excited, too, and I’m highly emotional. Anyone who knows anything about me will know that I’m swooning at the romantic family scene waiting for us, and given my current state of emotional vulnerability, I’m finding it very hard to hold back the tears.
Oh, how much I want that, but what baffles me somewhat, is when I try to visualise Oliver and I in that picture… I can’t. Why is that? Is it because this is Hollywood, and we live in the UK? Is it because I’m not pregnant? Is it because Oliver and I haven’t even come out as a couple yet, let alone a married one? Why can’t I see me standing in a doorframe, cradling my baby with Oliver holding us?
“You okay, darling?” Oliver asks, looking down at my face, frowning.
“Oh, hmm?” I ask, taking a deep, fresh breath, pushing back my worries. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Let’s go and see that beautiful baby.”
He smiles and lifts his arm, gesturing for me to go ahead of him, behind the others. Once we’re inside, Bea has already got first dibs on the baby and Tilly gives me a huge, much-needed hug in the hallway. Everyone else has continued through to the sitting area and she holds me there for a moment, just us two.
“Happy Birthday, doll. I so wish we could have been there, was it amazing fun?” she asks, pulling back to look at me as I respond.
“Amazing, we really missed you.”
She frowns. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did something happen?” How does she fucking know this stuff? Pardon my French.
“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong.”
“You look funny… something happened didn’t it? Bea texted me about Stacy… did she do something to you? Ooh… did you sleep with Oliver?” she cries in a whisper.
“Oh my god! Tilly!”
She gasps out loud, “Oh my god - you did!”
“What the hell has Bea said to you?” I ask, uncharacteristically outwardly angrily. It’s the exhaustion, it must be.
“Um… whoa there, cowboy - Bea hasn’t said anything. But since you say that - I know something happened.”
I put my face in my hands and shake my head. I could just cry so easily right now. “Please, Tilly. I don’t want to do this now. Yes, something happened, Bea knows about it but I swore her to secr
ecy before you get upset. It was a one off. Okay? Please don’t make a big embarrassing thing about it… and please don’t make fun in front of everyone. And before you say you knew something was going on - it wasn’t, okay? This was it.”
Her mouth makes the perfect ‘o’ and her eyebrows practically touch the ceiling. “Wow!” she whispers, enthusiastically. “So, was it good?”
“Tilly.” I say very seriously.
“Okay, okay. I won’t make a big thing about it now, but when will you give me the goss? I’m your best friend, Clare - you have to tell me! I appreciate it’s difficult with Bea, given that it’s her brother and she doesn’t want to hear about the size and shape of his knob and how many knots he can tie it in… but I do!”
“Oh god, Til - he sees you like a sister, can’t you feel the same way back and be grossed out about it, too?”
“No! I think of him as a brother, but not so much that I don’t want to know how naughty he is in the bedroom.”
“Ugh. One day. Not now. Nothing is going on, we’re not dating,” because we’re kinda married… “so please, drop the issue and think no more of it.”
“Look, we’ll forget it for now, I can see you’re a little emotional and you must be desperate to see my beautiful little Wriggler, but one day, darling, will you promise to tell me something? I’m a married mum now, I need goss and excitement!”
I giggle. “Oh come on, Til, you’re married to Luke. You two will never lose excitement or bedroom zest.”
“Okay, you’re right, but still. One day?”
“One day.” I agree. “But for now - I’m super tired and on the verge of tears about everything and anything, and I need my Wriggler fix.”
“Okay,” she says, linking arms with me and squeezing me tightly. I do love her. She might love to make everyone come out in the open and discuss everything as bluntly and publicly as is physically possible, but she knows when to stop and she knows exactly how to deal with me when I’m feeling a bit wobbly. Like right now.
I greet Luke and am really pleased to see Tilly’s sister, Gemma, and her husband, Jay, here with their little boy Jack. I wanted to see them before we left for home tomorrow, too. The last time I saw Gem was at the hospital on Friday morning, when Emily was born. She was supposed to be at the birth but Tilly had such a fast labour, when we called her to tell her we were on our way to the hospital - she just didn’t manage to get there before the baby was born.
It’s such a lovely gathering, much like Saturday. Oh yes, Saturday. That’s the night Oliver and I had a drink together and he got a little honest… wow - that was the start of some home truths. He was still with Savage Stacy then - only three days ago. What? How can that be? How can he have been with her such a short time ago and be married to me today? Married! We’re married! Oh dear god, this is starting to feel very strange indeed.
After what seems like an eternity, my new favourite person is handed to me, her gorgeous little face resting on my shoulder, her tiny body curled up so her nappy covered bottom pokes right out - her tiny feet curled up beneath her on my chest. Her hair is so soft and so dark compared to mine; Tilly and Luke are still wondering where that dark hair came from, because even though they’ve got brown hair now - they were both light blonde as young children.
She’s wearing the cutest pink sundress made of t-shirt fabric and her matching frilly knickers over her nappy are adorable. She has tiny socks on with a bow on the ankle and I swear, I could eat this child. I’m in love, one hundred percent in love with this beautiful little being. How on earth am I going to go back to the UK and not watch her grow up? Tilly is just going to have to video-call me every single day so I can see my precious little baby thriving before my very eyes.
I really want a baby. I mean, I really want to have a baby. It would make no sense for us to have one right away - we need to concentrate on making sure this whole ‘out-of-the-blue best-friend-marriage’ thing can actually work. But I do feel this maternal, biological, instinctive urge to get that egg fertilised and cook my very own miniature Clare or Oliver.
I think for a moment how wonderful that would be - to feel a little being inside me, made entirely of Oliver and me. To have that swollen, rounded tummy housing my very own baby. To have Oliver rest his hands on my tummy, the way he did to Tilly when she was pregnant and he was taking care of her in Aspen. That made me a little jealous, if I’m completely honest. I knew it was inexplicably irrational, Oliver was just my BFF, my darling friend needed comforting and he was the perfect person to offer her that - but when he stayed in her bed with her and took her fully under his caring wing… I wanted to swap places. Desperately.
“You love it, don’t you?” Alexia says with a warm smile as she stands next to me by the open patio doors.
“Babies?”
“Yes, babies, pregnancy, family - the whole thing.”
I smile, feeling unexpectedly sad that I don’t have it, and really quite under confident that I will end up having this with Oliver. Which worries me, he’s my husband; why am I feeling negative about the future we can offer each other? “Yes, I’d love to have a family.”
“You’ll make a fantastic mother, Clare. You really will.”
“Thank you. When and if that time comes, I will be over the moon.”
“Oh, it’ll come, I’m certain.”
I smile, not quite so confident. “Do you want this, Alexia? Do you want children?”
She smiles and shakes her head, gently. “No,” she says softly, “I think children are beautiful, especially this little thing, but - no. It’s not what I’m looking for.”
“Really?” I ask, I have never asked this question of her before. I’m not sure why I’m so surprised.
“Mmm hmm,” she says, her voice so gentle. “I would like a partner, at some stage, but a family isn’t something I have ever really wanted. I know my brother and Bea will be having babies, and that suits me perfectly. I can’t wait to be able to spoil my nieces and nephews, but children of my own? I don’t think so.”
“Oh, okay. I like that you have your life set out in front of you. You know exactly what you want and you live by that. It’s so different to me. I like everything to be a little… unplanned. It can be risky at times, but I’ve never really been one to follow convention. Though, having said that, I do want the family and the babies and the white picket fence - I just might go about getting it slightly differently to most - if I do ever get it.”
“Oh you will, I have no doubt about that.” She sips her coffee and smiles. She’s so… so… grown up. She’s so very different to me, but I love that. Even today, I’m sitting here in jeans, a vest and ballet shoes, and she’s wearing smart capri pants with a silk blouse and very expensive-looking navy, suede flats. I think that’s what makes us gel as friends. Not to mention when she’s had a drink and she lets herself go a little, she’s so much fun.
Tilly and Luke decide to put on a bbq late in the afternoon, so the boys head out to buy meat and burgers, while we prepare some food here and let Tilly put her feet up with her little girl asleep on her chest. There’s nothing quite like seeing a mother with her newborn baby asleep in her arms… Oh here we go again. These emotions are ridiculous. I must be getting PMT or something.
I’m going to miss everyone so terribly; when Tilly first moved to the States it was heartbreaking, we had lived together for years so for her to move out was sad enough, but for her to move out and live in California was a tremendous, painful change for me and I struggled without her for a while.
Coming back here to see them has been amazing. I will still miss them, massively, but at least I have Oliver at home and Bea and Daniel most of the time. I think we’ll be living for the holidays that we manage to plan together.
A little while later, everyone relaxes outside by the bbq, or ‘grill’ as the American boys call it. I slip inside to get myself a bottle of water and as I open the fridge, I am taken by surprise as two hands slip around the front of my body and rest against
my pelvis. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers in my ear and my eyes close, his warm breath such a contrast on my neck to the air of the very cold fridge. He presses those skilled fingers further into me - down there, sliding one hand a little further down until he’s cupping me.
I whisper a moan as I drop my head back against his shoulder.
“I want to show you what you’re doing to me; walking around in front of me in those tight jeans… that vest clinging to your body… it’s making me need you more. I keep having to stop myself looking at you because all I want to do is take your clothes off and watch your body as you come for me.”
“Oh god,” I moan, I so need that.
He lifts his hand to my stomach and then slowly slips it into the waistband of my jeans, slowly moving lower and lower.
“No, Oliver,” I moan, not really meaning it, but really meaning it, “we can’t, not here, not… oh…” I drift off, his fingers pressing against me inside my knickers.
“You’re so fucking soft, Clare… I love how you feel against my fingers. And I know you’re getting ready, aren’t you?”
I nod, knowing he’s referring to my… um… my state of arousal… how… wet… I am. Oh gosh, I said it again. I so hate that word but it feels so good to say it in this context.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes…” I whisper, immediately.
“Say it… tell me…”
“I’m… oh,” I cry, quietly, as he lightly circles my clitoris, “I… I’m… ready.”
“Ready how?” He moves a little faster, I’m hot, oh so hot - even standing practically inside the fridge.
“Ready, like… ready for you… I’m…”
“Yeah? You’re…” He slips lower until he gently circles me at my core. Slowly, but forcefully, he pushes his fingers inside.
“Oh holy fuck!” I cry and he immediately covers my mouth with his spare hand. I lick his middle finger as he works his other hand rhythmically inside me, and I take it by the back of the knuckle into my teeth, biting down as my face creases; he’s taking me there, oh so expertly - in Tilly’s kitchen!