by A. E. Murphy
“Liar!”
“It was a while ago. Don’t worry about it.”
The guilt shining from his eyes tells me different. “When exactly is a while ago?”
“Look… I don’t do birthdays. My birthdays have never been what you would call joyous occasions. Just forget about it.”
Narrowing my eyes, I push myself up onto my knees and place my hands against his shoulders. “When was your birthday, Nathan?”
“I don’t remember.”
Growl. “When was your birthday?”
“I don’t have birthdays.”
My scowl deepens. “When was your birthday?”
“Can’t we just make love and forget about this?”
Sigh. “We don’t make love Nathan, or have you forgotten that you don’t do oral? You need oral to make love in my opinion.”
He barely hides his grimace. “I’ll give you oral for your birthday.”
Eye roll. “And how will you manage that?”
His face falls. “Is it really that important to you?”
“No! Of course not. I’m only joking.”
“I’ll work on it… maybe I can…”
I slap my hand over his mouth and stare into his eyes, hopefully projecting my irritation at his avoidance. “When was your birthday?”
“Last Monday,” he blurts and grips my arms before I can start beating him. “It’s not a big deal.”
I beg to differ.
I move away from him and stand, forgetting about my lack of clothing as I move towards the door. “Where are you going?” He asks, following close behind. I ignore him and make my way towards the stairs.
I can’t believe he didn’t tell me it was his birthday! What is wrong with him?
“Are you going to respond?”
I almost say no, but then I realise that would be a response and quickly clamp my mouth shut.
He continues following me silently, all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. It’s not until I collect one of the cupcakes I made earlier today from the fridge and place it on the side that he asks me what I’m doing.
What can I use as a… ah ha!
“Really?” He snorts as I place the small round tea candle on top of the brown frosting, which I always store under the sink just in case of a power cut. “Oh come on, Gwen.”
I light the small wick held firmly by the white wax and hold the cupcake to his face.
“Aren’t you going to sing happy birthday?” He jokes, tapping his chin in thought. “I wish my girlfriend would speak.”
He blows it out and smiles fondly at me. That is until I take the candle from the top and smash the cake against his mouth. “Happy birthday,” I say sarcastically and leave him to his silent freak out, sniggering as I go.
That was very mean.
He deserved it.
When he finally makes it back to bed, I’m expecting him to scold me and pin me on the bed with those amazing arms as his eyes burn with anger. He doesn’t.
Instead, he climbs into his side and flips onto his stomach so he’s facing away from me.
I think I may have messed up. “Did I upset you? That wasn’t my intention.” Or maybe it was. I don’t know.
“No.”
I kiss the back of his shoulder and rest my cheek between his shoulder blades. “Please stop keeping things from me.”
“Sure.”
Sigh.
“Goodnight.”
“Night,” he mutters.
I sigh again and close my eyes.
It’s not until I’m sleeping that he finally rolls into me. I’m not completely convinced that he did it because he wanted to and not because he thought he had to. This is because the moment I awoke, he rolled away.
The entire situation seems to be forgotten as soon as I go for the mail after breakfast and I spot another of those envelopes lying on the mat. It’s been folded length ways to allow it to fit through the letterbox. My fingers burn as I scoop it from the ground, my mind desperately screaming at me to read it.
I have to close my eyes for a moment to convince myself that whatever is in this envelope could destroy us and I don’t want that at all. I’m happy, for the first time since Caleb, as much as it pains me to say it.
The guilt still bites at me, but my happiness and eagerness to live seem to overshadow it.
Nathan seems to overshadow it.
When I open my eyes, I pad into the kitchen and dump the envelope in the bin. Then I skim through the pile of bills we seem to have been sent and discard the ones I daren’t read.
Bill shock is a fatal condition. It’s where there are too many zeroes after a certain number and you can no longer breathe.
Nathan picks these up and reads through them while eating half a grapefruit. Gross.
“What you doing baby boy?” I coo to my smiling little man and double check the harness of his reclining high chair is fastened properly. It is. A sure sign I worry too much.
“What did you put in the bin?” Nathan asks, not looking at me.
“Are you still mad about last night?” I frown. “I said I was sorry when I woke up this morning.”
“What did you put in the bin?” His face remains expressionless.
“I’m not answering until you do.”
He sighs, rubs his face with his hands and gives me a look that screams, ‘do we have to do this now?’
I return a look that screams, ‘Yes we bloody well do.’
“What you did was cruel,” he says, placing the bills in a neat pile by his plate. I take them and shove them into a nearby drawer.
“What you did was cruel.” I glare at him. “You hid your birthday from me.”
He quirks a brow. “You’ve never asked when my birthday is.”
I open my mouth to argue, but realise he’s right. Scratching my head, I try to slide myself onto his lap but he stands and moves away. “I have to be at the store by noon. I have a delivery coming.”
“I’m sorry for smashing cake in your face; you’re right, it was cruel.” And funny, but I don’t say this because he’s obviously not happy with me and I doubt my saying that will help the situation in any way at all. “Forgive me?”
“It took me half an hour to get it off my skin. I’m surprised I have any left.”
What? “Cake?”
He looks at me with exasperation swimming in his beautiful browns. “Skin!”
“Oh.” The floor is very interesting right now. I need to sweep and mop. “When will you be home?”
“I’ll call.” He pinches Dillan’s cheek and kisses his head. “Oh,” he stops suddenly, his empty eyes landing on mine. “Next time you upset me, I’ll throw a rat at you and see how you react. I’ll also laugh as I’m walking away, leaving you to deal with it alone.”
Well, when he puts it like that. “God, Nathan… I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” He checks his watch. “I really have to go.”
“Nathan…” I reach for him, but he moves away. I deserve that. “I am sorry, you know that right?”
He says nothing, leaving me to feel small and severely sorry. I’ll leave him alone for a while. He’ll calm down, although he doesn’t seem angry, only disappointed, which is even worse.
“Tell me to tell you that I love you,” I practically beg.
His body seems to slump as if releasing all of his pent up anger, frustration and disappointment in one breath. He turns towards me and cups my cheek with his hand. “I love you and I know you love me. Right now I’m annoyed. That doesn’t mean I don’t know that we love each other.”
“You should still say it.”
“In case the worst should happen and we didn’t say it before, I’m telling you now that until I say otherwise, or you say otherwise, this belongs to you.” He taps the left side of his chest with his free hand, before placing my hand over it. I nod, lowering my eyes once more. He leans forward and places a gentle kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay.”
> When I look up, I see the small smile teasing the corner of his lips, making his eyes narrow slightly. “I forgive you.”
“I am sorry.” I wait for him to kiss me. He doesn’t delay and I instantly melt into him. After a few moments, he pulls away slowly and reluctantly then kisses my forehead and turns to leave.
Dillan shouts out a babble, almost as if telling Nathan not to forget about him.
I smile and watch him kiss Dillan’s open mouth and chubby fists before giving me a wink and leaving for London.
I am such a bitch.
I spend another half an hour with Dillan, playing with him on the floor of the living room. He’s still too young to crawl, but he’s getting so good at lifting himself with his hands now. Although, after thirty seconds of dropping and lifting, he starts to get irritable.
After dropping him off with my mum, I make my way to work feeling happy and light. I remember when people told me that time will heal my wounds, and sure enough, even though my heart still has a gaping hole that Caleb left behind, I feel like I’m healing.
It’s still hard, but I now know that it’ll get better.
Besides, I have Nathan and he’s amazing. He makes everything so much easier.
“Morning.” Elle beams, giving me a wave. Tiffany slides a coffee my way and I snatch it from the counter as I make my way to the kitchen.
“Hey guys,” I say, shrugging off my jacket. “What have we got on the menu today?”
Elle hands me a list as I sip my amazing coffee. I can detect the taste of gingerbread.
“Valentine has just gone to the supermarket. Those idiots with the van forgot the chocolate chips.” Tiffany sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And last week it was the caster sugar. I swear, we should go with a different company.”
“And the week before it was the cinnamon,” I point out, shaking my head with annoyance. “They’re the best quality though. It’s just unfortunate their staff are morons. I’ll get started on these.”
Tiffany nods and hands me my clean apron. I pull it on and get to work. I no longer get absolutely covered in ingredients, which is fortunate. I’m so sick of washing flour from my hair and jam from my skin.
By the time Valentine returns, we have a shop full of orders for the next day.
She returns with something I’m not sure was on her shopping list and immediately hands it to me.
I stare at the large brown envelope with fury boiling the blood in my veins. In the calmest voice I can muster, I ask Valentine where she got it.
“It was in with the post.” She must see the anger I’m trying to hide. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. If you get anymore, let me know.” I shove it in the bin when her back is turned and bury it under the cakes from the day before yesterday that are nowhere near fresh enough to sell anymore.
“Okay. Can you stay until five today?”
It’s only an extra hour I suppose. “Sure, no problem. Can I just make a quick call?”
She waves me away and I quickly race out of the bakery. The phone rings three times before he answers. I hear the sound of his car engine and the hum of wheels on the road as he drives. “Nathan… he’s not trying to threaten you anymore.”
“What?” Nathan asks, sounding worried and slightly perplexed.
“Your father sent one of those envelopes to my workplace today.”
He goes silent for a moment. I hear his breathing come to a stop and immediately panic.
“Don’t freak out. I didn’t read it. I buried it in the bin under a lot of two day old cakes.”
A long hiss sounds into the speaker. “I have to go.”
“Nath…”
“I have to go.” The line goes dead and I curse loudly. Looking up at the clear sky, I pray that Nathan doesn’t do anything stupid. He’s already a third of the way to London by now.
His dad lives in London!
Crap.
I try to call him back, but it goes through to voicemail. There’s not much I can do from here, other than finish work and pray a million more times. I should go after him, but not only can I not let Valentine down, I also don’t have any way to get there.
Please, please, don’t do something stupid. He’s not worth it.
Gah, I wish he’d just tell me.
Racing back inside, I try to keep myself as busy as possible so the day goes faster. I wait and wait for his call, text, email… anything would be nice at this point. I’m practically shaking with nervousness and worry. What’s going on?
I call him during every break. I usually take five minutes at the end of every hour. Instead of sitting, I pace while listening to the ring tone going unanswered. This is driving me crazy.
“What’s wrong?” Tiffany asks as I check the clock for the umpteenth time.
“Nathan’s not answering.” I check the clock again.
“Is he okay?”
“That’s the million dollar question.”
We listen to Valentine humming as she works in her part of the kitchen. Tiffany’s eyes linger on the doorway. “Why don’t you ask her if you can leave now?”
I want to; I’m tempted… “I promised I’d stay an extra hour.”
“It’s worth asking.”
She’s right. If you don’t ask, you don’t get. But I know Valentine won’t go for it and it’s not fair on her if I ditch work on such short notice. Sigh.
“It’s fine; he’ll be okay. Besides, I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for him.”
“True.” She rests her hand on my shoulder. “You can talk to me. You know that right?”
I nod, giving her a small smile. “The same can be said to you too.”
“We should do something fun this weekend, take the kids on a playdate,” she suggests.
“That actually sounds like a really good idea, although Dillan can’t exactly play yet.” My phone rings, causing me to drop the rolling pin with a loud clatter. I quickly press it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, are you busy?” I almost groan with frustration when I hear Sasha’s voice.
“Kind of, I’m at work.”
“Okay.” She seems sad. Has something happened between her and Tommy?
“What is it? I have five minutes.”
“It’s nothing important. I just need some new shoes and didn’t want to go into town alone.”
“Oh, sorry Sash. I’d come if I could.”
“Yeah.” I hear the smile in her voice. “Have a good day at work.”
“I’ll try.” I hang up and check my voicemail, just in case. Nothing. Zero. Zilch.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
Sigh.
“He’ll call,” Tasha reassures me and, on all that is dear to me, I sincerely hope she’s right.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
By the time I’m home with Dillan, I’m in full blown panic mode. His phone is off, I’ve not received one response and I swear I just found a grey hair from all of this stress.
Dillan babbles happily as he sits up between my legs, smacking at his toy drum. My phone never leaves my hand. Why hasn’t he called?
I need to stop this. Dillan needs me right now.
“Are you hungry?” I ask him, but he completely ignores me and continues hitting the drum. Not that I expected him to turn around and tell me he fancies Spaghetti Bolognese with a healthy amount of parmesan. He’s not even on solids yet.
After bathing Dillan and settling him in for bed, I pace in the hallway for a while. This is so irritating. Why can’t he just call me? I know he has his charger with him. He has one in his car at all times, so his phone dying is no excuse.
What if his dad has hurt him? I have no doubts in my mind that he has confronted his father. What if it went completely wrong and they ended up fighting?
What if he was in a car accident on the way? They say don’t drive angry, or did I make that up?
To take my mind off it, I decide to make dinner; nothing fancy, just a pasta bake and some garlic bread. It t
akes me a while to prepare, but does little to calm my mind.
I hate this!
I hate feeling so useless!
When dinner is ready, I can’t even attempt to eat; food is the last thing on my mind, so I pop it back in the oven to keep warm and head up to bed. Maybe he’ll come home soon. It is getting late after all. Maybe he’s on his way home.
This is ridiculous. How difficult is it to call somebody?
You pick up a phone, dial their number and press ring. It’s especially important to do this when you leave the previous conversation on such a dramatic note.
I wish Mr Weston, aka Stephen, would just burn in hell already. Why can’t he just leave us alone?
“This is all your fault,” I snarl at Caleb, even though I know he probably can’t hear me. I instantly regret it and rub my tired eyes. “No,” I correct on a whisper. “This is all my fault.”
******
I’m not sure how, but I finally managed to fall asleep, I don’t remember closing my eyes, but I know that they did because when my ringtone sounds I feel like someone has smacked me in the brain. My eyes only just peel open as I place the phone to my ear. Then I remember who it could be and in the blink of an eye, I’m wide awake.
“Hello?”
“Gwen,” Nathan says, sounding solemn. “I…”
“Oh my god! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
“Gwen…”
“I thought you were injured, or in an accident… What the hell is going on?”
“I was…”
“How could you be so stupid? Do you have any idea how badly I’ve been panicking?”
“Will you shut up?” He snaps and I can tell by the tone in his voice that his hands are probably balled into fists. “I’ve been arrested.”
Wait… what? “Come again?”
“It’s a long story. My solicitor has only just managed to make it here and get me my phone call.” He sounds exhausted.
I don’t know what to say. “What happened?”
“I… I can’t say right now. This isn’t a private call.”
“Who’s pressing charges?”
“Who do you think?” He bites out, angry at the situation.
If I were a cat I’d be hissing.
“What can I do?” I ask softly, hating the thought of him having to spend the night in a cell. Unclean, cold and small.