* * *
I’m not sure who’s more uncomfortable, me for putting Jackson in this situation and having to masquerade as a bona fide couple. Or Jackson for playing the role perfectly while being assaulted by all that is Christmas. And when I say assaulted, I mean assaulted. Right now, Annie, my eight-year-old niece via brother number two, is hanging tinsel around him like he’s the tree, while four-year-old Jake climbs on his back so he can hang baubles on the higher branches.
‘Annie, you do know that the tree is this way and not—’
‘Granny Marlene doesn’t want the tinsel in here this year.’ She folds her arms and looks up at me as she lays down the Carey law, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her. ‘It’s only to go on the one in the living room.’
‘You have more than one tree?’ Jackson looks at me, his cheeks flushed as he angles Jake just so and has his face squished by the boy’s palm as Jake uses it as an anchor point to lean further into the tree.
I try not to laugh. ‘Yup.’
‘We have five, to be precise,’ Annie states precociously, and it’s all I can do to smile at Jackson and nod.
‘And is the plan to decorate them all today?’
‘Yup.’ It’s Jake who pipes up now, settling back onto his shoulders. ‘Can you pass me the robin now, Jackson?’
‘I see now why you have a whole day dedicated to it,’ he mumbles, bending down, careful not to dislodge Jake as he digs in the box of unwrapped decorations. ‘This one?’
Jake grabs it. ‘Thank you.’
As much as I’m uncomfortable, I’m also loving it. In a heart-warming, send-your-soul-to-mush kind of a way. Which I know is bad. Bad for the barriers I need to keep in place around my heart, bad for what the future has in store—just bad. But watching Jackson surrounded by my family, giving him an inkling of what Christmas can be like with a family such as mine, it feels...special. A gift almost.
We may not be a real couple, but we are friends, and I can give him that at least. Although he may not see it in quite the same way. Having spent two hours with us already, he’s had a grilling from each of my brothers, had his cheeks pinched by Gran, and been poured a welcome-to-the-family whisky by Dad.
I’ll be lucky if our friends-with-benefits arrangement lasts the day.
‘You can head off if you need to?’ I rush the question out and it has his lips quirking up, his eyes laughing into mine.
‘You’re kidding, right? I don’t dare. I’m sure Marlene has already adjusted the table.’
‘Granny Marlene has it sorted,’ Annie butts in, pulling out another piece of tinsel and contemplating where she can hang it off Jackson next. ‘She made Dad peel more veg.’
‘Did she now?’ I take hold of Annie’s shoulders and turn her towards the living room. ‘Why don’t you take the tinsel through there, to the right tree, before you have Jackson tied down?’
My cheeks flush as the memory of being tied down for real scores my brain. My eyes flit to Jackson and I know he’s thinking the same. I give a quick shake of my head to his deep laugh.
‘Right, Captain Jake,’ he declares, ‘what’s next?’
‘Are you sure?’ I say softly. I don’t want him scared off—I don’t want him to leave now either, but if it means keeping our fragile arrangement in place I’d rather he went and I saw him later.
But his grin is wide as he looks to me and his eyes shine. ‘Yes.’
His happiness doesn’t look fake. He looks surprisingly at home and my chest eases, my heart not so much. I want this and I want it for real.
He frowns. ‘Hey, are you okay?’
He’s asking me and I know the blood has left my face, my throat too tight to speak. I curse Blondie for breaking him, I curse my heart for not playing ball, I curse it all as I swallow and give him a nod. ‘Hangover.’
‘Right, who’s up for eggnog?’ Matt, my eldest brother walks in, his heavily pregnant wife, Marie, in his wake.
‘Please tell me it’s a yes,’ she says. ‘I certainly can’t drink it, not with the amount of rum Granny has put in it.’
‘Sorry, love, but she’s right, it wouldn’t be eggnog without it.’ He leans back to give her a kiss to the cheek, their love so obvious, and it stamps all over my bruised heart.
‘Thanks, Matt.’ I roll my eyes playfully. ‘You know Jackson has to drive later, right?’
‘I can get us a cab,’ the driver in question says, like it’s nothing. Like staying here and playing happy families with my enormous family is an everyday occurrence for him and I can’t prevent the look I send his way. I’m not sure if it’s panicked or grateful or soppy or all of the above.
‘You sure?’
‘Stop worrying,’ he whispers in my ear, low enough for me to hear, low enough for its deep resonance to send a tremor of excitement running through my body.
‘I sure am.’ He lowers Jake from his back and slips his arm around my waist, startling my nerve endings into a dizzying dance. ‘Unless you’re not up to more alcohol just yet?’
I erupt on a breathless laugh. ‘No, I’m ready.’
We join my brother and his wife, scooping up a glass each. ‘Cheers.’
We clink them together and drink.
I take in the happy smiles, the perfect moment, and wish so hard I could make it real. I hold Jackson’s eye and see everything I want looking back at me...
Why can’t you just love me?
* * *
I don’t know what’s happening other than the fact that this feels nice; it feels like I belong, which in itself is ridiculous. I don’t belong at all. I’ve never been part of a family. I’ve never been fussed over, looked after, fed even.
But her family have sucked me into their warm bubble and I can’t escape it.
Worse, I’m not ready to escape it.
I tell myself it feels good because it’s for her. It’s for Cait and it’s making her happy. I tell myself it’s okay because we’re only pretending to be a couple for the sake of her family. That outside of this we are still just friends.
I focus on her and the happiness that glows around the table—the bustling table that’s big enough to hold a football team and then some. Her brothers have eased up on me now that a few drinks have been consumed and we’re talking football; there’s a lot to be said for supporting the same team. As for their wives and her mum, they’ve eagerly welcomed me in and I get the impression they’re just happy that Cait’s ‘finally’ brought a boyfriend home.
The one person I struggle with is her dad. It’s one thing to be polite, friendly, happy with everyone else, but with him... I don’t want to pretend. Not about his daughter, who I know is his world. I don’t doubt for a second that the Careys love their kids equally, but she is a daddy’s girl, the youngest and the one they were holding out for, thanks to the sons that came before.
I know all this because they’ve actually said it, joked about it even. They’re all so free and open and loving. Just as Cait is.
I feel the heavy weight in my gut, the tug on my heart that won’t quit, and I have to cough to swallow the dessert wine her father has just poured for me.
‘Very nice,’ I say, keeping my eye contact brief as I battle with my conscience and the wish that things could be different. ‘Thank you.’
‘Thank you for helping; we’d still be decorating if you hadn’t turned up.’ He winks at me as he sits back down at the table. ‘Not to mention the help with the rabble.’
He gestures to the kids; now fed and watered, all seven have left the table and are once again tearing around like they’re on speed, though Cait assures me it’s just the excitement of Christmas running in their veins.
‘It’s been a pleasure.’ And it has, in spite of my inner turmoil.
I know I’ve yet to convince Cait though. I catch the occasional crease between her brows when she’s watching
me; I’ll reassure her as soon as I get her home.
I’ll reassure her all the more once I get her in that elf get-up again and do everything I wanted to do last night and more. I’ll reassure her when it’s back to being about sex. Just sex. Because loving her is too easy when I can mask it in make-believe.
‘You know, you could always stay, Cait? You and Jackson are more than welcome, and your old room is all made up.’
She tenses up beside me. I tense too.
‘No, thanks, Mum. I have work tomorrow; it’s easier if—’
I watch the way the light threatens to flicker out in her mother’s face, see her father place his hand over his wife’s arm and the latter speaks volumes.
‘It’s okay, Cait, I can drop you back at yours early enough tomorrow.’
Her head snaps to me, her surprise so evident in her frown. ‘Really?’
‘Yes...if you’d like to?’ I add a nod when I see her continued hesitation.
‘Okay.’ She shakes her head at me, her smile disbelieving, but there’s a glow about her, a happiness, and my chest tightens. It’s hardly keeping it about the sex, playing happy families. But seeing her happy, her mother and father too, it makes it feel right.
I don’t know what the deal is, whether they don’t see Cait much these days and miss her, or whether they’re worried about her in general, but I know having her stay is important to them and I can do this.
And what about tomorrow, and the next day and the next, when they expect you to be an item?
She leans over and kisses my cheek. ‘Thank you.’
I breathe in her floral scent, her happiness, and smile. ‘You’re welcome.’
I’m sure we can work our way out of this when we’re ready. But for now I’m going to enjoy making Cait happy. I’m going to enjoy being a normal everyday couple, in a normal everyday family...
And maybe, just maybe, Granny’s eggnog went to your head hours ago.
* * *
I climb out of bed to turn off the light, but as my finger hovers over the switch I turn back to look at him. Jackson. In my bed. My childhood bed.
It couldn’t be more fantastical if my bedding was still covered in fluffy rabbits and flowers. I’ve never brought a partner home.
And I haven’t now, I remind myself and ignore the twist to my stomach.
He looks at me, the white quilt slung low over his bare chest, one arm hooked behind his head, the other over his front. I trace his tattoo down and my mouth dries. My very own pin-up. Only he’s not on my walls, he’s in my bed, and he’s completely naked. Younger me would definitely squeal.
He cocks one sexy brow. ‘You going to stand there all night?’
I wet my lips. ‘No, I’m just taking this in for later recall.’
He laughs softly and rolls onto his side, palming the space next to him. ‘I’ll give you plenty more to remember if you get yourself over here.’
Oh, yes.
Off goes the light and I pad over to him. I can just make out his silhouette in the dark and the excited flutters in my belly feel like they’re trying to escape through my throat.
He lifts the covers to welcome me in, letting them fall around me as I join him. His hands are hot on my skin as they smooth beneath my T and pull me closer. I wriggle into him, my hands against his chest, his hardness pressing into my belly as he cradles me to him.
This feels too good, too nice. I blink up at him in the dark. ‘Thank you for today.’
He lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me gently. ‘You don’t need to thank me. I’ve had a good time.’
I press back off his chest, trying to read his expression even though I can’t. ‘You have?’
I sense his grin. ‘Yes. Why are you so surprised?’
I give a soft laugh. ‘Because my family are full-on. Because you met the entire lot in one day and you’re not...we’re not...’ I can’t even bring myself to say it and his arms tense around me. ‘It’s just a lot.’
He’s quiet and I wish the lights were back on so I could see his face. All I have to go on is the gentle stroking of his fingers against my skin as he continues to hold me.
‘It’s okay; you can admit it.’ I say softly. ‘There aren’t many men who can cope with an all-out family affair, even when they are in a relationship.’
‘I have enjoyed it, Cait. You’re lucky to have such a loving family, and they’re lucky to have you too.’ He presses a kiss to my brow and I breathe it in, the caress, his softness, his words. ‘By being here, I know we’ve made them happy, and that makes it the right thing to do.’
‘But it’s a lie.’
He tightens his hold around me and swallows my words with a kiss so fierce. ‘This isn’t a lie.’
He rolls me under him. ‘And if it makes your family happy, while we’re happy like this...’ he rolls his hips into me to emphasise his point and I whimper as I wrap my legs around him and move to meet him ‘...where’s the harm?’
He’s right—where is the harm? People fall in and out of relationships all the time. And when this is over he’ll just be a boyfriend passing through.
It is fine.
Or it would be if my heart could let him go as easily. My eyes prick and I squeeze them shut.
‘No harm,’ I whisper, throwing my focus into the fiery path he’s creating with his mouth, along my jaw, down my neck, his kisses no longer fierce. They’re soft, teasing, tantalising, as his hard length presses against my knickers and urges my hips to roll.
I lose myself in the sensation of Jackson making love—no, fucking me. Though this doesn’t feel like ‘fucking’, not the kind we’ve done to date. He’s gentle, his hands smoothing over my skin as he encourages me to strip off my T.
‘You are beautiful, Caitlin,’ he murmurs as I rise up and pull it over my head, his hands quick to cover me. ‘Your skin is so soft. I’ve dreamed of you these last four months—the way you taste, the way you feel, the freckles that trail down your front...’ His fingers caress the very same path, teasing at the lines of my bra and making me whimper for more. ‘I love how responsive you are, I love how your nipples tighten for me...’ He tweaks one and kisses me at the same time, swallowing my moan.
‘We have neighbours, remember.’
Oh, God. Mum. Dad. Granny!
‘You think you can keep quiet?’
‘Do you?’ I whisper back. He’s hardly quiet and the truth is I love how vocal he is; I love his growl that seems to stay deep within his throat, I love his dirty talk.
Enough with the ‘love’, Cait.
He started it though—his long list of things he ‘loves’ about me... If only.
A tormented cry rises up within me and I kiss him to trap it, to bury it, to tell myself to take all he is willing to give and be happy. But he’s so slow, savouring, unhurried and it feels too gentle, too caring, too confusing.
His hands smooth around my back to release my bra clasp and I shimmy out of it, toss it aside and his fingers commence their slow path over my skin, down my hips, beneath the strap of my knickers as he eases them down my legs and I take over once more, flicking them away with my foot and pulling him back to me.
He laughs softly. ‘You’re in such a rush.’
I gulp down the emotion. ‘I want you.’
‘I want you too, baby.’
I nod and our noses brush. I can see his eyes glint in the dark. He’s looking right at me, inside me—he must see it. My love for him. And if he does, why isn’t he running? Why is he running his cock up and down my seam as though he has all the time in the world? Why is he stroking my hair back from my face like he...like he loves me too?
‘Jackson?’
‘Yes.’
‘What are we doing? Really?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘This isn’t just sex, is it?’
He drags in a shaky breath and for a second I feel like he’s going to withdraw so I wrap my legs around him for insurance and I stroke the tense muscles of his back. I tell him with my body that I don’t want this to stop, regardless of whether he can give me what I want or tell me what I need to hear in this moment.
‘No.’ It’s so raw, it’s so honest. ‘It could never be just sex with you, Caitlin. I think that’s why I avoided it for so long.’
‘Why avoid something that feels so right?’
‘Because I’m no good for you. I’ve told you before.’
‘But I don’t understand.’
He lowers his head and presses his forehead against mine. ‘I’m fucked up, Cait. I know nothing of relationships—good relationships, healthy ones.’
‘That’s not true. Look at Coco and Ash. Look at my entire family; it’s bursting with them.’
‘I’m the issue. Not those around me. Not you.’
‘Why? Because you were brought up by your father? Because your mum left you? Because of...because of the blonde?’
He was tense before but now he’s cold, his skin prickling with goose bumps, and I know I’ve fucked up.
‘I’m just trying to understand, Jackson.’
His swallow is audible in the dark. ‘I know you are.’
‘Then tell me...’ I keep up the slow stroke of my fingers on his back and I keep my legs wrapped around him. ‘Trust me with it.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Please, Jackson.’
He kisses me, his lips brushing so softly against mine, and when he lifts his head I swear his eyes are damp in the low light. ‘I’d rather make love to you.’
My breath catches, my heart pulses—make love. ‘But you...’
‘This I can do...’
My brain finishes the sentence for him.
And it’s enough. I think of Jackson four months ago, the one who swore he would never make love... This is something, and for now it’s enough.
‘Yes,’ I whisper, kissing him back, angling my body to meet him and when he enters me I trap my sob in our kiss. I let him fill me, rock into me, and with every thrust I silently tell him that I love him, that I want to keep him, that I want us to work.
Unwrapping the Best Man Page 14