Eight (Love by Numbers Book 6)

by E. S. Carter

  And there’s her Princess Ivy eye roll at which I don’t bother to hide my small laugh. “Okay, okay, I was just asking. How about another question?”

  She looks at me thoughtfully and nods, still unsure if I’m going to tease her.

  “How about we pack a picnic and head to the beach?”

  “Yay! I think that’s a grrrr-eat idea, Daddy,” she exclaims, dragging out the start of the word great just like her Uncle Iz would when he played with her.

  “Da-Da,” Arthur adds to the conversation.

  “I think your brother likes that idea too. How about Arthur helps me make the picnic, and you go into your room and find your swimsuit, beach towel and sun lotion?”

  “Okay, Daddy,” she agrees before skipping away happily.

  “C’mon, Arty,” I say conspiratorially. “I’ll slip in an extra cheese stick if you don’t tell your sister I just used that nickname again.”

  “Da-Da.”

  “Good boy. Us men have to stick together you know. She’ll have us wrapped around her little finger otherwise.”

  Less than an hour later we have the perfect spot a short distance from the calm water’s edge. Our parasol shades Arthur from the sun as he bashes down the sandcastle I just made, while Ivy paddles in the crystal-clear shallows, looking for fish. It’s calm, peaceful and idyllic.

  Having chosen a smaller, lesser known beach, that very few of the Ibiza tourist crowd bother to find, it’s only us here with a handful of young families and a group of three women sprawled out on towels about twenty-five feet away.

  I lean back on my elbows, close my eyes and tip my head briefly towards the sun, listening to the sounds of Ivy splashing and Arthur babbling as he aggressively destroys my sand artistry with his fists.

  A shadow passes over the sky, and I tilt my head and blink up at the woman whose silhouette is covering my head and torso, and is blocking out the warmth of the sun’s rays on my face.

  “Excuse me, is this yours?” she asks, holding a pink beach ball towards me.

  I flick my eyes from her sunhat obscured face to the item in her hand and recognise Ivy’s ball immediately.

  “Yes, thanks, it sure looks like it,” I reply as I push up from the ground to stand, brushing sand from my backside and then my hands.

  “It’s my little girl’s, but I swear it was in the bag just a moment ago.”

  I turn, and motion towards the large beach bag filled to the brim with all the necessities you need for taking two small children to the beach, and sure enough, the ball is missing.

  “Huh,” I say with disbelief, turning to face the woman again. “I guess it escaped. Thanks for returning it. I’m sure Ivy would have been a little miffed had it gone missing.”

  And with that sentence, and likely hearing her name, she comes barrelling the few feet up from the sea to have a snoop at who I’m talking to and why a stranger is holding her ball.

  “That’s mine,” she says proprietarily to the lady as she eyes her ball while holding on to the side of my leg, and her dual meaning isn’t lost on me. The defiance in her eyes is evident, and yet it’s an uncommon expression for Ivy. She loves meeting new people. Although, when my gaze goes back to the mocha skinned, and seductively curvy woman before us, wearing little more than a few triangles attached by strings, I can see why Ivy’s marking her territory and damn if it doesn’t make me proud.

  If I were of the mindset to find anyone attractive, the woman before me would be sure to tempt a saint, but I’m not, and she doesn’t. Does that make me a saint? No, it makes me a married man in complete and utter love with his wife. Always have been, and always will be.

  Laura Smiles.

  “Say thank you, Ivy. The kind lady found it and was just returning it to you.”

  Ivy continues to eye the newcomer like a potential threat but eventually forces out a reluctant, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, pretty girl,” the woman with the sinful curves and sweet smile says, handing over the pink ball to Ivy. When Ivy takes it, and the woman’s eyes catch mine, I see a smirk there. Almost like she knows my little girl is wary of her and the reason why she’s marking her territory is the threat this woman poses.

  Her gaze runs briefly down my bare torso then lands on the hand cupping Ivy’s head, the one with my wedding ring, and lingers there.

  “Well,” she says after a beat. “I’d best get back to my friends.” She motions with a flick of her hand behind her, and I’m more than aware that we’ve had an audience for this entire exchange but I don’t make it obvious, and ignore the eyes of the women boring into my back.

  “It was nice meeting you, Ivy.” She bends at the waist to speak at eye-level with my daughter, then when she straightens she smiles wide and speaks directly to me. “And it was nice meeting you too, Ivy’s Dad.”

  With a quick wink and a sultry smile, she turns on her heels and returns to her friends. I guess any other man would’ve watched her go, but I only have eyes for my jealous little girl as she stares daggers into the woman’s retreating form.

  “C’mere, Princess Ivy.” I bend and gather my daughter up in my arms, and she latches onto me like a limpet. Her wet skin sticks to mine as all four of her limbs wrap around me. “How about Arthur and me come and join you on your fish hunt?”

  Ivy eventually tears her eyes from the woman and focuses them on me, relief wiping away her annoyance once she realises she has me all to herself again.

  “If we catch any, can we put them in my bucket and take them home?”

  “If we catch any, how about we put them in your bucket, and we can watch them for a little while, but before we go, we return them to their home in the sea, so that they can be with their families?”

  She thinks about my suggestion and smiles.

  “That’s the best idea. Nobody should miss their family.”

  “No, they shouldn’t,” I agree before kissing her cheek and setting her down on her feet. I walk over to Arthur, scoop him up on my hip and then take her hand. As we walk the couple of feet to the water’s edge, I decide to give my children what they both need. What I need.

  “How about when we get home we give Nanna a call and see if she and Grampy would like to come and visit us?”

  Ivy stops in her tracks, while Arthur wriggles on my hip just itching to get in the water.

  “I think that’s the best idea ever,” my little girl says, turning back to give me a tight hug. “I’ve missed them so much.”

  “Me too, Princess Ivy. Me too.”

  “I cannot believe you just did that,” I curse through gritted teeth at Zoey while Rachel covers her laughter with her hand.

  “And you can stop bloody laughing. You encouraged her to go over to ‘Mr Grumpy Rude Prick’ and steal his kid’s ball. You should be ashamed of yourself. And all so you could both check him out.”

  “I did not check him out,” Zoey exclaims in mock indignation. Placing her hand on her ample breasts, just above her heart as if I’ve wounded her.

  “Don’t act all coy and holier than thou,” I warn her. “I watched you all but thrust the girls-” I motion with my hand towards her ridiculously perfect tits “-in his face.”

  She draws in a lungful of air on a gasp and the perfect tits I mentioned rise and fall in a display of womanly perfection.

  “I did no such thing,” Zoey pouts. “Besides, his eyes never once dropped from my face, not even for a second. He’s likely gay.”

  “Or still grieving,” Rachel adds thoughtfully, and we all turn to watch the handsome man with more issues than the three of us put together - and that’s saying something - walk down the beach with his kids in tow. I can’t help but allow my feelings to soften towards him when I stare through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. The scene he makes with his adorable kids is almost picture perfect. Almost. Because I know someone is missing and I wonder who the woman was that undoubtedly made that family complete. She must have been beautiful as their son looks like his dad while the littl
e girl is his opposite and must take after her mother. And that little girl surpasses adorable - she is stunning. Besides, I can’t see a man that looks the way he does, not having an attractive woman on his arm. Yes, he’s a complete wanker, whether he has reason to be or not, but he’s also ridiculously handsome with his dark hair, unkempt stubble and sexy thick rimmed glasses, that today have been swapped out for aviators. His body is lean and toned but more like a swimmer than a gym buff, and his eyes, for the few moments I stared into them, are the stormiest grey I’ve even seen.

  “Shit, that was insensitive of me,” Zoey all but whispers as we surreptitiously watch him play in the water with his children. “He looks nothing like Nate, and I forgot the guy is his brother, which meant I totally forgot what he went through last year. He still wears her ring. I saw it when I was talking to him.”

  “You think he doesn’t look like Nate?” Rachel muses.

  “Not at all,” Zo continues thoughtfully. “I mean Nate has the whole alpha vibe going on, plus his features and colouring are different. Whereas, that guy-” she motions with a tilt of her head to the water’s edge where we all once again watch entranced as he scoops up fish in a net and places them in his little girl’s bucket. “-he’s broody in a hot nerd kind of way.”

  “He’s a complete wanker,” I state rather too vehemently causing both my friend’s eyebrows to rise. I don’t expect they’ve ever heard me cuss out anyone before, but the way this bloke treated me the other day was rude as heck.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I warn, pointlessly rolling my eyes beneath my sunglasses. “I did you a favour, Rach.” I point at my friend a little too enthusiastically. “Which was a favour to Nate, and that guy over there-” again, with the over expressive finger pointing. “-he was an arsehole.”

  “What exactly did he say to get you so riled up?” Zoey asks, eager for more information.

  I turn my head to look once more at the man now waist deep in the aqua waters, a child on each hip.

  “Nothing,” I reply, never taking my eyes off him. “Not a single word.”

  The rest of our beach day passes by with lots of girly chatter. Including, but not limited to, gossip about other Aurora staff members – who was hooking up with who, who hadn’t turned up for their last shift, who had messed up the VIP bar account, that kind of thing – and the date that Rachel had planned for a few night’s time with the drummer from one of our regular bands. He’s been asking her out for weeks, but she spurned his advances, until now.

  I didn’t want to bring up this particular topic in front of Zoey, what with her feelings for Rachel, but I was torn between being excited for my one friend and saddened for my other.

  “So, has Zeke told you where he’s taking you on Sunday night?”

  I figured that was a safe opening line, but I didn’t fail to notice the slight flinch Zoey gave at my words, which she covered up by turning from her back to her stomach.

  Rachel, totally oblivious to the feelings of her friend lying alongside her, pushes her sunglasses up onto her head and turns to look at me.

  “No. The last text he sent just said to wear whatever I felt comfortable in, and that I’d look good in a brown paper bag.”

  An unladylike snort came from Zoey at Rachel’s words, and she mumbled under her breath, “Smooth, so smooth.”

  Rachel didn’t miss the comment.

  “What? I thought it was quite sweet.”

  Zoey thankfully remained silent, and Rach continued coyly, “It’s my first date in over six months. I’m more than a little nervous if I’m honest.”

  “Don’t be,” I reassure her. “You’re funny, hot, have great hair, are more persuasive than anyone I’ve ever met, are loyal…”

  “Hey, are you trying to boost my confidence or write my dating profile?”

  I laugh at that but don’t miss the flash of pain across Zoey’s face.

  “What? I have two of the hottest best friends on the planet, and not only that, they don’t know how amazing they are, so that makes me pretty lucky and maybe I should tell you guys all this a little more.”

  “And who is gonna tell you the same thing, ‘cos you sure don’t listen to us when we say it to you,” Rach replies. “I mean, I’ve known you almost two years, Hal, and you’ve never been on a single date.”

  I groan and flop onto my back.

  “Yeah, I agree,” Zoey tags on once Rach has finished. “You’re twenty-five, not eighty-five. I know Ian, the complete fuck-nugget, did a number on you, but you’re gonna die an old maid, and your hoo-ha is gonna close up if it doesn’t get some action soon.”

  “Thanks, for the sage advice on the state of my hoo-ha, Zo,” I mutter under my breath, wondering how this conversation got turned back around to me.

  “We were talking about Rachel’s upcoming date and not my non-existent sex life,” I warn, knowing that my words are a direct hit to Zoey’s heart but needing to shut down this conversation and fast.

  The girls know what happened with my ex and only boyfriend. I mean, he’s the reason I’m in Ibiza in the first place. But they don’t know my past, and they don’t know that I’m still in Ibiza, still coasting through life two years later because I have nothing and no one else to go home to; this is my home, and these girls are my family. They’re also the only one I’ve ever had. It’s impossible to explain to someone with roots, with a history and a family that loves them, what it’s like to never know that kind of love. It’s how I ended up with Ian. He promised me everything I never had and found myself craving, only to be a liar and a user and the worst type of person. One who preys upon another’s vulnerability. One who targets their weaknesses and exploits them for his gain or often just his entertainment. I’ll never allow another person to do what he did to me. I’ll never be someone else’s toy. I’ll never be a man’s pet because I’ll never be that girl again. She died that night, and there was nobody to mourn her.

  I look back at Nate’s brother and his adorable children who are now packing up their belongings, and I wonder how much you have to love someone to feel the kind of grief he lives with every day. I have a sudden pang of jealously towards his dead wife. What must it feel like to be loved like that?

  “We’ve missed you all so much,” my mother whispers hoarsely into my ear, her emotions almost getting the better of her as we stand in a crushing embrace at Palma airport’s arrivals hall.

  “I’m sorry, Mum. I messed up. I really messed up,” I confess into the curve of her neck. My admission is poorly timed as swarms of people bypass us to begin their holidays. I beg for forgiveness while holding onto the woman who has been my one constant, while holidaymakers dodge around us as they go off to have the time of their lives making memories with their friends and loved ones. They chase memories while I’ve avoided them for months. The irony is not lost on me as I ignore everything else but my mother’s embrace.

  She slowly relaxes her tight hold but never releases me as she draws back slightly to look in my face. What I see reflected there is tenderness, affection, understanding, relief and love.

  “No, son. You didn’t mess anything up. You wore your pain as a shield, a mask of sorts, but we always saw you beneath. We always knew that in time you’d come back to us. Back to you.”

  “I’m glad you had faith in me because I didn’t have any in myself, and I’m still not sure I have much in me now.”

  She cups my face with her palms, her thumbs smoothing the apples of my cheeks and replies, “You’re not broken, Josh. Not by any means. Life has bullied you, battered you, torn you apart, but it hasn’t beaten you. You just can’t yet see what we see.”

  “And what do you see?” I can’t help but ask. “Because the man that stares at me in the mirror isn’t the man I was or the man I want to be.”

  “Oh, my darling,” she replies with a sad smile. “He’s there. He’s a little battle weary, but he’s there. You just have to let go of the guilt you feel and allow him to live.”

  We st
are at each other a beat and I see nothing but acceptance in her eyes.

  “I lucked out getting you as a mother,” I admit with a smile of my own.

  She takes me by the arm, hooks her elbow around mine and leads us towards my father who is currently overwhelmed by both Ivy and Arthur.

  “Oh, I know you did, darling,” she replies with aplomb. Her hand squeezes my bicep as she adds, “It’s my birthday soon. Expensive gifts that show your appreciation are always welcomed.”

  I can’t help it, I laugh. Loud. Causing my father and Ivy to turn as we approach, my Dad’s eyes widening at the sound of my joy.

  “It’s good to see you, old man.” I greet my father with a full body hug, none of those manly handshakes for us, and he holds onto me a little longer than he usually would. His releasing back pat is a little shaky in its delivery, and I don’t miss the sheen in his eyes when he pulls back and says, “Less of the old man. I can still tan your arse for you.”

  Another barked laughed erupts from my lips.

  “When did you ever ‘tan’ any of our arses? I don’t know how you and Mum did it, but I don’t think any one of us ever received any form of corporal punishment.

  “Jake came close,” my mother adds from my side.

  In the time it’s taken for me to embrace my father and turn to face her, she now has Ivy on one hip and Arthur on the other, both my kids wearing matching smiles that beam from their faces.

  “That I can believe.” I nod in agreement. “He’s still the most difficult to control.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” my father interjects. “Emma seems to have figured him out.”

  “The love of a good woman can work miracles,” I reply to my father, but my words are for my mother. She smiles at me but doesn’t miss the dual meaning of my words. They are intended both for her and for the woman that gave meaning to my life.

  Laura Smiles.

  “Let’s go, Daddy,” Ivy demands, breaking me out of my inner thoughts at just the right time. There is no place for sadness here today. Our family has been reunited and it’s time to make amends and move forward. Together.