Beyond Angel Avenue

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  I can’t move my legs!

  “Bloody hell, Warrick, now look what you’ve done.”

  I spot out of my periphery – Jules in a haze of silver and white – dashing our way.

  “Terry? What’s wrong with him?”

  I’m fucking this all up. I’m fucking our lives up already. I should go, now. I should let her get on with her life. I’m bad news. I mean – two weeks after Joe moved in with us, we got poop posted again and Jules caught my ex-wife on camera. Anna’s been suspended from work and Jules took out a restraining order.

  It’s all my fault.

  “Give us a minute, Terry.”

  I vaguely watch my father leave our side and he heads off to help Ruby into the building.

  I can’t look at Jules. This is bad luck. It’s all going to go tits up.

  “I’m late,” she says, her voice quivering, “four weeks in fact. I didn’t say anything until now because I can hardly believe it’s real but I’m four weeks late and I don’t know if I deserve to be pregnant and happy. I feel so happy some days, I’m terrified something is going to come and rip it all away. I’m having your baby and I love you more than anything else in the world. I’ve put so much faith in you, now put some in me,” she begs, her hand reaching for mine, “I love you so much, Warrick. Please.”

  “Pregnant?”

  “I think so,” she says nodding, but I’m only seeing her from out of the corner of my eye.

  “You haven’t taken a test?”

  “No, but I’m never late and the smell of deodorant has started to turn my stomach.”

  I remember when Anna told me we were having Joe. It wasn’t planned. I didn’t want kids so young but I went with it, even knowing my career would keep me out of the house and uninvolved in a lot of his upbringing.

  “Say something!” she demands, her body starting to shiver.

  I turn my head finally and when I see her, all my worries fall away. She’s the most incredible woman I’ve ever known and she wants me. She’s angelic beyond reason, a vision. We stand together at the same time and I notice she’s caught her hem on the snow.

  “Oh, your dress babes.”

  Shaking her head, she insists with a giggle, “It’s just snow. I’ve gone for a wintry theme anyway. Or rather, Vernon did!”

  She’s wearing a satin, silver dress with a fluffy white shrug around her shoulders. The gown is so simple but astoundingly elegant, just like Jules. It’s empire line, her favourite style of dress. Little jewels decorate the drawn-in waist and shoulder straps. The material hangs from her like she was born to wear it and her long, long hair is cascading over her shoulders and down her back in casual, carefree curls, her make-up as understated as she is. In heels, she’s taller than me but I’ve never minded.

  “My god, I don’t know what I’m waiting for.” I slam the car door shut and she takes my arm. “Nothing about us is ever conventional, you know? I’ve probably jinxed our whole lives, seeing you before the wedding.”

  She pulls on my arm and demands, “Let’s just sign that bloody paper and have done. I wanna be alliteratively named… and fast.”

  We walk inside laughing hysterically and she doesn’t even walk down the aisle to the music we had prepared or on Vernon’s arm like she was going to. She walks down the aisle with me and after we become Mr and Mrs Jones before a submarium tank full of tropical fish, not to mention my dad, Wendy, Joe, my best friend from work Brian and his boyfriend Liam, Vernon, Ruby and Jack, her old boss who’s brought his wife Helena, everyone but Jules gets roaring drunk and it kind of gives the game away. By the stars we dance and by the blue deep we kiss, surrounded by nothing but our endless love.

  I know I’ll always love her, for as long as I live, but I just fear what’s inside me. I’ve always feared it.

  Chapter Seven

  Jules

  We’re kissing in bed, surrounded by what feels like all the snow in the world, ready to fall down on us at any moment. Our log cabin near Fort William wasn’t easy to get to, surrounded by lochs and the Glencoe mountains. I was glad I had the forethought to hire an SUV for our trip because we wouldn’t have made it otherwise – what with the two foot of snow outside. It’s very romantic, however, feeling so trapped, so cut off from the world. We’re not short on supplies, not since our wedding guests found out about our last-minute honeymoon and ignored our pleas not to bother buying us any wedding presents. We drove here with the boot packed with luxury food hampers, enough to feed a family for a month.

  “I love you Mrs Jones,” he tells me in a silvery voice, his lips caressing my shoulder.

  I don’t know if it’s the hormones, but I’m wild for him right now. I’ve actually been a lot wilder since I came off the pill and got my libido back again. I don’t know if he knows what’s hit him, really.

  “Love you, husband,” I reply, tugging his hair gently, my feet stroking his legs. It’s so warm and cosy in our bed.

  It’s Sunday today and I doubt anywhere will be open. The morning after the wedding, Warrick slept off his hangover in the passenger seat while I drove the first part of the journey. Having not driven for so long, it was good to drive again and remember what the rest of our country looks like as we ventured north. Warrick drove us the rest of the way, once we hit Scotland’s winding roads and steep inclines, requiring several gear changes.

  “I think I’m gonna sell the Mini.”

  “What? You love that thing!” I giggle as he gently tickles my armpits, his sole purpose on this honeymoon to explore every inch of me it seems.

  “It won’t be practical for us now we’re going to be a family.”

  “We can get a second car? You can have that as a toy.”

  “Nah, you know I don’t keep redundant stuff. I couldn’t look at it knowing it’s been demoted, nah, someone else will make use of it for me. I still love it but not as much as I love you and I’m not driving my pregnant wife around in a rust bucket, no way.”

  I pull his hair and tug his head so he has to look up at me. I pout and flutter my eyes dramatically, making him laugh. “Say it again.”

  “Wife,” he repeats.

  “Ah, yeah,” I groan, getting hot because to hear him say that turns me on. “Screw me husband, god, I can’t get enough of you calling me your wife.”

  He slithers down the bed and kisses my stomach softly, his hands holding my hips. He slowly edges his way between my legs and when his first lick sets my belly on fire, I throw my legs down his back and rub my boobs for him.

  “But it’s such a loved rust bucket.” I groan as he kisses my inner thighs, teasing me.

  “I know but I’m going to get you a car and me one, too. Sensible ones. We can’t have a rust bucket in the family. I’m thinking of your safety.”

  He nudges his nose in my folds and I gasp with pleasure when his tongue reaches for me. I don’t know anything else but pleasure for the next half an hour – and then it gets even better when he makes love to me slowly, tenderly, nothing but love and awe in his eyes. We don’t need a test to tell us I’m pregnant. The feeling’s there between us – I’m carrying him inside me.

  ***

  My husband’s thirty-eight but he has never looked more handsome or happy than he does right now. It’s Monday morning and two nights here have chilled us out already. I’m watching him sleep as I try to fight the urge to throw up. It’s not that I will throw up – my stomach is empty – but I wake every day feeling like I might. I don’t want to wake him because he’s so peaceful but I desperately need a cup of sweet tea to settle my stomach. I’ll just have to get it myself.

  The cabin is all open plan and at the back of the property, it’s one sheet of glass and no wood, giving a panoramic view of the snowy vistas outside. We’ve not been drawing the curtains and so, the morning light is what I wake up with but it doesn’t bother me – even when I was abroad I was an early riser – years of teaching must have drilled it into me.

  As I stand naked in the kitchen, sure there c
an’t be anyone for miles, I spot the wood-burning stove in the sitting area and decide to throw on a log. It’s only just burnt out and it’s warm in the house but I love the comfort of a burning flame, giving me something to sit and stare at. When the kettle’s boiled, I look across the room to see Warrick hasn’t moved a muscle. I love that he can sleep through anything and wish I had that same gift.

  Feeling a chill suddenly, I quickly mash my tea in the hope of getting back to bed before a toe drops off with frostbite. With fluctuations in my body temperature, it’s sometimes hard to tell what the outside temperature is!

  Soft hands cup my boobs from behind and my tea spills over the counter as the teaspoon I had in my hand drops back into the cup from shock.

  “I didn’t hear you move over the kettle.”

  He nibbles my ear and rubs his thumbs over my nipples. “I know how to stalk the woman I love.”

  “Stalking eh? Why would you need to stalk me now I’m your wife?”

  He turns me for a kiss, kneading my buttocks in his hands. Through laboured breaths, he mutters, “You just said wife.”

  “Say husband back, go on,” I dare him.

  His eyes drowning in love and lust, he mutters, “Husband. I’m your husband.”

  I growl and throw my hands around his neck, kissing him hard. He tucks his hands under my thighs and lifts me into his arms. Walking us over to the glass wall, he pushes my back against the freezing-cold glass and rubs his erection through my slickness.

  Our tongues tasting each other, it’s not long before I feel the throb between my legs and the heavy need I have for him.

  When I’ve coated him so slickly that he easily slips inside, I grab onto his hair. “Warrick!”

  He grunts every time he thrusts inside me, deepening his reach, his cock swelling more with every pump of his hips. I must thank the stars every day for sending me not only his spirit to love and cherish forever, but also for making him good at using what he has.

  Warrick circles inside me, stirring our desire, pushing into me every time I begin to tremble around him. He knows how to maximise my reactions, how to stoke my pleasure and keep me wanting more.

  I feel so sick, so in need of that cup of tea on the sideboard, but he’s making it difficult for me to think about anything else but the searing pleasure between my legs.

  “Ohhh, why three years? Why?” he cries unexpectedly, his voice a hollow reflection of his usual self. “Why did you leave me, why Jules? Why?”

  He keeps pumping into me but I feel his tears at my shoulder and I’m shocked he’s bringing this up now, of all times. Maybe he finally feels safe enough to tell me how he feels.

  Between pants and cries of joy, I manage to relay, “I was testing your love. I wanted to see if you moved on with someone else…” He sucks my nipple, making me scream. I can feel an orgasm about to tear through me and I need him to push harder. “…I didn’t realise Anna was fucking crazy! I didn’t realise! I never could understand your love for me… I didn’t have any self-belief…” I pull his hair and gasp, his cock almost bringing me to orgasm but not quite hitting the spot because he knows how to keep me on edge. “…when I came back and saw your face and the same love you always had for me, I realised I’d been such a fool but at the same time…”

  He viciously pushes inside me, hitting that spot deep in my belly, tearing strong pulsations from me that milk him dry. He stops moving and sucks my throat, hoarse breaths in my ear.

  Catching my breath, I reveal, “I said we should have no regrets and so I travelled, I did everything I always wanted to. I met people who didn’t think I was half bad either and found I’m not the weirdo I always took myself to be. I’m not a saddo actually and I regained some sense of who I want to be and of what I want to achieve. I know you didn’t want to come abroad with me, didn’t want to leave your job and the work you do, so I left and lived for the both of us and I saw and did so much.”

  He lifts his face and stares at me, pink rings round his teary eyes. “I want to hear all about it. I’m ready. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you staying away because you didn’t love me enough. I just love you so much Jules and now you’re carrying our baby, I might kill anyone who tries to take you away again! I’m never letting you out of my sight, not ever again Jules. Never again.”

  “Put me back in bed,” I ask him wearily, “I’m okay with you clinging on tight, just with a soft mattress beneath us instead!”

  He guffaws and apologises under his breath, “Never happy, is she?”

  Once he’s laid me down, I ask, “My tea… I might be sick without it. Oh and get me my folic acid, will you?”

  One eyebrow raised, he tuts, “Might as well label me slave instead of husband.”

  “Get used to it, lover. Husband. Slave. All of the above!” I grunt and snigger, making him shake his head as he walks away.

  Chapter Eight

  Jules

  A little later, we’re bathing in the roll-top bath in the large, wood-panelled bathroom. Our view is the Glencoe mountains outside the window, flutters of snow showers on the way. I lean my head back and look up into his eyes. “Kiss me.”

  He cups my chin and searches my eyes; I want to swim and drown in his loving gaze. I’m deliriously in love with my husband and trying not to question our happiness is proving difficult for both of us, I think. His nose touches mine and he asks, “What will you give me for a kiss?”

  I try not to smile but it’s hard not to. “A kiss back.”

  “Where?” His large eyes crinkle, bright and wide.

  “Anywhere you like.”

  He tilts my chin and drops a kiss on my lips, his whiskers tickling the skin above my top lip. He brushes my mouth open and slips his tongue under my top lip, seeking for just a moment, before dropping a softer than soft kiss on my mouth. I’m weak at the knees and inside, my body is humming with happiness, my insides hot and slack. He tightens his arms around me and we relax back.

  “Don’t you want your kiss?”

  “Later. I have a mental IOU over you,” he chuckles, rubbing his hands up and down the outsides of my arms.

  We lie in complete peace and tranquillity and I remind him, “I still have my rucksack full of presents for you at home. It got thrown to the back of the wardrobe.”

  He links his fingers through mine. “The only Christmas gift I wanted was you and I got it. I didn’t need anything else.”

  I bought him mementoes of my trip, from all the places I visited. Sometimes I just picked him up a postcard, a seashell, a bit of bamboo, a tub of sand, an English staple food with Japanese writing on it, a can of beer he could never get at home, a picture of me with a landmark in the background, including the Great Wall of China, the Great Barrier Reef, Ayer’s Rock, the Grand Canyon, Empire State, Eiffel Tower, Niagara Falls and the Taj Mahal – and the list persisted. None of those experiences meant anything without him. Life was meaningless without Warrick.

  I have a confession to make, and there is no better time. “I wanted you to move on.”

  “What?”

  “Yep, I wanted you to move on. I hoped for it.”

  He takes my cheek and makes me look up at him. He’s scowling. “You have to be kidding me?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I wanted it all to go back to how it was before; me, living in that flat alone, surviving. I wanted it all to go back to being easy. It’s what I wanted. I sometimes wished I never knew what it was to love you because the pain of imagining you with her, it gripped me like an iron fist around a fragile egg.” I gulp because I can see the anger in his eyes. “I wanted everything to be easy again,” I repeat, “because I was a coward, because there was so much fucking shit in both our pasts, I couldn’t see us ever really working. I thought we were a fantasy, a beautiful dream not meant to last. I thought it could never be real. I wanted to pop the bubble before it popped me.”

  He’s breathing hard, rigid, his whole body tense. He swallows with effort and I wait to see if his face
will emerge from the stony expression he’s wearing.

  He says and does nothing, which means he’s beyond hurt. A cold tear slides from my eye.

  “I saw and did everything. I did everything. The whole Bucket List. It meant absolutely fuck all without you!” I avert my eyes from his, turning my body to face forward. “I should’ve been having the time of my life but when I was laughing with strangers who were my temporary friends, I was convincing myself it was amazing and I was living… I was doing everything nobody ever expected of me. But, it was bull. It was all fucking bull! I was running, I admit it. I was running. I had to work at convincing myself I was having the time of my life. The way you make me feel scares me so much. So much. You stole my heart when I didn’t even know what was happening. In the beginning it was so, so easy between us, until it wasn’t… until life got in the way and it fucked up and wasn’t perfect anymore. I can’t stop myself being a bitch sometimes. It’s just the way I am. I just got hurt too many times and I’m sorry, I’m just so sorry, Warrick!”

  He throws his arms around me and grips me tight, his strength pressing my body so hard, I feel like I’m in a vice. He kisses my cheek hard, over and over, and over again.

  “It was my job to protect you and I didn’t. I choked too,” he admits, “I know you have your failings but I don’t want you to have to deal with the shit of this world. I want to take it all and carry it on my shoulders alone, but I can’t keep doing that, I can’t.”

  “I know.” I nod, turning my head to rub my nose in the fur of his chest.

  “I have issues, I still have issues, too,” he admits, “but I want to share everything with you. I’m not afraid anymore because we’ve promised now; we’ll stick together no matter what, we’ll be here for one another and nothing can take what we have away, nothing. As long as we know what we have is real, nobody else matters.”

  I shudder with relief and grip his hands, desperate to hold him as strongly as he’s able to hold me. “You’re the love of my life, Julianne. I’ve been so lonely and so tired without you. I thought I was doing the right thing, letting you find yourself and have your time.”