The Great Escape

by Charlotte Fallowfield

  ‘It’s white gold and diamond. I wanted something that would last, like I hope our relationship will.’

  ‘I love it, and what it symbolises,’ I said as I spun to face him and flung my arms around his neck. He laughed as I peppered his face in grateful, and very touched, kisses. ‘And I hope we last that long too. While I don’t love the reason you were in Mexico, on your honeymoon alone, I love that it meant I got to meet you, as you’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.’

  ‘That means a lot, Georgie,’ he stated sincerely, then sucked his lips into his mouth as a frown marred his handsome features. ‘I need to tell you something, something I should have–’

  ‘Hey, you can ride him later, Georgie,’ Abbie yelled from downstairs, interrupting us and making me cringe. ‘We need to get going now. Andy’s up at the village hall with a coach to take us all into town.’

  ‘I’m coming,’ I yelled.

  ‘I’m not surprised if his package is as large as you implied.’

  ‘Shit, Abbie. I didn’t mean as in … I mean we’re coming down, I just need to grab my bag.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, get your hands off him, no matter how delicious he looks rocking that businessman “suited and booted” look,’ she called. ‘What? Well, he does look hot, although not as hot as you,’ I heard her add, clearly trying to placate Miller.

  ‘You do look exceptionally hot dressed like this,’ I agreed, as I ran my hands up and down his chest, desire unfurling in my belly.

  ‘Hey,’ Weston uttered as he circled my wrists in his strong grip. ‘I’ve only just made myself respectable again in the trouser department. Less of the lustful looks and hand action please.’

  ‘As long as you promise not to interrupt me later.’

  ‘That’s a promise I’m more than happy to make.’ He kissed me quickly, then released my hands and headed over to my bedroom door.

  ‘Weston, what did you want to tell me?’ I reminded him as I swept my bag off the bed.

  ‘It’s nothing, it can wait,’ he replied, gesturing for me to head down in front of him, to where we could hear the excited chatter of our guests as they all started to gather, ready to leave.

  Other than getting over the initial embarrassment of facing everyone again, I had a feeling we were going to have a fun night. One thing was for sure, my birthday couldn’t end any worse than it had started, especially not after Weston and I had been honest about our feelings for each other. I reached for his hand as we made our way downstairs together and squeezed it tightly.

  Chapter Nine

  Parental Approval

  Three Months Later – A Saturday in December

  ‘I DON’T KNOW WHY you’re so nervous. It’s not like you haven’t met them before,’ I reminded Weston as he sped down the country lanes of Cheshire for our overnight visit to my parents’ house.

  ‘It was only the once, Georgie. We barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries when we shook hands as I was introduced to them. And after you slinking into the lounge wearing clothes intended to seduce me and nearly giving them heart failure, they avoided us for the rest of the evening.’

  ‘Well, they’ve had time to calm down and get used to the fact that we’re a couple. I’m sure they’ll have forgotten all about it by now,’ I replied, not entirely believing my response, but wanting to try and reassure him.

  He’d been on edge from the moment he’d picked me up this morning. ‘Is it leaving Bertie behind, is that what’s wrong?’

  ‘What?’ he asked, flicking a quick look across at me.

  ‘There’s something wrong, I know there is, so don’t say there isn’t. My parents have dogs, they wouldn’t have minded Bertie coming with us. And I kind of miss him. You haven’t brought him over that much lately, not since the river incident. Do you blame me for what happened?’

  ‘Blame you? No, of course not.’

  ‘Then what’s going on?’ I demanded, certain he was holding something back. ‘You know that I don’t like secrets in a relationship, not after the whole nightmare with Greg. Turn left here.’

  ‘Nothing’s going on,’ he huffed as he slowed the car down. ‘I had a late night with clients last night and it was a really early start for the long journey from me to you, then driving up here. Forgive me for being anxious about making a good impression after the way our first meeting went.’

  ‘You have nothing to worry about,’ I replied, softening my tone and putting my hand over his on the gearstick. ‘If I’m happy, they’ll be happy.’

  ‘Right,’ he grated out as he pulled left and the large black wrought iron gates that guarded my parents’ drive appeared in our path, the double-fronted Georgian mansion visible down the avenue of trees. ‘Look at this place. There’s no way they’re going to think I’m good enough for you.’

  ‘Weston,’ I chastised, swallowing a ball of anxiety. He’d hit my fears on the head with his scarily accurate observation. As far as I was concerned, he was good enough for me, but I just had a feeling that when the matter of his job came up, a topic I’d deftly avoided each time it had been raised in phone conversations, I was going to see the look of disappointment on both of my parents’ faces. ‘We’re happy and in love, that’s all that matters. You need to press the buzzer and announce yourself. They won’t recognise the car on the security feed.’

  ‘I bet they employ bloody butlers or security guards as well,’ he muttered as he pressed the button for the driver’s window to go down.

  ‘Actually no, but so what if they did?’ I bit back, a little annoyed to feel judgement coming from him. I expected it from my parents, but not Weston. ‘I won’t apologise for having parents who are self-made and happen to enjoy the financial trappings that come with that. You’re dating me, not them.’

  ‘And I know what expectations they’ve laid on you over the years, Georgie. I’m pretty sure that I won’t meet their benchmark for approval, unlike Greg. Are you going to be happy to continue seeing a guy that your parents hate?’

  ‘For goodness sake,’ I muttered through gritted teeth. ‘Have I ever given you reason to doubt that you’re enough for me? No. So press the damn buzzer. I’m not having an argument over your insecurities right now. They’re expecting us for brunch and I don’t want to be late.’

  ‘Good morning, Sir. It’s Weston Argent with Georgie,’ he stated flatly when my father’s voice rang out over the speaker system.

  ‘Come on in,’ Dad replied. There was a clunking sound and the gates slowly started to open as Weston closed his window and flashed a look my way. I raised my eyebrows as I waited for him to say something.

  ‘Sorry, I just … it’s important they like me, Georgie. I don’t want their opinion of me getting in the way of our relationship.’

  ‘I’ve already told you that they’re embarrassingly elitist and opinionated, and apologised in advance for anything they say that may cause offence. I can’t change them, Weston, just as they can’t change me or my feelings for you, regardless of what they think. I love you as a man, because you’re dependable, honest, loving, kind, and protective, and because my heart won’t let me not love you. Your job doesn’t come into how I feel about you. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being a personal trainer. If my dad is looking for someone with strength of character, the fact that you were in the Army should be enough to reassure him that you’re a good man.’

  ‘And that’s what worries me,’ he sighed, running a hand up and over his face as he crawled up the gravel drive, flanked by the imposing old oak trees. ‘You know I don’t like to talk about that, not even with you. People find out and they want to know all about it, what it was like, and I … I just can’t, Georgie. I can’t.’

  ‘Weston, stop the car,’ I demanded. His breathing was coming hard and fast and there were beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He looked as if he was about to have a panic attack. ‘Stop the car right now,’ I repeated forcefully, my hand moving to hover over the handbrake in case he didn’t do as he was told.
I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he drew to a gentle stop.

  ‘Georgie,’ he whispered, both of his hands gripping the steering wheel. I unbuckled my seat belt and said a silent thank you that I was in my jeans as I scrambled awkwardly over the centre console and forced my way onto his lap, the steering wheel pressing hard into my back as I clasped his face.

  ‘No one’s going to make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about, Weston,’ I said softly.

  ‘I’m going to come across as a complete wimp if I have to say why I don’t want to talk about it.’ His eyes were beseeching me to let him turn the car around and head home. I hated that I’d not thought this through or been sensible enough to have imagined what a big deal this would be for him.

  ‘No one who’s seen action like you have can ever be described as a wimp, Weston. And you have the medals to prove it. I can’t imagine anyone coming out of serving their country without some mental battle scars, even if they don’t have physical ones, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m so proud of you, and you deal with it so well that I barely even remember you were diagnosed with PTSD. That’s my failing. Despite you being so strong, it should be in the back of my mind all of the time. I should have been more aware of potential stressors like this.’ I kissed his forehead as I let out a sigh, his arms banding tightly around me and his face immediately burying into my neck as he tried to calm his erratic breathing and heartbeat, which I could feel strongly pumping against my chest.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, making me screw up my face in annoyance that he obviously felt he’d somehow let me down.

  ‘Don’t be. I’m at fault here. How do you want me to handle it?’

  ‘I don’t. It’s up to me. I just, I should have thought about what I’d say sooner, but I’ve been putting it off.’

  ‘Why don’t you just say what you did to me in Mexico, or to my friends when they’ve asked? That what you did was highly classified and it’s not something you’re able to talk about, and you’d appreciate their understanding. No one can complain at that response.’

  ‘I guess. I just, I wish I could be honest for once in my life. I don’t like hiding a part of myself from you, Georgie, or your parents. I’m sick of keeping secrets. I hate that you’ve laid yourself bare to me, that you’ve given me all of you and I’ve not done the same.’ His voice cracked, that crack almost making its way through the walls of my heart as it ached at his private torture. I gently ran my fingers through his hair to soothe him as I spoke.

  ‘I’m not leaving you because you can’t share a deeply personal and painful period of your life with me, Weston. I’m not her. You’ve been honest from the start that you might never be able to talk to me about what you experienced and how it affected you, and I accepted that. Would I love for you to feel you can open up and let me try and help heal you? Of course I would. But there’s no expectations or judgement on my part. I love you as you are. Your pain isn’t a flaw to me, and I don’t want you to think of it as one either.’

  I kissed the top of his head, hating myself for lying to him. I made it sound like it was easy to accept that he’d never share that part of his life with me and it wasn’t. It was far from easy. It took a constant concerted effort not to try and tempt him to talk about it when I saw him drifting into one of his quiet and contemplative moods, to understand that it wasn’t personal that he felt unable to share his thoughts and feelings with me the way I wanted to share everything with him. But I’d made a promise that I wouldn’t become her, that I wouldn’t nag him or hold it against him when he didn’t offer what I wanted, and it was a promise I was determined not to break.

  ‘Are you feeling a bit better?’ I asked a few minutes later, once I noticed his breathing and heart rate had regulated.

  ‘Yes, thank you. And I’m–’

  ‘Don’t you dare apologise again, Weston,’ I quickly interrupted. ‘You never need to apologise for how you feel. Not with me. Understood?’

  ‘Understood,’ he breathed against my neck. His kiss was firm and warm against my neck and made me let out a soft moan of pleasure as my skin prickled with delight. ‘Christ, don’t start with those breathy moans when you’re in my lap. We’re late now and I don’t want to turn up with an erection after the embarrassment of the last meeting.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, my cheeks flaming as I tried to extricate myself, only to find we were firmly wedged.

  ‘Stop wriggling, Georgie, you’re asking for trouble,’ he groaned, flopping his head back against the headrest.

  ‘Well, move the seat back so I can get out of your lap fast.’

  ‘I can’t reach the lever under the chair, your legs are in the way.’

  ‘Suck everything in and I’ll try and lift myself up,’ I suggested, gripping the seat on either side of his shoulders to try to get some leverage so I could push myself up onto my knees. I flexed my hips from side to side in an effort to ease myself up, making the car shudder from the movement.

  ‘Suck everything in? What are you trying to say? I worked damn hard for this six-pack,’ he laughed.

  ‘And it’s much appreciated, but I need a few more inches please.’

  ‘Georgie. For God’s sake, stop with the sexual innuendos and wriggling.’

  ‘I can’t help it, I’m well and truly wedged,’ I moaned, gritting my teeth as the steering wheel dug mercilessly into my back. I was going to have bruises by the time I got out of here.

  ‘Ok, I’ll grip your bottom and try and lift you up while you push yourself up, ok?’ he suggested.

  ‘Do it, because I’m failing miserably here,’ I observed. ‘Oh, hello sailor,’ I giggled as I felt something else rising to the occasion.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ Weston muttered, flopping his head forward into my chest. ‘It’s got a mind of its own. And it was attached to an Army captain, not a Navy officer.’

  ‘I hope he’s still attached. Well, he’s standing to attention, whatever force he served in. Come on, push harder.’

  ‘I’m trying. It’s not exactly easy from this position.’

  ‘You can do it,’ I coaxed, as I pulled a face while trying to help. ‘Harder, Weston, harder!’

  ‘Any harder and it’s liable to detonate,’ he grunted, pulling his head back, his face contorted in a grimace as he struggled to lift as I pushed.

  ‘What’s liable to–’ I shrieked as I was thrust tightly forward, pinning Weston’s head against his head rest and suffocating him with my breasts as something enveloped me from behind with a loud hiss. I just managed to tilt my head to the left before my cheek was slammed against the edge of the headrest.

  ‘Air bag,’ mumbled Weston from somewhere between the mounds of my boobs. A loud rap on the window made me shriek again, and I opened my eyes to see a rather perturbed Dad standing at the side of the car, not quite sure what he was witnessing.

  ‘What exactly are you doing, Georgie?’

  ‘Stopping … breathing,’ came Weston’s disembodied voice as he struggled to remove his face from my chest, but the air bag had me pinned firmly against him.

  ‘Ermmm, definitely not what it looks like, Dad. Can you open the door and help me out? Weston’s finding it hard to breathe.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Dad responded dryly as he tried the handle. ‘It’s locked.’

  ‘Shit,’ I muttered, my heart starting to canter as panic settled in. ‘What? What did you say?’ I asked as Weston mumbled something.

  ‘Ben … nerf. Ack rocket.’

  ‘That makes no sense at all,’ I wailed. ‘Dad, do something, he’s suffocating.’

  ‘Ben nerf,’ Weston repeated as Dad looked around for something to help.

  ‘Ben nerf? What the hell is a ben nerf and how’s it going to help us?’

  ‘Penknife?’ Dad suggested.

  ‘Penknife! Great, penknife,’ I exclaimed. ‘Weston, nip me once if it’s a penknife you meant.’

  Weston’s confirmation bite of the soft flesh of my brea
st made me wince. ‘Great. Who has a penknife and what good will it do us?’

  ‘Ack rocket.’

  ‘I’ve no idea what an ack rocket is,’ I cried. Even if Weston didn’t suffocate to death, I was going to end up with a permanent imprint of his patterned cloth headrest on my cheek if we didn’t get out of here soon.

  ‘I think he’s trying to tell you that he has a penknife in his back pocket. Maybe you can deflate the air bag with it?’ Dad said, his face pressed up against the window, which considering he thought he’d just caught us in the throes of passion on his drive was pretty brave of him.

  ‘Owww,’ I exclaimed as Weston nipped me again really hard, confirming Dad’s translation.

  ‘Hurry up.’

  ‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ I moaned, getting friction burn on my knuckles as I squeezed my way down between the seat and Weston’s firm butt cheeks to try and get inside his back pockets. ‘Right now, I’m wishing you’d got smooth leather seats. Anyway, who carries a penknife around in their back pocket? Do you think you’re MacGyver or something?’

  ‘I’m going to find something to break the window, just in case you can’t get it,’ Dad called, with Weston desperately shaking his head and making my boobs wobble.

  ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got it, Dad,’ I yelled as I yanked it out and got myself in some bizarre yoga pose with one arm over the top of my head to try and extend the knife with both hands.

  ‘Good girl. Now reach up and back over your shoulder, a few good stabs should puncture the bag and deflate it enough for you to move back. Once you do, you can reach the door handle so I can help you out.’

  ‘Keep your hands on my bottom, Weston, I don’t want to stab you by mistake,’ I suggested as I did as I was told, hoping I wasn’t about to angle the knife into the back of my shoulder. I breathed a satisfied sigh of relief as I heard a loud pop and the gurgling sound of escaping air, not too dissimilar to the noises Abbie had made on fête day in the tent.

  ‘Jesus,’ Weston gasped, gulping down some welcome air as my chest released his face.