Father & Son: Book two of the Jensen Family Series

by Michelle Day

  Monica arrived with Tessa in tow as Paul was working on developing a warm glow. Tessa grabbed Suzanne and wrapped her in a hug before shooing Paul into the next chair along and pulling her friends left hand towards her.

  “Oh my God.” She gasped when she caught sight of the rock currently trying to blind her in the sunlight. “That must have cost a fortune.” She said, looking at Paul over her shoulder, she huffed when all he did was smile at her.

  “According to your baby brother this is just a trinket and there’s plenty more to come, that’s a quote from Mr Money Bags over there.” Suzanne informed her.

  Getting up from his chair, planning to move away before his sister pinned him to it and demanded to know the value of the ring, he simply said “That’s right.” Before joining the older folk at the other end of the table.

  Tessa gaped after him, eventually shutting her mouth and releasing her friend’s hand, she fixed Suzanne with a stern look. “My little brother is seriously loaded isn’t he?”

  “Apparently so.” Suzanne confirmed.

  As lunch was served and the discussion turned to the wedding, Suzanne watched Paul with a wary eye and almost laughed when she caught Monica doing the same thing. For his part, Paul was being amenable with the majority of the suggestions and had so far only vetoed the number of guests proposed. By the time desert was served, a happy compromise had been reached.

  Paul was swaying slightly as he undressed. He was exhausted, more from biting his tongue than anything else.

  Pulling on the top half of the pyjama set she’d bought just for tonight, Suzanne looked across the dubious looking sofa bed at him. “Are you alright with what’s been decided?” She asked.

  Nodding as he dropped his jeans, he straightened up and eyed the pyjama trousers before him. “I’ve told you, anything and everything to make sure you are happy, I will try to do.” He held up the paisley patterned monstrosities and caught her trying not to laugh. “What the hell are these?”

  “You may live to regret wanting to keep me happy.”

  Smiling, “I look forward to those regrets.” He shook the pyjama trousers at her, raising his eyebrows.

  “They are just for tonight lover. Can’t have you walking around with your danglies on display, you’ll give my parents a heart attack.” She laughed at her own phrase before stopping. “Leave your boxers on Paul. Just in case.”

  “Christ, you’ll have my…danglies as you put it, locked in a cage next. The boys need air baby.” He protested.

  “One night Paul. It’s not going to kill you.”

  Suzanne woke to the sounds of breakfast preparations. She was tucked into Paul’s side, her head on his chest, snuggled securely in his arms. She lifted her hear when her Dad popped his head around the door and whispered breakfast in ten minutes as Paul stirred.

  Kissing the warm skin of his chest, she moved slowly to his cheek then his lips, breathing against them “Get up.”

  “I’ve been up for about half an hour so far.” His husky morning voice brought goose bumps to her skin as his hand reached for hers, proving how “Up” he really was. Although his eyes were still closed, he was smiling.

  “Open your eyes.” Watching as he slowly opened his eyes. His smile faded as his eyes darted around the room.

  “Bollocks.” He muttered before turning towards her and wrapping her tightly in his arms. “Want to find out if this thing squeaks?”

  Pushing him away, “We already know it squeaks fidget arse and I’m not getting physical with you while my Dad is in the next room.”

  “You are no fun.” He stuck out his bottom lip but couldn’t maintain it as she mock glared at him. “Holy shit Suzie, we’re getting married.”

  Her heart melted. Not only was she finally getting her man but he was as excited about it as she was. Sliding from their makeshift bed, pulling on a pair of leggings, she stroked her hand through his hair. “Yes we are. Get up.”

  Contemplating rolling over and going back to sleep, Paul had just snuggled back down and closed his eyes when the living room curtains were thrown open, flooding the room with light. “Ergh.”

  “Good morning Paul.” His soon to be mother-in-law trilled. “Up you get.”

  Now with little choice, he climbed from the remarkably comfortable sofa bed to join Suzanne and her parents on the patio. A morning person he was not. Suzanne’s family however were chatting away with vigour as he took the mug offered to him and burnt his mouth with a large gulp.

  Spying Suzanne’s diary front and centre on the table, he opened it and flicked through several pages. Tapping his finger against a date, he looked at her and nodded. Signalling this one. We get married then. When she took it from him, he proceeded to pinch a cigarette from the packet sitting on the table, lighting it with her mother’s pink bejewelled lighter before moving off the patio for a little bit of head space.

  Suzanne tried to stifle a laugh at his lack of communication in the face of her parents. She knew he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and had clearly decided saying nothing was the way to go. She looked down at the date he had indicated while her parents made plans for their day. She was going to marry him on that day then she realised that day was only six weeks away. Bastard.

  Looking over to where he had stopped, right in front of her mother’s freshly transplanted prized rose bushes, her breath caught. The sunlight was hitting him from behind, making his usually black looking hair show its true rich chocolate brown colour. Sideways on to her now she could see he needed to shave and he needed a haircut but boy was he put together well. Jensen features with Paloma colouring did him all sorts of favours.

  She was smiling smugly to herself thinking that he was all hers, beautiful outside as well as in when her heart plummeted. She watched, almost in slow motion as he stretched out a hand and plucked one of the failing rose blooms. What the hell was he thinking? Her expression of abject horror caused her parents to look over at him, her mother rocketing to her feet and making it across the lawn to his side in seconds flat.

  Her concerns were short lived however, when her mother trotted off to the shed, returning with a trug and watched as Paul proceeded to dead head her, don’t you dare touch, rose bushes. She couldn’t hear what was being said but her mother was hanging on his every word as she shredded the blooms in the trug to make pot pourri. As they made their way back to the patio, she heard Paul say:

  “I think you’ve overwatered them, you should leave them for a few days. I’ll stop by and prune them for you some time.”

  “You could show me how to prune them perhaps?”

  Paul turned his best charming smile towards her, “It would be my pleasure.”

  Throwing him a look of “What the actual fuck just happened here?” when he sat next to her, she melted into his hand as he cupped her cheek and brought his lips to hers, she nearly choked when he whispered.

  “Paul one, ma in law zero.”

  Later that week, at his regular lunch meeting with his Mother but this time with Suzanne in tow, Paul interrupted the wedding planning conversation with:

  “I don’t want dad there.”

  A brief moment of silence followed while both women regarded him then exchanged poignant looks with each other.

  “He’s your father, he should be there.” Monica scowled at him.

  Paul shook his head, “He donated sperm, doesn’t make him a father. I don’t want him there.”

  Sensing an impending argument, Suzanne put her hand on Paul’s arm “You’ll be so busy with the other guests, you’ll barely notice him.”

  “No point in him being there at all then.” He answered shooting her a look, full on frown coupled with his “I dare you to continue” glare.

  “Ok, that look right there? That comes in my direction again and there won’t be a wedding.” Removing her hand, Suzanne kept eye contact with him.

  He held her gaze for a few seconds before looking away and glancing around the restaurant. He huffed out a sigh, dragged a h
and through his hair and mumbled “Sorry” before turning back to her.

  Throughout the exchange, Monica had held her breath. In her head she was silently applauding Suzanne. She’d got Paul to apologise, albeit begrudgingly. She had accomplished something with one sentence, which usually took weeks to achieve.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  His backside resting on a low railing, Novak took a few minutes to catch his breath as they paused in their usual daily run. What he was looking at had his full attention.

  A few feet away, Gavin was carefully peeling the skin from an orange, squinting in case the fruit decided to squirt him in the eye with juice as its predecessor had, as he dropped the peel into the bin.

  “Gav, we need to take dancing lessons.”

  Looking over at his friend as he broke the orange in half and moved to sit beside him, Gavin followed the line of sight long enough to see a line of lovely ballet dancers waiting outside one of the local dance schools.

  “I’m not wearing tights. Not even for you.” He said.

  Grinning, noticing that his friend hadn’t actually said no to dancing, just to tights, Novak grabbed half of Gavin’s orange and began to walk across the road. “I think a tutu would suit you but whatever.” He said over his shoulder, confident that Gavin would follow.

  Gavin got stuck waiting for cars to pass but he caught up with Novak as he started up the stairs to the entrance. Bastard nicked half my orange, going through his head.

  Shoving the door open, the sight that greeted them warmed Novak’s heart. The lobby was full of scantily clad dancers of varying genres. Smiling, he started to walk forward as the lobby descended into silence.

  “Fear not ladies, your new leading men have arrived.” Novak grinned through his words as he swept down the hallway.

  Gavin shook his head, not quite believing Novak’s brashness. He heard a few giggles and more than a few snorts of derision. Turning back to the crowded lobby, he glanced at a few people before drawing a breath, “Sorry about him, he’s an acquired taste but you’ll warm to him.”

  Seemingly ignoring his words, one of the dancers stepped forward, “Can I have a bit?” She asked pointing the remaining half of his orange. Once he nodded, the mob descended upon him and by the time Novak grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him along the hallway, the fruit was gone.

  “For once could you try not to be such a babe magnet?” Novak asked.

  “They ate my orange.” Gavin responded.

  Carmen had recently become concerned with her son’s interest in the opposite sex having caught him several times in the midst of stripping usually Cara, the girl next door but occasionally it would be another equally nubile teenager.

  She had expressed her concerns to Paul, she really should have known better. Her former lover had laughed and told her of all people, she knew very well what teenage boys were like and at least he had one up on his father by not, as Paul phrased it “Knocking some bird up and having a kid by sixteen.” Carmen had slammed the telephone down on him.

  Otherwise impressed with the way Gavin had stayed out of trouble along with his improved attitude, Carmen was happy to allow him to accompany Novak on a much hyped surfing trip down to Bournemouth. Novak guarded her son like a precious gem and she was confident nothing would happen to him.

  It would do both boys good to be away from the house for a few days. Since Helen’s two foster children had moved in, as sweet as they were, both older boys had begun to complain about a lack of privacy and their former garden play equipment had been reclaimed by the youngsters within weeks of Gavin and Novak turning it into an outdoor gym. That did not go over well.

  Paul’s solution had been to hire contractors to convert the loft into a den for the teenagers much to their delight and her horror as they had complete control over who gained access to their space.

  She heaved a sigh of relief as Novak’s car slowly withdrew from her sight. It had been a tense morning with the younger children using the older boys’ bags as a chance to play dress up, even Novak’s cool exterior had cracked and he had raised his voice far more than necessary.

  Clearing up the mess left by her son and his cohort she decided she would take a leisurely bath and ready herself for her date that evening, part of her get over Paul once and for all strategy. As she sunk beneath the bubbles, she silently thanked Helen’s boyfriend Art for picking up that stray dog that had firmly attached itself to her. Without him, she would never have met the charming vet.

  With their tent pitched, Gavin and Novak dragged on their wetsuits and headed into the waves. It had been a long time since either of them had surfed in the sea, they had been restricted to the artificial environment of the water park where Novak now worked teaching people all manner of water sports and thoroughly enjoying after hours relations with one of his clients in the middle of the vast lake over the highly revved outboard motor.

  They made quite a sight in their streamlined black wetsuits, both being tall, athletically built and new to the area, they found their beach towels surrounded when they came back to shore and although the weather had turned chilly, neither complained about the group of young women willing to keep them company.

  While his son was surfing, Paul fastened the deep red cravat in place and slipped on his waistcoat. Gavin had been given the option of attending the wedding but had politely refused. Paul’s daughter Marissa on the other hand had been delighted to be invited to be a bridesmaid.

  Suzanne had picked his wedding garb and he had to smile at her traditional choice. Matt settled his dove grey tail coat over his shoulders and smoothed it down, looking at his brother in the reflection of the mirror.

  Both dressed in dove grey trousers with a black pinstripe, dove grey waistcoats and tail coats, gleaming black shoes, they were quite a sight to behold.

  “We scrub up well.” Matt smiled, “Ready?”

  Nodding as he removed his jacket, Paul followed his brother to the car. He laughed when he saw his mother’s BMW sitting outside and questioned Matt. “What’s up with the Escort?”

  “Nothing. She’s been running perfectly. I just didn’t want to take the chance that she’d pick today to break down. Erring on the side of caution.” Taking Paul’s coat from him, he laid it carefully across the back seat. “Are you sure Suzanne’s transport is arranged?”

  “Yes, it’s all sorted. She’s going to pass out when she sees what I’ve done.” Paul smiled, wishing he could be there to see the look on his soon to be wife’s face when she saw the horse drawn carriage he’d arranged.

  The church began to fill as he stood at the altar. There were no nerves this time. He was standing there waiting for the woman he was destined to be with.

  “Paul. I’ve got this déjà vu thing going on over the two rings in my pocket. I can ahem, “loose” one if you want.”

  “I’m happy to wear a ring this time. I want the world to know I’m hers.” He returned his brothers happy smile. “Let’s see mine.”

  “No. I am under strict instructions not to show you. She wants it to be a surprise. She had it made specifically for you and she’s got it spot on if you ask me. Besides, she scares me just a little so there’s no way I’m showing you.”

  “Matt.” Paul warned. “Show me.”

  Matt didn’t get a chance to reply as the first strains of the bridal march started and people came to their feet.

  Stepping forward, Paul looked down the aisle to see his little girl Marissa, beaming widely as she scattered petals on the floor. There was a collective sigh of “Awww” as the little girl passed the rows. Her dark hair had been curled into ringlets that bounced at her shoulders. Her dress was the same deep red as his cravat with volumnous petticoats beneath. She seemed to forget what she was supposed to do when she reached the end of the aisle and came to an abrupt stop.

  Paul swooped her into his arms, kissing her cheek and telling her how pretty she looked. Kicking her legs out, Marissa stage whispered “Look at my pretty shoes Daddy
” while pointing to her red patent footwear, causing a peal of laughter from the guests.

  Next down the aisle was Faye and his sister Tessa. Faye winked at him and Tessa took Marissa from his arms, telling her Daddy needed to stand and wait for Suzanne. One of Suzanne’s sisters preceded her down the aisle and then, there she was. Everyone else ceased to exist for Paul. He locked onto her face as she smiled at him and held his gaze for the short walk.

  She had her hair styled in soft waves and drawn back from her face. Her white, halter neck gown accentuated her bustline before swooping downwards and taking on a pink hew at knee level before darkening into the same deep red as the bridesmaids dresses as it reached the hem.

  He didn’t really take in anything other than her hair, he was just captivated by her smile. He stood patiently as she handed off her bouquet and kissed her father before turning to him. He stroked a hand down her bare arm, whispering “Wow Suzie” before lowering his head to kiss her.

  “That bit happens at the end.” The female Deacon joked, making Paul step back smiling and the guests laugh. “Ready?” She asked looking to each of them in turn.

  Holding out her left hand to receive her wedding ring, Suzanne watched Paul’s face as he slid the diamond encrusted band, custom made to fit around her engagement ring, over the tip of her finger and repeated the vows the Deacon spoke. There was an almost overwhelming look of solemnity on his face but then she caught the sparkle in his eyes as he looked up from the ring and into her eyes. The unmistakable look of triumph of a man who had just got everything he’d ever wanted.

  The Deacon’s eyebrows raised as she prepared to hand Suzanne Paul’s wedding ring when she caught sight of the engraving on the thick band. Trying desperately to stifle a smile as she placed the ring in Suzanne’s hand and asking her to repeat the vows as the ring was settled into place.

  With the vows and rings exchanged, the Deacon tapped Paul’s shoulder and said the words he had been waiting for. “Paul, you may now kiss your bride.”