“Not really, my mother was my only client today.”
“Well, can I make some calls and get someone with a van over so we can get the last of your stuff moved to my place?” he asks.
“It doesn’t need a van, Con. I only have some clothes and a few personal bits.”
“You don’t have any furniture or anything at Sophie’s?”
“No, I left with nothing. I went back and grabbed a few clothes and bits, but other than that, nothing.”
We start walking back to the salon, hand in hand. It feels so nice being out in public with Conner, just walking through a park, holding hands. A nice, normal, everyday act and yet one that probably neither of us have done for years, but for entirely different reasons.
He kisses the back of my hand.
“Good, I’m glad you’re starting fresh with me. I’m glad there’s nothing from your marriage that you want. I don’t want any reminders of him in our home.”
I smile at my rock star’s jealousy and the fact that he just called his house, our home. I’m cool with that. Our home works for me.
We head straight up to Sophie’s flat and I pack my last few bits and pieces that I have here into plastic carrier bags. Very classy I know, but that’s all I have to hand.
Conner calls Matt and asks if he can come and collect us. We take all of the bags downstairs and Conner waits with them while I go into the salon and tell Sophie that I’ve taken the last of my stuff.
She’s standing with Maria and Donna, watching a rep from a permanent hair straightening supplier work their magic on a volunteer model. I watched a demo at a hair and fashion show, so I don’t need to see it.
I haven’t told any of our staff about Conner yet, so I try to speak quietly to Soph.
“I’ve taken the last of my stuff. I’ll give you a call a bit later. Thanks so much for everything.”
She gives me a smile. “You’re more than welcome, baby chick. How’d it go with the fucker?’
“It was fucked.” I shrug. “I have so much to tell you. I could really do with a wine and a chat. I’ll give you a call a bit later.”
She nods. “Coolios.”
Before I get a chance to move, Maria says from beside her, “Oh my God, my ovaries just exploded.”
“Holy shitballs,” Donna responds from the other side of the rep and her volunteer.
“Jesus wept, that’s hot,” the rep adds. I follow their gaze. Conner is leaning against the archway that leads into our treatment room. He’s lifted his jumper and his fingertips are stroking his bare belly. He winks at me, knowing full well the reaction he’s getting from my girls.
“Matty’s here Meebs. You ready?” He nods his head at the hormonal puddle of women surrounding the sink.
“Ladies.”
“Hey.”
“Wow.”
Oh, my fucking God.”
“Fuck. Me.”
Are the collective responses. I roll my eyes, first at them, then at him.
“If we don’t catch up tonight, I’ll see you next week,” I tell Sophie, not missing the look she shoots Conner.
“What?” I ask. Looking between them.
“Erm,” is all Sophie says.
“You’re not here next week, Meebs. I’ve sorted it with Sophie, you’ve got a couple of weeks off.”
“What?” I ask having no idea what’s going on.
“We’re going away. It was gonna be a surprise, but you might as well know, I’m taking you away. I’ve sorted it all with Soph, your clients are all organised and rescheduled.”
There're a few loud sighs and ‘awws’ from Conner’s fan club.
“Fine,” is the only thing I can think of saying. I say goodbye to everyone and head out to the waiting Land Cruiser with Conner.
I don’t end up meeting up with Sophie Friday night. The combination of the wine I drank earlier in the day and my run in with Marcus has left me feeling a little bit shaken and a whole lot stupid.
I’ve always considered myself a fairly intelligent person. I did well at school and was expected to get great exam results and go on to university. Dropping out when I had my little meltdown over what happened with Conner and the baby, probably wasn’t one of my wisest decisions but look how that turned out. I’m now the joint owner of a chain of hair and beauty salons and they’re all doing very well, thank you very much.
So, I can’t help but wonder, how did I not see what my brother and Marcus were doing? I feel like an idiot.
I have a long swim when we get home, which calms me considerably, on the outside at least. On the inside, I still feel queasy and unsettled. We end up walking with the dogs around the grounds and then I lay sprawled out on top of Conner and force him to watch ‘When a Man Loves a Woman,’ with me. It’s one of my all-time favourite films, Andy Garcia being one of my first ever crushes.
“Would you still love me if I became an alcoholic?” I ask him, still watching the film.
He runs his fingers up and down my spine and I can feel that he’s already more than at half-mast, as his dick is pressing into my belly button.