chapter 7
I slept practically the whole journey back, waking only to transfer from car to plane, to car, to house; consequently as soon as we step into the house at eight thirty in the evening, I’m wide awake.
I’ve got a nagging thought roaming about in my head to call Caz and update her on the whole Jake fiasco, but I think I can stand to leave it another day, she won’t be too mad that she wasn’t told right away; who am I kidding? She will be furious, but if she is going to be angry anyway, I may as well give her a reason to be and leave it till tomorrow.
Carlos grabs us both a beer from the fridge, about the only thing that is guaranteed to be stocked at all times and crashes out on the sofa.
“How do you fancy another cozy night in?” he asks cuddling in next to me. After yesterdays failed attempt I am more than happy to stay in tonight.
“Sounds perfect”
“Oh, by the way, my parents want to have dinner with us tomorrow” he drops in casually.
I stare at him open mouthed, “I can’t face them, not after this morning!” I protest.
“Its fine, they’ve seen a lot worse I’m sure”
“Oh well, that’s OK then” I retort sarcastically.
“Seriously, it will be alright, they won’t mention it, just pretend it never happened. They are being pretty insistent on meeting you properly and to be honest I actually want them to meet you, so if you won’t do it for them, do it for me” he says giving me his best pleading look.
“Arrg” I dispel my frustration, “Fine, but if you didn’t look so cute right now, I wouldn’t be agreeing”
“Thanks” he says compensating me with a kiss.
Tomorrow is going to be a nightmare; I decide I will have to call Caz in the morning, if only to get her advice about meeting the parents, at least my humiliation will distract her from heading out to kill Jake.
After about an hour I get bored of trashy TV and formulate a naughty plan in my head. I stand and walk across the room, “Where you going?” Carlos asks.
“Never you mind, nosey” I say, disappearing upstairs.
Once in our room I close the door behind me and route out my bag from the boutique, from its hiding place in my suitcase and empty the contents onto the bed.
It takes a good fifteen minutes to stuff myself into it and another ten to throw on some makeup and ruffle my hair into a hopefully, sexy bedroom style.
Now I’m ready I don’t quite know what to do with myself; do I go downstairs, where he is almost definitely going to spot me from the top of the stairs and then have the embarrassing feat of wobbling down them in these heels while he watches? No, I don’t think so. I could call him from the top of the stairs and get him to come up to me, but I don’t know how flattering this will look from that angle.
My only option is to position myself on the bed and call him from there. I lay down on my back, instantly getting the sharp heel of my shoe caught in the bedcovers; untangling it I try laying out flat, one leg bent up at the knee and an arm draped over the pillow above my head, but my boobs are practically strangling me. Rolling onto my front I push up on all fours, arching my back and pushing my bum into the air, ‘no’ I think giggling to myself. Finally I roll onto my side, bend my arm at the elbow and prop my head up on my hand and rest the other on my hip. This is the best I’m going to get, “Carlos” I shout out, waiting a minute I hear no reply; is there a way to yell sexily? “CARLOS” I try a bit louder.
“Yeah” the faint reply comes.
“Come here a minute”
“What?”
“COME’UP HERE” well this is getting off to a marvellous start.
I can hear the TV switch off and his footsteps as he climbs the stairs. I give my hair another quick scrunch and put on my best ‘come to bed face’.
As he opens the door his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of me.
“Surprise” I purr.
“Wow”
“You like?” I ask, though I’m already sure of the answer.
“Yeah I like” he drools as he approaches me. He crawls up the bed until he’s positioned over me and runs his hands up the corset. “Is this what you bought from that boutique?”
“Yep”
“Stand up and give us a twirl then” he says, jumping off the bed and extending his hand to me. I oblige, attempting to get up off the bed as gracefully as possible. Once I’m standing in front of him he lifts my hand so I can turn in a circle, giving my bum a smack in passing.
“Hey! I wasn’t bent over that time” referencing his rule from our second date.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself, I mean look at it” he says, taking both cheeks in his hands and squeezing hard.
Stepping back I wriggle out of his grasp, “Err, who gave you permission to grab that?” I ask coyly, sticking my ass out and slapping it hard. “ooh” I omit appreciatively, then bite my bottom lip and put on my best sexy expression.
“Oh sweetness, that’s so hot!” he reaches up to touch me again and I quickly smack his hand.
“Oi, that’s not for you” I tease, grasping his shoulders and pushing him onto the bed with force. I slide one knee between his legs and slowly crawl onto the bed, running my hand up his body as I go.
His hands find my thighs, but just as they are about to reach my ass I take them in mine and pin them above his head. Lowering my body onto his and kissing him, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, his fingers lock into mine as his hips gyrate beneath me, pressing his hard cock against me.
I don’t want to mess around with foreplay this time, I’m ready for him now; taking control is such a turn on. I release one of his hands, it instantly flies to my breasts, pulling down the front of the corset roughly and freeing them. In turn my hand is at his crotch fumbling with the button of his trousers before whipping them open and grasping his firm erection.
“I want you” I pant.
“Are you ready?” he asks surprised. In answer I take his fingers from my nipple and push them inside me, letting him feel how wet I am for him.
“You are ready” he grins.
He pulls my panties down, but finds them stuck at the garter clips; he spends a few seconds clumsily trying to unhook them from my stockings before resorting to ripping them off in frustration. Whacking both hands down hard onto my ass making me scream out, “I love it when you do that” I purr. Picking me up by my hips he throws me to one side, standing over me he tugs my panties off down my legs. Matching his vigour I sit up and yank his trousers down, his cock springing out to attention. As I’m there I give it a courtesy lick, not taking the time to tease him now, but instead taking it as deep into my mouth as I can and sucking hard. When I pull away he brings me to me feet, pausing to kiss me before turning me around so his cock rests against my ass.
He bends his knees pushing mine onto the bed, so I’m kneeling on the very edge, then moves his hand to my leg, encouraging them further apart. He comes in close behind me, stroking my hair back away from my neck and biting my shoulder softly. One of his hands reaches around to finger my wet p-ssy, while he uses the other to push himself inside of me. I don’t think I could ever tire of this feeling; the first time he penetrates me always takes my breath away, the way he fills me completely, fitting inside me perfectly, like we were made for each other.
We start to move against each other, back and forth, but I want more, I want it deeper and harder; I bend forward till I’m placing my hands on the mattress, instant gratification comes as he holds my waist and drives into me with force, I can feel my orgasm building already as he runs his fingers over my ass, “Spank me” I plead.
He doesn’t need to be asked twice, landing his hand squarely on my right butt cheek, the short burst of pain spiking my pleasure, “again” I shout, my pleasure taking over my actions as I push back with fierce intensity. He spanks me again, I’m so close I can barely stand it, “Harder” I command and as he obeys with one sharp smack, I cum; my toes curl, my muscles clench and my legs shake “Oh Carlos” he pulls me up straight against him, his hands tracing up the lace of the corset until they find my breasts, while he circles his hips, waiting for my orgasm to subside.
As soon as my muscles relax he starts building momentum again; I ease back down to my previous successful position, but he places his hand on the back of my shoulder and pushes me down further until my face is flush against the bed, with my back arched and my ass sticking up in the air. If it wasn’t so good I’d be self-conscious right now, but quite frankly I would be willing to do a lot worse if it made me feel even half this good.
He’s pounding into me hard and I’m meeting him stroke for stroke, my fingers clenching the sheet as we descend into animalistic desire, each moving instinctively with the other, Carlos grabbing at my body as we rise to the crescendo. We cry out together, Carlos leaning over me, holding me tightly as we cum together.
Collapsing onto the bed we kiss, staring into each other’s eyes as he caresses my face, “Well Ms. Mavers, aren’t you just full of surprises?”
“I’ve got to do something to keep my toy boy on his toes” I reply, only half joking.
“You’re doing a great job” he says, pulling me into an embrace and kissing me softly.
I wake with a start, my dreams are full of dread recently. I guess there is so much going on in my life, so many loose ends to tie, it’s only natural to be plagued by bad dreams; but all the same, I long for the nights where I only dream of puppy dogs and rainbows and naked Carlos……
Speaking of which, his side of the bed is empty, rubbing my eyes and sitting up I notice the sound of the shower next door, it’s early, only 6am according to the bedside clock, he must have to work.
I suppose I have had him to myself for three days now, but as one of those days was mostly spent in hospital; don’t I deserve just one more?
When Carlos emerges from the bathroom, I’m daydreaming about what we might get up to, given one more day. I glance at him still half in the fantasy only to find him, dripping wet, in nothing but a small towel.
Oh you read my mind Mr. Johnson. “Mmmmm hey you”
“Hey sweetness, sorry did I wake you?” he whispers.
“No, but now I’m up…..” leaning forward on my knees I hook my finger over the top of the towel at his hip, pulling back sharply and whipping the towel off; he doesn’t even flinch, just stands there, proud in all his glory, his skin glistening with moisture like the first time I clapped eyes on him.
Only this time Ican touch him, from the edge of the bed I kneel up, running my hands from his strong thighs, up along his defined hip lines and finally up to his chest; his skin is silky smooth, the droplets soaking through my t-shirt as I press my body against him.
A low guttural sound erupts from his throat, “You are a minx Ms. Mavers” he murmurs at me, making me shiver with excitement.
“But I can’t, I’m already late. I actuallyhave to get some work done today”
I pout, wrapping my arms round his neck, holding him to me and move my body to rub against his growing erection.
“You are being a naughty girl this morning” he growls seductively, bringing his hand down hard on my bum, the slap making me scream out with delight; but he pulls out of my embrace and pulls his pants on, shaking his head at me, with a twinkle in his eye. “Later Ms. Mavers, I promise I will rock your world, once I’ve got some work done”
I collapse back on the bed, in a tantrum, chucking a pillow at him as I do.
“Oh you did not just throw a pillow at me” he warns, the grin spreading across his face; in an instant he is straddling me, tickling me mercilessly till I’m screeching with laughter, begging him to stop. When he finally subsides, I’m panting and flushed, but smiling, “That’s better. You are so beautiful when you smile” leaning down and locking lips with me.
All too soon he is up again, grabbing a T-shirt from the wardrobe and heading out the door “I’ll hopefully be done by early afternoon, I’ll call if I run late, try and stay out of trouble huh!?” he jokes, blowing me a kiss and closing the door behind him.
I lie there for a while and mentally plan what I need to do today; I have to call Caz and should send an email to my parents and then maybe I’ll give Blair a call and see what she’s up to today.
First things first, I have a quick shower and throw on beige shorts with a white camisole, then grab some breakfast, I really could have called Caz first, but I’m delaying the inevitable. It’s quarter to eight when I finally pick up the phone, she sounds so happy to hear from me that I almost chicken out, but part of me wants to know if she knows where Jake is now, not to mention what I should do about tonight so I jump right in.
So much has happened since I last spoke to her, just five days ago, I barely know where to start, but once I do it pours out in a rambling waterfall.
She stays silent throughout and for a good minute after I finish, trying to take it all in.
Finally she speaks “Jesus Kate”
“Tell me about it”
“I mean….Jesus”
I can’t believe it, I’ve actually managed to gob-smack Caz, this is a rare feat.
“No pressure, but I’m relying on you to fix this mess I’m in” I state.
She’s quickly back on form, “Right, first are you sure you’re OK? Nothings broken?”
“I’m sure, couple of stitches, nothing serious; Carlos has been taking excellent care of me”
“Awwww” she croons, “Don’t distract me from the mayhem with your romance!” she tells me off, practical as ever.
“I’m sorry I should have told you about all this before now, it’s just been a hectic few days”
“I can imagine! I’ve got a plan, first I’m going to track down Jake, there are only so many places he could be hiding and find out what the hell he was thinking. Actually I’ll speak to his parents, they’ll probably disown him, he deserves it the little maggot!” she fumes.
“I really think he’s gone off the rails, mentally, I can’t explain it, but he had a proper crazy look about him”
“He must have to do that and think he’ll get away with it. Don’t worry about it Kate, he’ll get what’s coming to him!”
There is clearly not going to be anything I can say to calm her down, or change her mind on this.
“Alright, now tell me what I’m supposed to do about tonight!?” I beg, changing the subject instead.
“Tonight will be awkward!” she laughs.
“Not helpful!”
“Sorry, but it will, there’s no escaping that, all you can do is wear something stunning, be your usual charming self and whatever you do, don’t bring it up in conversation.”
Well that is not useful, but I guess there is nothing much else she can say which could magically fix this one for me. She lets me gush about Carlos a little more; accepting that I’m in too deep already not to be upset when I get back and has given up lecturing me about it accordingly.
She is however as optimistic as she gets about how it’s all going so far and the fact that he has moved me in with him has earned him some real brownie points.
She gives me a brief update on the house, it’s all going swimmingly and at this rate, I should be in the new place within three weeks of getting back, which is scary, but so exciting!
Lastly before we say our goodbyes, I get her to promise not to mention any of the bad stuff to my parents, for their own good; they will only worry about me if they know. She is reluctant, stating that she is the one who still gets daily calls from them, badgering her for information constantly; I persuade her with the fact that those calls will double if they think I’m in any way in danger.
She makes me swear on Carlos’s life that I will call with regular updates, whether anything else happens or not, which I do, but keep my fingers crossed, just in case and hastily hang up before she somehow realises.
I send off a brief, cheery email to my parents, avoiding all taboo subjects and sticking with the standard holiday template, weathers lovely, wish you were here etc.
Picking up the phone again I ring through to Blair’s room and get John; he explains Blair is by the pool sunning herself, while he plans on going to the gym for a bit, so she would be thrilled if I went and joined her. I thank John and head out to do just that.
I find Blair on a lounger in the most sought after spot, of course, catching every available ray from sunrise to midday. She screeches loudly when she sees me, waving like a lunatic and pulling me into a hug.
“Oh my God, how have you been, you look so much better!” apparently she hasn’t noticed the huge cut across my forehead, only half hidden by my fringe. “How’s Carlos? I thought I’d leave you two love birds to it for a few days.” She says, giving me a sly look.
In so many ways she reminds me of an overexcited version of Caz; it must be why I like her so much, she is my Caz away from home.
I briefly fill her in on the events since I last saw her, there’s no way she’s not going to notice the line of stitches for much longer. She listens with the usual enthusiasm, plenty of ‘OH MY GODS’ and throwing her hands to her face looking shocked, followed by a satisfying amount of coo’s and ah’s at Carlos’s part in the drama; that’s the only way she improves on Caz, her die-hard commitment to romance, although if it weren’t for Carlos being in my life, it would be the one thing I hated about her.
We spend the morning gossiping and sunning ourselves, sipping on strawberry Daiquiris; time flies and before I know it, the sun is the wrong side of us and I’m a little tipsier than I really should be.
I make my excuses and head back to Carlos’s place, promising that we will have another day together this week.
As it turns out I left in vain, Carlos does not materialise until around four, and contrary to what he said this morning he did not call to say otherwise.
“Hey sweetness, sorry it was really busy” he says, offering me a kiss. Damn it, I can’t stay mad at someone so sexy.
“That’s Ok, now that you’re here, can you help me decide what to wear tonight?”
“It doesn’t matter what you wear, you always look gorgeous” he says, melting my heart.
I make him pick between three outfits anyway, settling on the green, ‘good for all occasions’, dress that I wore on our first date. There is just enough time for me to take another quick shower to wash the sand out of my hair, before I get ready. My stomach is doing continual flips, I’m so nervous. Meeting the parents is frightening at the best of times, let alone when they’ve seen you practically naked!
I have to re-apply my mascara twice after my shaking hands clump it badly and smudge it onto my eye lids. Styling my fringe as best I can to cover the stitches then gingerly applying cover-up around what’s left, so it’s not quite so glaringly obvious.
Carlos is nothing but amused by my hour long struggle, to achieve a casual, minimalistic look; his effort goes as far as changing into black trousers and a shirt.
“I love that dress on you, it reminds me of what we got up to last time you wore it” he says, coming up behind me and nuzzling my neck suggestively.
“Oh no you don’t” I exclaim, swatting his hand away from my breast “it’s taken forever to get ready, so I’m not letting you get me all ruffled up at the last minute”
“Aaww, but…” he starts to whine.
“No!” I cut him off, “you will just have to wait till later, like you made me do this morning”
He exhales exaggeratedly, “fine. Come on then, we might as well go now” he’s calling my bluff, knowing I’d rather do just about anything than relent to face his parents, but I’m not backing down on this one and undoing all my hard work, “Ok” I reply cheerily.
We are having dinner at his parent’s house, a ten minute walk from Carlos’s, again hidden behind a wall of trees; but this is no house, it’s a carbon copy of the main lobby. Glass fronted, with magnificent, white marble pillars. It’s easily three times the size of Carlos’s place and in much better condition, there is nothing sweet and rural about it; it can only be described as grand and imposing.
I wasn’t expecting this, I don’t know where I thought they lived, but I had no idea it would be a mansion, it does nothing to lessen my nausea.
Carlos leads me up the stone steps to the front door, which is opened for us before we reach the top.
“Diego” Carlos bows his head towards him in greeting.
“Mr. Carlos” he returns, bowing slightly from the waist. The foyer is majestic, high ceilings which make every step on the grey marble floor echo; from the centre, a sweeping staircase with thick, dark wood banisters which curve up alongside them, dominating the space.
Carlos leads me round to the right, through a heavy oak door; the room on the other side of it is light and airy. A long wooden table which could easily seat sixteen people decorates the centre of the room, and beautiful portraits of the family adorn every wall. They all look professionally shot and range from the parents with their young children, to what looks like as recent as a year or so ago.
I immediately recognise his sister, she was apparently just as stunning as a child as she is now; her hair raven black and impossibly glossy, the same piercing green eyes as Carlos, her perfect smile, her beauty frozen in time.
“That’s Julia, my sister” Carlos explains as he catches my studying her.
Alongside them, in one of the pictures of the whole family unit, there is another boy; Taller, but an almost exact replica of Carlos.
“Who’s this?” I ask pointing to the photo, being careful not to leave a smudge on the glass with my finger.
“That’s my brother, Marcus”
“Carlos and Marcus?” I asked amused.
“Yes my parents have limited imaginations.” He laughs back.
“How come you haven’t mentioned him before?”
“He lives in America, I don’t see much of him, guess it just never came up in conversation?” he is dismissive about it so I let it go, following him through the open French doors onto the veranda.
His parents are sat at the outdoor, glass table facing us.
“Kaitlin! Don’t you scrub up well, I barely recognised you with clothes on!” his dad chirps the second I step out, his mum swiftly elbows him in the ribs.
“Dad!” Carlos warns.
“Oh come on, she knows I’m only joking, don’t you Kaitlin?” by now my face is burning and my mouth dry, what can I say to that? I force a smile and nod staring at my feet because I can’t bare to make eye contact with them.
“Oh Tom, leave the poor girl alone.” Carlos’s mum glares at him, before turning to me, “Kaitlin, my name is Clara, it’s lovely to meet you, would you like a drink?”
“Yes, please” the yes comes out a little too strongly, but who can blame me. With a click of her fingers a girl appears with a tray already equipped with two glasses of Rosé for me and Carlos, oh how the other half live.
Carlos sits down opposite his Dad, distracting him with business talk, what functions are planned and possible ideas for new classes they could provide; while Carla sits in front of me, spinning the usual polite conversation, where am I from, what do I do, how did me and Carlos meet.
I explain to her that I work for an advertising company in Devon, the money is average, but there is opportunity for good commission, it’s all innocent enough, but I can’t shake the feeling that every word I say is being judged; it’s like an interview, I’m half expecting her to ask what my intentions with Carlos are, and where I see the two of us in five years.
When I explain meeting Carlos I gush about what a gentleman he was returning my sandals and how wonderful it was for him to have made the effort to do it; it’s a sure fire way to win round a mother, by complimenting the chivalry of their son. It works a dream and by the time we are onto our main course we are thick as thieves, swapping old recipe secrets and planning future shopping trips together.
Carlos is visibly un-nerved, periodically shooting us both questioning looks, to which neither of us respond, too busy chattering away with each other.
Over desert, Carla speaks to Carlos “Oh I forgot to mention, Marcus is coming down for a week on Thursday, I thought it would be nice if he stayed with you”
For a moment Carlos’s face falls and his eyes darken at her words, but he quickly regains his smile, “Of course” he says sweetly, although I can’t help feeling his acceptance tinged with distaste.
We leave shortly after, Carlos refused coffee for the both of us and made excuses for our departure; Clara and Tom both agreeing how lovely it was to meet me and insisting we do dinner again soon. Surprisingly I’m not in the slightest way repelled by the idea, having bonded so quickly with Clara.
On the walk back Carlos is silent and brooding, “What’s up sour puss?” I try and coax out the reason for his sudden grim mood.
“Nothing” he sulks.
“There’s clearly something wrong”
“No I’m fine, just tired, it’s been a long day” he says, plastering on his best fake smile. I’m plagued by the image of the nagging wife I so desperately wanted to avoid becoming with Jake, so I drop it before it can turn into an argument.
His mood doesn’t change for the rest of the evening; he’s quiet and withdrawn, giving only one word answers, making conversation impossible.
Eventually I give in, taking myself off to bed early, really just trying to provoke a reaction from him.
I spend what feels like hours, going over every part of the evening with a fine toothed comb, trying to work out why he’s acting so offish. I over think every last comment, searching for hidden meaning; I thought the night had gone well, but could I have unwittingly offended them in some way? I conclude that it can’t be me, but then why would he still be so angry when we’re alone now?
Eventually I fall into a restless sleep, waking once at 3am to notice Carlos’s side of the bed still vacant. By the time I surface the next morning the house is empty. There is a note on the breakfast bar, but it lacks any kind of care and warm fuzzy words that adorned his previous ones –‘I had to go to work, I’ll be back later, Carlos x’only one kiss and nothing sweet, this one will not be saved with the others.
So this is it, the beginning of the end; all the signs are there, he’s avoiding me, practically giving me the silent treatment when we are together. How could something so wonderful fall apart so easily? And why? I haven’t done anything wrong, that I know of, he didn’t seem too happy about his brother coming to stay, but that’s nothing to do with me. Maybe it was just meeting his parents, Mari had mentioned that they had never met any of his other women, that he never even spent more than one night with any of them. So it must have just got too real last night and now he wants to back out; it has moved very fast, I mean I know it’s not a permanent arrangement, but I am effectively living with him. I’ve only known him nine days after all, that’s moving fast by anyone’s standard.
God I should have just stuck to the three time rule, that way we could have both had our fun and then carried on as if it never happened; instead now here I am, five times later and destined for a heart wrenching break up and then another week and a half here, spent dreading bumping into him. That’s no way to spend a luxury holiday, I might as well just go home, maybe if I speak to Carla she will understand and let me have a refund for the last week?
I’m dwelling on morbid thoughts, I need to get out of my head, I call Blair and arrange to see her, today she is going to a towel origami class, while John goes on a fishing expedition. I smile, of all the classes she could do, she is spending the morning making animals from towels, brilliant. I agree to join her, it should be a laugh at least.
We meet at 10am in the same hall I did the Salsa lesson in, great start to my ‘not thinking about Carlos’ day.
We are split into pairs, I’m relieved when Blair clings to my arm, assuring that we are paired together and set up on tables that form a semicircle around where the instructor stands. Each table is laden with two stacks of towels in assorted sizes, stickers of eyes and mouths and a bunch of flowers tied together with an elastic band.
As we are being taken through the steps to create an elephant, I confide in Blair about my predicament with Carlos. She ponders on it for a while and then speaks gently, “Do you think that maybe, you might be overreacting, just a little? I mean, he could be moody about anything really, it doesn’t really sound like you have any basis to think it’s you?”
“I guess, it’s just the way he’s being with me, don’t you think it’s a bit weird?”
“Well yes, but when John has a bad day at work he can get like that with me, all insular and sullen for a few days, but then he soon gets over it. I tend to just leave him to it and when he feels better he can come find me, with flowers” she laughs and I join her, she makes it sound so inconsequential.
“I guess you’re right” I say, genuinely happier about it.
“You need to talk to him, just ask like you don’t care either way, say ‘if I’m getting in the way here I can go back to my room, it’s no problem’” she mimics my English accent badly.
“Ha-ha, OK, I’m not sure I can do an accent like that, but I’ll try”.
We are instructed to give the elephant making a go ourselves, but I’ve been so distracted by our conversation that I barely heard a word of the demonstration; Blair on the other hand has already started tightly rolling a medium sized towel, I feel like I’m at school, unprepared for an exam, so I’m copying the smart girl next to me.
After much fumbling and a few swear words muttered under my breath I produce a sorry looking elephant with disproportionate ears, a wonky trunk and eyes placed too close together. Blair’s is, of course, picture perfect, arguably better than the instructors even, earning her plenty of praise when she comes round to inspect our efforts. I am given a pitiful look and an unconvincing consolation, “Yes you do OK, very good first time” she says, patting my shoulder and moving on quickly.
Blair and I turn to survey our handiwork, seeing mine and hers side by side, hers standing tall triumphantly, next to mine leaning because two legs are shorter than the others and seemingly squinting back at us, we can’t help but laugh.
The rest of the class is much the same, although I do manage to create one passable turtle by the end, which I’m so proud of I’m allowed to take it away with me, much to Blair’s amusement.
We go to the bar to wait for John, who should be back in an hour and get stuck into a jug of cocktails in the meantime, gossiping about all things girly, in the way only Blair does so well.
When John finally arrives an hour and a half later, we are quite tipsy and have just ordered a huge amount of food, having suddenly become starving hungry at the bottom of the second jug. We eat together and polish off another jug of cocktails, leaving Blair and myself positively drunk.
John does a sterling job of herding us to some shaded loungers to sleep it off, while he sits nearby and reads yesterday’s paper from his home town.
It’s 5pm before I stir, looking over, Blair is still asleep on the lounger next to me and John has moved to reading a novel. I stretch out, yawning, the move making it apparent that I’m still a little worse for wear. I apologise to John for being a bad influence on his wife, getting her plastered in the middle of the day, to which he responds fondly that the peace and quiet has been wonderful. Then I make my way back to face the music with Carlos.
I push the front door open and call out, but there’s no response; I do a quick circuit of the house just in case, but it’s all just how I left it this morning. Deflated I sit on the sofa and turn on the TV, a mounting dread building in my chest. I had been re-assured by Blair, letting myself hope that I would return to find the usual happy Carlos, but this can’t be a good sign?
He eventually returns around six, but it’s clear that absence has not made his heart grow fonder, as he stalks past me to the kitchen, only offering a meek ‘hi’ in my direction.
Anger replaces the dread, I’ve had enough of this, he’s acting like a petulant child and it’s got to stop, “For God’s sake Carlos, what is the matter?” I vent harshly, “and don’t you dare say nothing, because clearly something is bothering you”.
“It’s not, I’m fine” he snaps back.
“How is this fine?” my voice is raised now.
“Just leave it” he growls.
“You know what, I wish you would just man up and say it. You don’t want me here, we both know it, so just stop with the attitude! In fact I’ll make it easy for you and just pack my things up and I’ll be gone. Happy now?” I’m shouting the words, I’m sick of rejection, I’m sick of men. They’re all the same, too cowardly to do the right thing and be honest with you, so they just act like a*sholes until you do the hard work for them. Well I’ve had enough, this isn’t going to be me anymore!
I’m storming furiously towards the stairs when he grabs my arm, “Get off me!” I yell, snatching my arm away.
“Kate, wait a minute.” He pleads, but I’m too seething to stop.
“Kate…..Kaitlin! Will you just stop!” he bursts out, grabbing my arm again and turning me towards him.
“What?” I glare at him.
“It’s not like that” his tone is soft, as if he’s been wounded by my words. “I don’t want you to go, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. It’s just……” he breaks off, lowering his head.
“Talk to me” I whisper, slowly leading him to the sofa and pulling him down to sit next to me. I wait silently for him to continue, intrigued to hear what could possibly be the cause of his unrest.
It seems like minutes before he explains, “I said to you last night about not seeing my brother much because he lives in America.” He pauses, running his hand across his forehead. “Well that’s not really the reason we don’t speak. It was a long time ago” he mentally counts the years, “seven years now.” He stops again as if weighing up if he actually wants to tell me.
Taking his hand in mine I squeeze it gently, “what happened?” I ask quietly.
“There was a girl, back then” he starts cautiously, his eyes searching my face for my reaction, “we were pretty serious, together for four years, I guess we were kind of childhood sweethearts” as he says it, the faintest wisp of a smile touches his lips, but then vanishes in the blink of an eye.
“She was my world, I was even planning on proposing, but then I spoke to Marcus; I needed my big brothers help, you know, with what to say and how to do it” he looks at me apologetically, like I should be the last person he should be telling this to. In a way I guess it’s true, but it was so long ago and with everything he has had to put up with, with Jake, I don’t think talking about his ex is really going to shake the foundations of our relationship.
“He knew how I felt about her, he knew what she meant to me” he runs his hands through his hair, it may have been seven years but it’s obvious that it still haunts him.
“Well the week after we spoke, I’ve bought the ring and I go to Marcus’s room to ask if I can hide it there and walk in on them together, in bed.” He looks as if someone has just crushed his soul, it’s as though he is re-living it just by speaking the words out loud.
“My God, your brother and your soon to be fiancée?”
He nods grimly, “Needless to say I never spoke to her again and as for Marcus, we just avoid each other.”
“But then how come your parents arranged for him to stay with you?” I question, confused by their actions.
“They don’t know what happened. They know we fell out and have never made up with each other, but they don’t know the whole story. I guess they figure it’s about time we sorted things out, but…” he trails off again, his expression tormented by the prospect.
“There’s still one thing I don’t get?”
“What?” he looks at me expectantly.
“Well, if all this has been about your brother, why have you been so angry with me?” I’m careful not to sound accusatory.
“I don’t know, I’m sorry” he looks down at his lap, too ashamed to meet my gaze. “I just can’t get the image of him being here, with you, out of my head and I guess the frustration has just been coming out in other ways”
I move in closer, cupping his chin with my hand and moving his head until he is facing me, “You know I would never do that to you, right?”
“I never thought that she would either” he replies solemnly.
He has a point there, I haven’t done anything to make him distrust me, but I haven’t done anything to prove he should trust me either; I need to keep reminding myself how short a time we’ve been together.
“Good point. Then how about I go and stay back in my old room, just while your brothers here?”
“No I don’t want that.” He states.
“It would only be for while he’s here and then as soon as he’s gone I can come back.”
“No, Kate, I …I….” for a fleeting moment I think he’s going to tell me that he loves me; my heart starts to flutter, I haven’t thought this far ahead. I mean sure, I’ve day dreamed about it, but I never for a second thought it would actually happen so soon.
“I miss you when you’re not here. I love waking up with you in the morning and coming home to you when I finish work. I don’t want to lose that, even for a few days, you’re not here for much longer now and I don’t want to miss a second of it if I don’t have to.”
I’m moved by his speech, it’s not quite ‘I love you’, but the word love was in it and that’s good enough for me.
I encircle my arms around him, “I feel the same way” I admit, holding him tight.
“I do think you should speak to Marcus when he arrives though, get it all out in the open” I venture on to thin ice.
“Kate, please just leave it.” His voice is quiet, but I can hear the subtle warning tones woven in.
“OK, OK” I put my hands up, agreeing to let it go. It is none of my business, but I hate seeing him like this, maybe I’ll speak to Marcus when he gets here, see if he will be reasonable?
We wake the next morning to a God awful clattering coming from downstairs. I spring from the bed, grabbing a stray stiletto as a weapon, ready to attack whatever intruder lurks outside. Still half asleep Carlos mumbles into the pillow, “What are you doing?”
“There’s someone downstairs” I reply in a harsh whisper, the heel raised to my shoulder and poised for action.
“It’s probably Marcus” Carlos points out, “he is incapable of doing anything quietly, but by all means throw that shoe at him, be good to bring him down a peg or two” he laughs, pulling me back down into bed and wrapping himself around me; his morning glory apparent and pressed into my back, as his hands fondle my breasts.
“Hey! I’m not doing that with your brother just downstairs”
“Awww what?” he employs his whiny child voice.
“If we can hear him, then he can hear us! I don’t want him listening in”
“But what if he stays for a week? You mean to say we won’t be having sex that whole time?”
“No, we will just have to be a little bit more inventive about where we do it” I say, turning to face him and throwing him a quick wink.
“Challenge accepted Ms. Mavers” he says, before kissing me.
“Right, come on. Let’s get up and meet this brother of yours.”
Walking downstairs, Carlos clinging to my hand possessively, I catch my first glimpse of Marcus; he’s in the kitchen, his back is to us as he moves around cooking up what smells like a fry-up. He has broad shoulders and you can make out every rippling muscle under his tight, white t-shirt. He has the same perfectly bronzed skin as Carlos, but his hair is shorter and a lighter shade than his siblings, more of a golden brown colour that shimmers when it catches the light.
He hears our approach and turns towards us, his face is almost identical to Carlos, they have the same strong jaw and dimpled cheeks, the same green eyes and captivating smile.
“Hey you guys” he says in a voice similar to Carlos but with more of an American twang. Wiping his hands on a towel he steps forward and outstretches his arms as if he is about to hug me, but I cut off his advances by extending my free hand for him instead. He shakes it firmly before greeting Carlos, “Little bro, how’s life been treating you?” he asks giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.
“Fine” Carlos smiles, politely, but offers nothing more. Marcus doesn’t seem to notice, or care and instead turns back to me, “You must be Kaitlin, I’ve heard a lot about you” I don’t know who from as he is barely on speaking terms with Carlos.
“Marcus, I presume” I say formally, keeping a wary distance, “I could say the same about you.”
“All good I hope?” he responds, as if unaware of any bad blood between them.
“Hmm” I react coldly, baffling him for only a second.
“OK, well I’ve made breakfast if you’re hungry? Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, sit down and I’ll bring it over” he turns to finish putting everything in separate serving dishes while Carlos and I move to sit at the breakfast bar; I take the end stool, while he sits in the middle, removing me from any further contact with Marcus.
Me and Carlos eat in silence, listening to Marcus chatter excitedly about his latest business venture. Something to do with import / export couriers, it’s all rather dull, but he is convinced it is some sort of goldmine.
I’m half tempted to hook him into advertising through us, Mick was just starting to toy with the idea of going international when I left. So this could be a good jumping off point, if it’s as successful as he claims it will be; but somehow I don’t think Carlos would be fond of the idea and frankly when I think about working closely with Marcus it gives me a foreboding feeling.
I don’t know if it is just what Carlos has said about him, but I can’t help feeling uneasy around him. It’s something I can’t quite put my finger on, I just can’t shake the inkling that nothing good will come of him being here.