‘You have me.’ he affirms, as if he’s read my mind. He probably has.
I nod, trying to convince myself that he is all I need, but with two babies to take care of and Jesse at The Manor, I can see loneliness looming—a place where adult interaction is limited because, let’s face it, getting out and about with two babies is going to be tough and relying on visits from friends will be what I’m resorted to.
‘Have you decided?’
I look up, finding a waitress armed with a pad and pen, ready to take our order. She’s smiling brightly, and she’s smiling brightly at Jesse. ‘I’ll have the steak, please.’ I say, my hand slipping onto his knee instinctively, indicating the beginning of my own little trampling session. She makes no attempt to write anything down and doesn’t ask how I’d like it cooked. She just hovers, all starry eyed and dreamy as her greedy eyes run continuous trails up and down my God’s seated frame. ‘I’ll have the steak.’ I repeat, minus the please. ‘Medium.’
‘Pardon?’ She rips her eyes away from Jesse, who is hiding a small smirk as he pretends to read the menu.
‘The steak. Medium. Would you like me to write it down for you?’ I ask tightly. I hear Jesse chuckle.
‘Oh, of course.’ Her pen hand kicks into action. ‘And for you?’ she asks, looking at my parents.
‘Mussels for me.’ Dad grunts.
‘And the seafood platter for me.’ Mum sings. ‘And I’ll have another wine.’ She raises her glass.
The waitress scribbles it all down before turning back towards Jesse. She’s smiling again. ‘And for you, sir?’
‘What would you recommend?’ He blows her back a few metres with his smile, reserved only for women.
I roll my eyes as I watch her pull at her ponytail and blush profusely. ‘The lamb is good.’
‘He’ll have the same as me.’ I collect up the menus and shove them at her, smiling sweetly. ‘Medium.’
‘Oh?’ She looks at Jesse for confirmation.
‘The wife has spoken.’ He leans in and drapes his arm over my shoulder, but keeps his eyes on the waitress. ‘I do as I’m told, so it looks like I’m having the steak.’
I scoff, mum and dad laugh, and the waitress swoons all over her pad, almost certainly wishing that she had a God who did what he’s told. What a joke. She backs away, slipping her pen and pad into the front pocket of her apron.
‘You’re impossible.’ I say quietly, as my parents chuckle and look across the table fondly at Jesse making a meal of eating my neck. ‘And since when do you do what you’re told?’
‘Ava, that was really quite rude.’ Mum chastises me. ‘Jesse can make his own meal choices.’
‘It’s okay, Elizabeth.’ He sucks on my neck a bit more. ‘She knows what I like.’
‘You like to be impossible.’ I quip, rubbing the side of face into his stubble.
‘I love watching you in trampling action.’ he whispers in my ear. ‘I could bend you over this table and f**k you really hard.’
I don’t gasp or recoil at his crass words, spoken with no concern for the company we’re sharing. They were definitely for my ears only. I turn into him, pushing my mouth to his ear. ‘Stop saying the word f**k, unless you’re going to f**k me.’
‘Watch your mouth.’
‘No.’
He laughs and bites my neck. ‘Cheeky.’
‘Let’s raise a toast!’ Dad’s cheerful tone pulls us out of our private moment. ‘To twins!’
‘To twins!’ Mum chants, and we all clink our glasses in acknowledgment to the fact that I’m going to get really fat.
* * *
I enjoy my steak, but I can’t help staring longingly across the table as my mum and dad plough their way through a delicious selection of seafood. After Jesse pays the bill, we take a slow wander back to my parent’s house, mum pointing out all of sites to Jesse as we walk and chat. When we get home, dad takes his usual seat in the window, armed with his remote control, and mum puts the kettle on.
‘Bedtime tea?’ she asks.
Jesse looks across the kitchen to me, clocking me yawning. ‘No, I’m taking Ava to bed. Come on, lady.’ He walks over and rests his hands on my shoulders, then proceeds to direct me out of the kitchen. I make no objection, whatsoever. ‘Say goodnight to your mother.’
‘Goodnight, Mother.’
‘Yes, you get to bed. You have an early start.’ she says, flicking the kettle on.
‘Say goodnight to your father.’ Jesse instructs as we pass the lounge.
‘Goodnight, Dad.’
‘Goodnight, you two.’ Dad doesn’t even crane his neck around from the television.
I’m pushed up the stairs and guided down the hallway until we reach the guest room, where he begins to strip me down. ‘That was nice.’ I muse as my dress is pulled up over my head.
‘It was, but your mum is still a pain in the arse.’ Jesse replies dryly. ‘Give me your wrist.’