‘You don’t know how to use it, do you?’ she says, a little teasingly. I honestly don’t.
‘Not a fucking clue,’ I admit unashamedly, slowly casting my eyes to hers. ‘The washing has always been your area of expertise.’
‘You cheeky bastard!’ she gasps, outraged, smacking my arm.
‘Mouth!’
‘Shut up. And what’s your area of expertise?’
My irritation dissipates, and I laugh, seizing her and mauling her neck for a few precious moments, sneakily flexing my hips into hers. ‘What do you think my area of expertise is?’
She chuckles and tries to swat me away, with little success. I have a firm hold, and I’m not letting go. ‘So you’re good for one thing and one thing alone?’
Picking her up, I sit her on the counter and take her hips. Her smile is dreamy. Gorgeous. And her eyes bright, considering the time of day. ‘I’m an expert at most things I do.’ I’m not boasting. I am. I tug her forward until her crotch hits mine, reawakening my dick. I look down and sigh. ‘Oh dear.’
‘Oh dear,’ she counters, pulling my face up and covering my mouth with hers, encasing my naked shoulders in her arms. Good fucking morning. And welcome home. ‘I need to get the kids ready for school,’ she murmurs, nipping the end of my tongue.
Right on cue, we hear the sleepy call of Jacob from the kitchen.
‘They’re snogging in the utility room,’ Maddie informs him tiredly. ‘Looks like we’re back to normal.’
Back to normal. Not quite. But knowing the kids get reassurance from seeing me and Ava up to our old tricks does something sweet to me. Is it that simple for them? Just to have their mum and dad here together, loving each other, being their normal selves, even if we’re not? I was starting to feel guilty about sending them away. Now, I’m more sure than ever that I did the right thing by them. Those first few days after I brought Ava home were hell. The emotions, the screaming, the distress. I wouldn’t want them to see their mum so lost and their dad so hopeless. That time with us alone was precious. It was needed. For Ava to discover who I am and what I stand for, and for her to accept it. And she does. Thankfully, she does.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by a gentle tap on my shoulder and I breathe in, looking into the eyes that have ruled me from day one. I spend a few moments rearranging her dark waves over her shoulders before picking her up off the counter and setting her on her feet. ‘You are relieved of duty.’ I swat her arse and send her on her way, her coy look over her shoulder doing nothing to help the situation behind my shorts. I flash her a warning look, but she just grins in the way she does. As soon as she’s gone, I give the washing machine a good whack, and nod, satisfied, when I hear water rushing into the drum.
‘Morning, Mum,’ I hear Jacob chime when Ava enters the kitchen, me following behind. He’s scanning the boxes of cereal on the island, all six of them. Ava must have got every type we have from the pantry, covering all angles, I guess. ‘Where’s my favourite?’ he asks.
All angles, except Jacob’s favourite. Ava’s face falls, along with my heart, and Maddie gives her brother a quick kick in the shin. ‘Stupid,’ she snipes.
I die a little on the inside when Ava looks across at me, her eyes watering. ‘It’s nothing.’ I shoot to the cupboard and snatch down Jacob’s Pop-Tarts, quickly shoving two in the toaster. ‘See? Done.’
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’ My boy’s face is so remorseful, and I’m torn between comforting him or going to Ava. My decision is made for me when Ava hastily escapes the kitchen. My shoulders drop, and I look to the kids as they watch their mum rush away, her hands wiping at her face. Fucking hell. After a quick, reassuring rub of their heads, I go after Ava, finding her in the downstairs bathroom snatching tissue from the roll.
‘Ava, baby.’ I step in and close the door behind me. ‘It’s no big deal.’ My heart cracks clean in two when she turns to face me, her bottom lip quivering, tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘I don’t even know what my son’s favourite breakfast is.’ Her voice cracks and her chin drops. ‘What kind of mother am I?’
That right there sends me into the realms of crazy mad before I can stop it, my hand reaching forward and snatching away the tissue that’s on its way to her face. ‘You stop that now,’ I order, more harshly than I meant. Her wide eyes watch me warily, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. Crowding her, I grab her face and push my forehead to hers, drilling into her with pissed-off eyes. ‘Never, ever, doubt your abilities as a mother, do you hear me?’ She nods. ‘Good.’ I push my lips to hers and kiss her hard. ‘Now wipe those eyes and get your arse back in that kitchen.’
‘Okay.’ She doesn’t argue or protest, sniffing back her emotion and pulling herself together. ‘Can I have the tissue back?’
‘No.’ I take my thumbs and drag them across her cheeks, clearing up the evidence of her tears. ‘Off you go.’ Turning her by her shoulders, I walk her back to the kitchen, only releasing her after I’ve squeezed a little reassurance into her with a flex of my hands.
She nods in understanding and goes to the cupboard to get a plate for Jacob, taking his Pop-Tarts from the toaster and sliding them across the island to him. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ He bites his lip, flicking his eyes to me nervously.
‘What?’ Ava asks, looking to me, too.
‘Nothing.’ I scoot over to the fridge and grab the peanut butter, handing it to Jacob, who proceeds to smother it over his Pop-Tarts.
‘Oh.’ Ava’s shoulders sag as she watches, a grimace growing across her face. ‘Of course he smothers his breakfast in peanut butter.’
‘You’re disgusting,’ Maddie snorts as she leaves the kitchen. ‘I’m going to get showered.’
‘And I’m going to make lunchboxes.’ Ava swirls around and scans the cupboards.
‘Top left,’ I remind her, going about finishing the coffee I started. When I’m done, I take a seat next to my boy and open my mouth for him to share, smiling as he pushes the last bit of his breakfast into my mouth. ‘Go get a shower,’ I tell him, and he’s off quickly, leaving me and Ava alone in the kitchen.
I look across to my wife, thoughtful as I devour the jar of peanut butter. I’ve been so transfixed on all the major things she needs to learn that the simple things, such as the kids’ favourite breakfast, never crossed my mind as something to get upset about. So trivial. Yet so eye-opening. One minute I’m high on hope, feeling the love and feelings pouring out of my wife, the next I’m being brought back down to earth by something stupid like Pop-Tarts. But, as I keep reminding myself, this is a marathon. Not a sprint.
I take a sip of my coffee as I watch Ava standing before the open fridge. She’s still. Staring ahead. I frown and set my mug down, watching her shoulders begin to jump up and down discreetly. Concerned, I get up and go to her, turning her around until I have her face. Tears are gushing from her eyes, streaking down her cheeks and splashing her T-shirt. ‘I don’t know what they like in their lunchboxes, either,’ she sobs, each word a helpless croak.
‘Hey.’ I lower my face to hers, nuzzling, coating my cheeks in her tears, too. We’re in this together, stress, love, despair . . . and tears. Even if I’m not crying them, they’re mine, too. I don’t get the chance to pick her up; she grabs me first, throwing her arms around my neck and practically crawling up my front. What can I do? There’s no easy fix. It’s just a matter of time and that fucking thing called patience.
I carry her to a stool and get her comfortable on my lap, her legs straddling me, her face hiding in my chest, her tears soaking into my skin. With my face in her hair, I sigh, cuddling her close. Just giving her the time she needs to get this out of her system. It’s just another part of this excruciating process. One more bump in this rocky road. How many more bumps, knock-backs, and cries are to come is daunting. But I need to be strong.
The man she married.