‘About my boobs . . .’
My eyes flip open. I fucking knew it. Wants to soak with me in the bath? I scoff. ‘You mean the perfect boobs that your husband loves just the way they are? Those boobs?’ I can’t see her, but I know she’ll have just pulled off an eye-roll worthy of an award.
‘Yes, those boobs.’
‘Forget it.’ I feel her shift under my hold. So I hold her tighter.
‘Let me see you.’
‘No.’
‘Jesse.’ Water starts to splash around us until I’m forced to release her or risk flooding the bathroom.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ I breathe as she spins over, resting a palm on each of my pecs and bringing her front down to mine. The tips of our noses meet. I’m not going over this again. No way. Those boobs are fucking perfect. And, more to the point, they’re mine. I nod my head to myself, determined to stand my ground, no matter how much she begs and no matter what she promises me. ‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘Not even for a million jars of Sun-Pat and two million Apology Fucks. No.’
‘But I hate them,’ she whines, pushing out her bottom lip. I reach down and sink my teeth into it. ‘Ouch!’
‘The answer will always be no.’
She wrenches herself free of my bite, hissing in pain as she does. Call me unreasonable, but it can’t hurt as much as what she’s suggesting. ‘Just listen.’
My hands sacrifice her arse to cover my ears. ‘Definitely not.’
‘Jesse.’
I close my eyes. ‘I’m not listening.’ I feel her lift from my body, obviously accepting that she’s going to get nowhere. Good. I hope she’s thinking about how unreasonable she’s being. A boob job? I scoff to myself in my darkness. She’s got more chance of me divorcing her.
When I’ve heard no sounds for a good few minutes, I assume she’s given up and the coast is clear, so I gingerly open one eye to check I’m alone. I’m not. I’d snap my eyes closed again, but something in her hand just caught my eye. The shower hose? She’s pulled it from the cubicle and has it pointed at me in the bath. I frown, suddenly noticing the water has drained from the tub. No! I try to get up quickly, slipping and sliding over the remaining bubbles coating the enamel of the bath. ‘Ava!’ I’m hit with water. Freezing fucking cold shards of torture. ‘Fuck!’ I lose my footing and crash to the bottom on the tub. ‘Ava, for fuck’s sake!’
‘Say you’ll listen to me,’ she demands, moving in as far as the length of hose on the showerhead will allow, which is pretty fucking close.
My whole body goes into shock, leaving me at my evil wife’s mercy. ‘Th-ree . . .’ I chatter, wondering what I can do when I get to zero. I don’t know, but it’ll be bad. So fucking bad. ‘T-t-two . . .’ I start to shake like a twat, unable to escape. Jesus, I feel like hypothermia is setting in. ‘Ava!’
‘Will you listen?’
I can’t even bring myself to get to zero. I’m too fucking cold. ‘Okay! For fuck’s sake, okay!’ The water shuts down in an instant, and I scramble from the bath and flop to my back on the floor, shivering. ‘Get me a towel, you evil witch.’ A soft bundle of cotton lands on my face, and I make quick work of scrubbing at my body. ‘Why would you do that?’ I snap, incensed. ‘If my legs weren’t frozen solid, you’d be getting the ultimate of all Retribution Fucks right now.’
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she snipes, putting the hose back in the shower. Then she wanders over to me, until she has one foot on either side of my chest. She lowers and plants her arse on my stomach, her hands on my pecs, and starts rubbing over my goose-bumped skin. ‘Let me warm you up.’
‘How kind.’ I need an oven, a quick ten minutes at 180 degrees. I’m cold to the bone.
‘The surgeon said that a little—’
I choke on nothing. ‘You’ve seen a surgeon already?’ Please, God, tell me it wasn’t a man.
‘You said you’d listen.’
‘And I fucking hate what I’m hearing, Ava.’ I push her off me and get to my feet, stomping away. ‘I can’t even look at you.’ I head for the dressing room, where I rip down a clean T-shirt from a hanger. I don’t know why; I always sleep naked, but I need something to do with my hands or I’m likely to strangle her beautiful neck. ‘If it was a bloke, don’t tell me.’ I could throw up.
‘Okay.’
I swing around, outraged. ‘So it was a bloke you flashed my boobs to?’
She shrugs. ‘You just told me not to tell you.’
‘But you just bloody did! What the fuck, Ava?’ I pull my T-shirt over my head and wrestle my arms through the sleeves, getting myself all caught up. ‘Fuck!’
‘It’s just a boob job.’
I stop trying to get my T-shirt on, leaving me with my arms all bent and trapped somewhere around my neck area. Ava’s fighting to hold back her smirk. ‘Just get a knife and kill me, because it’ll hurt a lot fucking less than what you’re suggesting.’ I realise my stupidity the moment the words have left my mouth. Ava’s hint of a grin vanishes, and she recoils, her watery eyes dropping to my torso where two hefty scars mar my skin. I curse my idiotic arse to hell and back a thousand times over as I calmly untangle my arms and pull my T-shirt down my body, hiding my scars from my wife’s sad eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ I breathe, feeling nothing short of awful. Our story is epic, but I would rather it be missing that particular part.
‘I would never hurt you,’ she says quietly, turning and walking away from me.
I ball my fist and slam it onto my forehead. ‘Baby, wait.’ I chase after her, grabbing her wrist and swinging her around. She doesn’t fight me. She does the exact opposite, in fact. She launches herself at me and takes on her customary baby chimp hold of me, sinking her face deep into my neck. I couldn’t feel any more terrible. ‘I’m sorry.’ I cling to her, feeling the wetness of her tears on my neck.
‘I know it’s been a long time.’ She hiccups over her words. ‘But just remembering how terrified I was when I thought I’d lost you makes me feel it all again. And I panic. Because look how in love I was with you back then. Look how much I needed you. Twelve years later, all of those feelings have multiplied by a million, and the thought of losing you cripples me, Jesse.’ She breathes in shakily.
I close my eyes and make sure I hold on to her that little bit tighter. ‘No one’s going to take me away,’ I vow, meaning it with every fibre of my being.
‘You talk like you’re indestructible.’
‘I am. If I have you and the kids, nothing can touch me, Ava.’ I force her away and scan her face, wiping her cheek of tears. We don’t talk about the events of that day. Lauren is still locked up in a padded cell somewhere under constant assessment, and there’s a restraining order in place in case that ever changes. Which, I’m advised, won’t. Premeditated attempted murder, carefully plotted and very nearly carefully executed. No one will be seeing her for a very long time. ‘Don’t cry, baby. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.’
Reaching for my hair, she tugs on a huff mixed with a little chuckle. ‘That’s not funny.’
‘Shut up and kiss me, woman.’
She’s on me like a lion, all parts of our horrid past pushed away, leaving room for only the good memories. The amazing memories. Memories that we build on every day of our beautiful existence together. Just us and our babies.
Chapter 5
As I dip and weave through the traffic on Park Lane the following week, the roof of my DB9 Volante down, the wind rushing past, I dial Drew to pass the time on my way to the health club. Just passing the time.
‘Afternoon!’ I greet, all chipper when he answers.
‘Yes, what do you want?’
‘That’s no way to greet a friend.’ I grin to myself as I sail through an amber light and switch lanes, ignoring the honking of some knob in a Bentley.
‘What do you want?’ he repeats, sounding utterly bored by the conversation that hasn’t even got off the ground yet. I’m about to remedy that.
‘Just wondering how you’re feeling now you’re claimed for life.’