This Man (This Man #1)

Ava’s hands start threading through his blond hair, stroking while he listens. We settle and swing for a while, all of us quiet and relaxed, legs swinging freely, heads resting on various shoulders. I could stay here all night, but it’s getting chilly and Sam will be here soon with his girls, as well as Drew with his. I smile. Raya gave birth only last week to a little girl, Imogen, bang on time. All these girls; by the rule of probability, Ava has to have a boy in there. I pray she has a boy in there.

‘Come on, it’s getting cold.’ I nod to Ava’s nipples on a smirk, and she rolls her eyes. ‘The gang will be here soon.’

Jacob is first off the bench, helping a puffing Ava to her feet. ‘Thank you, darling.’ Her arm goes around his shoulders as they start back to the house together. My boy. My gorgeous, sweet, thoughtful boy. He’s overtaken Maddie in height now, clearing her by a good few inches. He’s not far off Ava.

I feel the sleeve of my T-shirt lift and look out the corner of my eye to see Maddie inspecting the scar left behind. She doesn’t look sad these days when she’s feeding her need to see it at least once a day. These days, she smiles. ‘Did your life flash before your eyes, Dad?’

I laugh and dip, hoisting her up over my shoulder and following on after Jacob and Ava. The sweet sound of my girl’s squeal fills my ears. ‘Yes, and do you know what I thought?’

‘What did you think?’ she asks, bouncing upon my shoulder in time to my strides.

‘I thought about how much I’d miss your sass.’

‘No you didn’t,’ she laughs, slapping my back. ‘Hey, Dad. Can I go to the cinema on Friday with Robbie?’

Robbie. So that’s the flavour of the month. ‘Sure you can.’ I set her on her feet when we make it to the house, leaving her behind as I follow Ava and Jacob. ‘What are we watching?’ I call behind me.

‘You’re hilarious.’ Her exasperation makes me chuckle as I open the fridge and pull out some Sun-Pat. But that chuckle fades to nothing when it’s swiped from my hand. ‘Hey!’

Ava grins and sashays as best she can to a stool, finger-dipping my jar as she clambers onto the seat. ‘What’s yours is mine,’ she declares, popping a delicious-looking finger into her mouth and making an over-the-top job of licking it clean.

I hear the kids laugh as I sulk at my wife, wondering why, of all the things she could crave, it has to be my pots of heaven. Sharing my vice is no joke. I’ve only just got to grips with Jacob pinching my passion. ‘Share,’ I order, taking myself swiftly across the kitchen and joining her on the next stool, my mouth dropping open. I may even be dribbling.

Humming, she scoops out a huge dollop and holds it out to me. This part of the sharing process I don’t mind at all. My mouth watering, I move in to claim her finger. But she quickly diverts it to her own mouth, lapping it up quickly on a satisfied smile and sparkly eyes. I recoil, disgusted by her game, though the kids seem to think it’s hilarious.

Only one word comes to mind. ‘Three,’ I practically snarl, widening her grin.

‘Oh boy,’ Jacob sighs, collecting some juice from the fridge. ‘Mum, will you ever learn?’

‘Don’t mess with the peanut butter,’ Maddie adds, resting her elbows on the counter and settling in for the show. ‘You’ll pay, and your bladder isn’t as strong these days.’

I laugh on the inside when Ava tosses her an indignant look, her finger hanging out of her mouth. ‘Stay out of it, sassy-pants.’

Maddie shrugs her shoulders, chin resting in the palms of her hands. ‘I’m my mother’s daughter. Ask Dad.’

She isn’t wrong. ‘Two,’ I say, turning back to Ava, my eyebrows high.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my bladder.’ She takes another huge helping of the good stuff, her nose high. ‘And if there is, it’s your fault.’ She nods at the kids in turn.

‘One.’ I start drumming my fingers, all casual and cool, appearing tired of the light banter. I’m not tired at all. These moments, the simple moments, are some of my favourite family times.

‘Mine,’ Ava whispers, plunging in her finger again and holding it up in demonstration before lapping it clean. ‘Get your own, Ward.’

‘Zero, baby.’ I’m off the stool in a flash, my fingertips homing straight in on Ava’s weak spots.

‘No!’ The jar is quickly cast aside in favour of my arms.

‘You asked for it,’ Maddie sings, going on her way and leaving us to it. ‘Don’t pee yourself.’

‘Whose is the peanut butter?’ I ask in her ear, handling her gently but firmly. ‘Just say the words, baby, and I’ll stop.’

‘Never!’ She laughs, fighting my hands away with little success. ‘Ohhhhh . . .’

My torturing fingers stop. That wasn’t a regular sound that I hear when I’m tickling her stupid. I release her in a heartbeat, scanning her up and down. ‘A twinge?’

Jacob’s by my side quickly, and Maddie’s not far behind. Ava stills while we all wait with bated breath for her conclusion, her eyes focused on her bump as she drops to her feet from the stool. ‘Yeah, I think . . . oh my FUUUUCK!’ She doubles over and screams, forcing all of us to cover our ears or burst our drums. ‘Sorry, kids,’ she adds, starting to pant.

‘Bloody hell!’ Maddie starts running circles around the kitchen in a panic. ‘Peanut Junior is coming!’

‘Shit!’ Jacob yells.

My head could pop off my neck. What’s with all this fucking bad language? ‘Will everyone watch their mouths!’ I yell, taking Ava’s elbow.

‘But the baby’s coming!’ Maddie shouts, still doing panicked laps of the kitchen. ‘Call an ambulance. The doctor. Anyone!’

‘It’s coming!’ Jacob covers his face with his palms. ‘It’s because you tickled her!’

Christ, everyone needs to calm the hell down. I take a deep breath. ‘Don’t worry, kids,’ I say calmly. ‘Dad’s got this.’ Am I telling them, or myself? ‘Maddie, you get Mum’s bag. Jacob, you get my mobile so I can call the hospital and tell them we’re on our way.’

We all flinch when Ava lets out another almighty, bloodcurdling scream, grabbing onto me with both hands, her nails puncturing my forearms. ‘Fucking hell, Ava,’ I hiss, prising her buried claws one by one out of my flesh. ‘Sorry, kids.’

‘Does that hurt, Ward?’ she pants, bending, starting to sweat.

‘Just a bit.’ I play it down. I shouldn’t have. She sinks her nails into me again on an evil look.

‘Good.’

Jesus, she’s turning into a psycho. I watch the kids fly out of the kitchen to fulfil their orders, and realign my focus on Ava. ‘You want to sit?’

‘No!’

‘You want to stand, then?’

‘No!’

‘Right.’ I roll my eyes, accepting my mobile when Jacob thrusts it at me.

‘You okay, Mum?’

‘Yes, darling.’ She reaches blindly for his head and gives it a loving, reassuring pat. ‘I love you.’

I recoil, shaking my head in wonder. So she’s just a psycho bitch with me, then? Dialling the hospital, I keep hold of Ava as she moans, constantly cursing me and apologising to the kids. ‘Hi, my wife’s gone into labour. Ava Ward.’ I watch Ava’s face turn bright red. ‘We’ll be around half an hour.’ Her nostrils start to flare. ‘Yeah, great. Bye.’ I hang up and hand the phone to Jacob. ‘Call Nan and tell her to get her arse here quick.’

‘We can’t come?’ He looks totally put out.

‘Trust me, mate. You don’t want to be anywhere near your mother while she’s pushing Peanut Junior out.’

‘I’d rather him than you,’ Ava spits, going into another scream, grappling at my arms.

‘There’s no need for that now, is there?’ I sound so condescending, but other than dishing out a Retribution Fuck, which is off the cards right now, I have no other option but to humour her. ‘It’s your body that rejected the pill.’ She’s not slapping this on me. No way.

‘Really, Dad?’ Maddie smacks my arm. ‘You’re saying that to her when she’s in labour?’

So it’s gang up on Dad day? Has it escaped everyone’s notice that I’m the only calm one around here? ‘Jacob, call your nan,’ I order, this time less calmly. Ava’s contractions have come on fast, and there’s not much space between them. I pull Ava’s hair from her damp face and indicate for Maddie to tie it up with the hairband on her wrist as Jacob dials Elizabeth.

‘Nan, it’s Jacob.’ He dances on the spot, eyes on his mother. ‘Mum’s in labour. Dad said get your arse here now.’

I hear my mother-in-law’s screech of joy. ‘Tell her to hurry,’ I call.