Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“Oh dear,” John quips, leaving us.
“What about?” I ask, laughing at the filthy look Sam chucks back at John.
“I think I may have been a bit hasty.”
I put myself on the other couch. “I already said you can play one more time—no medical necessary.” For old time’s sake.
“Yes, and Kate will be here soon. It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
“Well, the food’s great.”
“I know.”
“And the spa facilities the best in the area. Probably the whole of the south.”
“I know.”
“And I love hitting a ball over the net every now and then.”
“Cause what else will you do while your girlfriend works and you . . . don’t?”
He smirks, not offended. Kate won’t need to work either, but she will. And her cakes really are masterpieces. “Girlfriend,” Sam muses, rolling the word over his tongue, falling into a brief daydream as I study him, amused, grateful for the respite from my troubles. “Weird.” He shakes his head, sitting up on the couch. “And my mates are here,” he adds, smiling.
For now, yes. My thoughts jar me. “What are you saying?” I ask, frowning to myself.
“Can I have a reduced mate’s rate for use of the facilities, minus . . .” He points to the ceiling.
“Sure.” And that is that. Talking of mates. “Drew coming by later?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Sam gets up and gets on his way. “He’s been weird since—” He stops halfway across my office, his body still.
“Weird since what?” I ask, slowly rising too, certain I don’t like his persona. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine.” Sam nearly knocks me out with the width of his smile. “He’s got a lot of pressure at work. I didn’t see him much this weekend.”
“He’ll put himself in an early grave.”
“Yeah, anyway, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” I say, absentminded again, slowly lowering to the couch. I need some fucking answers.
40
I spend the rest of my day avoiding Sarah. Compulsory. And checking the verdict on rougher than average sex during pregnancy. Also, according to my wife, compulsory. And, damn it, no harm can be done to babies through sex. But no one fucks like Jesse Ward.
I’m on my way out to collect Ava from work when Sarah appears from nowhere, blocking my path to the Aston. My eyes move to the gravel as I take a wide berth around her. “You can hardly look at me,” she says, but I don’t stop, can’t stop. She’s right, I can’t look at her. She’s here, like she begged, and that’s all I can offer her. “See you tomorrow,” I say over my shoulder.
“Jesse, come on, can’t it be like old times?”
Old times.
Pain, alcohol, ignorance.
Old. Times.
* * *
“She’s trouble, son. I’m just telling you to be careful.”
Be careful? Is that some kind of backward code for “do as you’re told and expected”?
“But I’m trouble too, aren’t I?” I retort on a slur. Even drunk I could tell my dad I wouldn’t go there with Carmichael’s girlfriend, not even with a stick. But I won’t. Why would I pacify him? I’m everything he predicted and dreaded, so no one wins.
“Your wife is pregnant, Jesse, for Christ’s sake.”
“She won’t be my wife soon.” I take backward steps, retreating back into The Manor. Into my haven. “Because I never wanted to marry her.”
“But she’ll still be the mother of your child.” He waves a hand up and down my drunk form. “Look at you. Is this how you’ll parent? Drunk?” Then his hand is waving at The Manor. “In this . . . this . . . sordid sex haven?”
“I’ll be a good father,” I say, repeating Carmichael’s words. “I don’t have to be married to be a good father.”
“No, but you need to be sober!” he bellows, his emotions getting the better of him. “For Christ’s sake, Jesse. Think of your mother. Hasn’t she been through enough?”
I stop in my tracks. “You mean losing Jake?”
“Yes, I mean losing Jake!”
“I lost him too!” I scream, nearly falling to my arse, stumbling with the help of alcohol and emotion. Dad recoils, shocked. Good. Perhaps he appreciates my agony now, because it sure doesn’t look like he’s feeling any himself. “I lost him too,” I say more calmly.
“We can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore, Jesse. We can’t fix you.”
I laugh, and it’s demented. “Then you shouldn’t have fucking broken me in the first place.”
I turn and walk back into my sanctuary. Where no one judges me. Where I’m loved, appreciated. Where the pressures and consequences of life don’t exist.
Or, more significantly, the consequences of my life don’t exist.
* * *
I stop in my tracks and look back at Sarah. “Why did you tell my dad that we slept together?”
It’s only one subtle step, but she definitely backs up, wary. “What?”
“Why did you tell my dad that we slept together?” I ask again, this time clearer, slowly, turning my body fully toward her.