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)
He sighs.
“Dad, I’ve made more money in the last sixteen years than I could spend in ten lifetimes. Something good has to come out of everything that’s happened.”
“You have,” he says. “You’ve come back to us.”
“I have. And I became really rich while I was gone.”
He chuckles, and an easy silence falls between us. “You know, Jesse, I don’t know what it was that drove me and my brother apart,” he says quietly. “But it wasn’t that place. It was difficult even before The Manor.”
I nod to myself, taking another strawberry. I feel like Dad and Carmichael’s relationship may have been similar to Jake’s and mine. One golden boy and one rebel. Dad and Jake were the golden boys, Carmichael and I were the rebels. And that wasn’t on Dad and Jake. That was on us. We chose our paths. I’m just so fucking grateful mine eventually led back to my family. Carmichael’s path led him to an early, tragic death. But I’ve finally accepted that that’s not solely on my head. I have to let go of the guilt. And now, I can finally start. “Go buy Mum something nice, Dad,” I say. “Can’t wait to see you later.”
“You too,” he replies gently. “Love you, son.”
He can’t say it enough. I know how he feels. The desperation for someone to know how much they mean to another. I know how much I mean to him. Finally. I hang up and sigh, a happy, contented sigh, as I put the strawberries back in the fridge and head for the bathroom to take a shower, taking my phone with me in case someone else rings and Ava gets suspicious. She’s still sleeping when I pass through the bedroom. I slip the paperwork into the bedside table and go to the bathroom, flipping the shower on. My mobile rings as I’m placing it down by the sink, and I still, staring at the Scotland number.
I breathe in, staring at it ringing. Can I?
I bite my lip, answering. “Alan,” I say, hiding the surprise and trepidation from my voice.
“Jesse,” he breathes. “How are you?”
I look down at my stomach. “I’m well,” I answer, not feeling the need to inflict anymore anguish and guilt on him. “How are you?”
“Well,” he replies, not achieving what I have. He sounds completely overcome. “I . . .” An uncomfortable silence descends, and it’s absolutely not what I want or need. “I’m—”
“Alan, you don’t need to—”
“She’s—”
“I don’t want to talk about Lauren,” I say, feeling harsh, but he doesn’t need to call me to justify or tell me where she is or what’s happened to her. I know. I listened. And then I pushed it out of my mind and went back to my wife to carry on with my life. “Are you okay?” I ask. I only care how they are.
“I am,” he breathes, almost in relief. He thought he owed me more than he does. “I’m okay.”
“I’m glad.”
There’s an awkward silence again, and I honestly don’t know what else to say. So I say nothing and hope he does.
“I’m glad you’ve found happiness, Jesse,” he says softly. “You deserve to be happy.”
“That means a lot, Alan,” I reply, hiding my surprise well. “Thank you.”
“Well, I’ll be going then.”
“Take care.”
“You too.”
I hang up and lower to the toilet seat. I deserve to be happy. I think I’m slowly getting my head around that.
53
I rub the towel through my hair, standing at the bathroom door watching her. She’s awake now. Relaxed, stretched out, peaceful. “Comfy?” I ask, winning her attention. I swear, I have never seen Ava looking more perfect. Glowing.
“No,” she says. “Because you’re not in here with me.” She indicates for me to join her and, of course, I do, kneeling on the end of the bed and working my way up until I can half lie on her, my chin on her belly.
“Good morning, my beautiful girl,” I whisper, as her hand slips into my hair.
“Good morning.” She sighs. “What are we doing today?”
Oh, she will love it. “I have it all planned out.” But there wasn’t much actual planning, to be honest. This time, it’s not about scale. It’s about us. Us and the people who love us. “You will do what you’re told,” I say, looking up at her as I kiss her belly. I’m counting the kisses needed to cover her bump. More are needed each week.
“Does it involve cards?” she asks, coy.
“No.” I smile, remembering our last game of cards in Paradise. It ended in Sleepy Twilight Sex.
“Does it involve Twilight Sleepy Sex?”
“Maybe later.” When my family aren’t around.
“Then I’ll do whatever you want.”
Of course she won’t. “Your day starts right now, Mrs. Ward.” I finish coating her belly with my kisses and move, sitting myself on her hips. I reach for the bedside cabinet and grab the paperwork—Ava’s wedding present, my wedding present—and hand it to her. “Here.”