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)
“What’s this?” She warily accepts the paperwork that details the sale of The Manor. Fucking hell, it’s gone.
“Just open it.”
She looks utterly terrified as she works the envelope open, her eyes jumping from me to her working hands. She pulls out the paper and reads, the lines on her head increasing the farther she gets down the page. I bite at my lip, waiting.
“You’ve bought another house?” she eventually asks.
“No.” I smile. “I’ve sold The Manor.” My God, I’ve sold The Manor. That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. It’s feels surreal.
“You’ve what?” she breathes, lifting beneath me, trying to sit herself up. She looks completely stunned. Expected, I suppose. In the end, it wasn’t such a hard decision. I’ve outgrown the grand, magnificent building. It no longer has a place in my life. Besides, as I noted on my various walks around the grounds, it’s wasted. Now, it’ll be an incredible golf course and thousands of people will get to enjoy what I have these past few months. The gardens.
I encourage Ava back down to the bed. “I’ve sold The Manor.” I shift and spread myself all over her, cupping her face with my palms.
“I heard you,” she whispers, scanning my face. “Why?”
Why? She doesn’t need to ask. The Manor no longer gives me purpose and reason. John first told me that weeks ago. I know Ava’s often thought it, but she would never have enforced such a monumental ask. I kiss her instead, and our lips coming together suck us into the usual vortex of passion.
The Manor is gone.
My life is here ready to be lived.
I hum, happy. “You taste heavenly, lady.”
“Why?” she repeats, her limbs coiling around my body, locking me to her. She wants something. So I’ll give her one of the many reasons she won’t have considered.
“You know when you’re a kid?” I say. “At primary school, I mean.”
She smiles through her frown. “Yeah.”
“Well.” How do I explain this? “What the hell would I do if the babies asked me to go in for one of those open days these schools have?”
Her curiosity is dying and her humor growing. She knows where this is heading. But she’ll still make me say it. “Open day?”
“You know, when daddies stand up and tell their kids’ classmates they’re a fireman or a copper.” I knew she’d find this funny. I roll my eyes to myself. “What would I say?”
“You’d tell them you’re The Lord of The Sex Manor.” She giggles, and the sound is life. But still, she’s mocking me. This was a very real worry. I grab her hip and tickle her. “Stop!”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.”
“Please stop!”
I do, only because I don’t want her peeing on me. “You would tell them that you own a hotel,” she says, her breathing labored as she gathers herself, her grin massive. “Just like we’d tell the babies.”
Just like that. But I’ve been there. It was fucking stressful. Besides, like I said, that’s not the only reason. New beginnings. I lift off her and drop to my back, knowing she’ll soon be straddling me. And she is, being careful to avoid the site of my wound, hands on my bare chest, her belly directly in my sights. “I don’t want it anymore,” I say, holding her thighs.
“But it was Carmichael’s baby,” she whispers. “You wouldn’t sell it when your mum and dad demanded it, so why now?”
And there’s the thing—they never actually demanded it. They begged, and there’s a huge difference. I should have sold it when Mum and Dad begged me to. But, again, I wouldn’t have met Ava, and that seems like an impossible something to accept. “Because I have you three,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to her tummy. All I feel is complete wonder whenever I look at her belly.
“You’ll always have us three, anyway.”
“I want you three and nothing to complicate that. I don’t want to lie to our babies about my job. I would never allow them to spend any time there, which means my time with you and the babies would be limited. The Manor was an obstruction. I don’t want any obstructions.” And that is that. “I have a history”—a painful, complicated history—“and The Manor should be part of it.”
I watch as she absorbs the words. She wants to smile but feels guilty. I wish she’d smile. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. “So I get you all day every day?”
“If you’ll have me,” I counter, slightly shy, also confident, especially when I see her relent and let loose that smile.
She attacks me, thrilled, and it’s the best response, but just as I’m about to indulge, she shoots back up, all delight gone, worry replacing it. “What about John and Mario? And Sarah? What about Sarah?”
I don’t want to talk about Sarah. I still can’t believe how blind I was. How I let guilt get in the way of my own happiness. And Ava’s. “I’ve spoken to them.” Or John and Mario, anyway. I’ve not seen Sarah, but John’s told me what her plans are. I half listened. Pretended to care. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her for what she did. And tried to do. “Sarah’s taking up an opportunity in the US and John and Mario are more than ready for retirement.” I’ve made sure retirement will be comfortable, and the golf resort will reemploy most of the other staff. It was part of the deal. The very sweet deal, just as John said it would be.