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That’s more than enough strings to keep me occupied.
And when it’s not, I choke my wife’s throat until she taps out, and she does tap out these days.
When the nights draw in, and Joe’s tucked up quiet in bed, I fuck Dean’s tight little ass until he bleeds for me.
And sometimes, occasionally, when I’m feeling particularly like my old cunt of a self, I’ll pretend I want to watch them fuck each other, just to check I can still make them squirm.
They didn’t call me the puppet master for nothing.
THE END
BONUS EPILOGUE
MELISSA
“Go, Mattie! Shoot! Shoot!” My arms are in the air as I cheer Matthew up the pitch we’ve marked out in the garden. I’m grinning as he avoids Dean’s last-minute effort to take the ball, and whooping loud when he takes the shot and hits right on target. “Goal! YES!”
Brutus barks at my side, his tail thumping along as I celebrate. His hide chew is still clutched tight between his paws, his tongue lolling in the summer sun.
I scratch behind his ear as I tally up the score. Alexander and Matthew have four goals to Thomas and Dean’s two. My heart swells with pride as I watch Joe’s efforts to chase after the action. He jumps up and down as though he scored the goal himself, and it’s so cute I could burst. He’s too young to know whose team he’s on, but that’s okay. Alexander gives my little brother a high-five too.
“Good job, Joe!” he says. “Teamwork.”
I think Joe is onto a good thing. He’s cheered in victory at every goal this morning, always on the winning team. I guess that’s the benefit of being the youngest – and he’s so clearly the youngest.
Alexander’s boys are getting tall. I can’t help but notice again that they’re getting really good at football, too. I might not know much about the game, sure, but any fool can see how much they’ve come on over the past twelve months or so. I work out the months in my head. It really is definitely or so. We’ve been in Wales over eighteen months already.
Wow. Soon it’ll be two years.
But that’s obvious enough as I watch little Joe bounding up the pitch. He was barely more than a baby when we got here. I don’t imagine he remembers much of London, or our life back there.
Or our parents, but I try not to dwell on that. Now isn’t the time for sadness. The sun is shining and the summer holiday from college is stretching ahead. Life is good.
It’s really good.
Being with Alexander Henley isn’t anything like I dreamed. Not at all.
It’s better.
He’s beaming as brightly as I am as he high-fives his youngest son and ruffles his hair. It makes my belly somersault with that pang of something crazy I keep getting lately. He meets my eyes and gives me a wink, and there it is again.
Somersaults and butterflies.
Even now, after so much time together, I still have butterflies.
He looks so different than he used to, Alexander. His suits have long been resigned to the back of the wardrobe, unless I convince him to dress up for old time’s sake. He’s looking super casual this morning in black jeans with well worn-knees and a short-sleeved polo shirt.
He still looks amazing. He always looks amazing.
As well as looking more casual these days, he smiles more and laughs louder. His dark hair has the finest smattering of grey at the temples and he’s not so cleanly shaven as he used to be.
But that doesn’t matter when you spend your time writing articles for law journals from your home office in the middle of nowhere. That, and helping your girlfriend with her college work.
I flash him the smile I save for him. He sees it and nods and those butterflies notch up another gear.
Yeah, I sure do love all the things that have changed, but I especially love the things that haven’t.
The way he looks at me as though he could eat me alive hasn’t changed one bit. And I hope it never does.
His eyes are still locked on mine as the game resumes. I feel the burn on my cheeks even as he takes position by Matthew to defend their half of the garden.
Thomas kicks off this time and passes a decent shot to Dean. I’m laughing as Dean makes a serious dash for it, and laughing louder as Alexander comes in for a much rougher tackle than necessary.
They both go sprawling, and Thomas is up in arms.
“Foul! Dad, that was a FOUL!” He looks across the garden at me. “Lissa, you’re referee! Give him a yellow card!”
“Was not!” Matthew protests. “Dad tackled him fair!”
Alexander brushes the grass from his knees once he’s back on his feet, but Dean’s really milking it, rolling around on his back and feigning injury. He shoots me big puppy dog eyes.
“Yeah, ref! Foul!” he shouts.
Alexander shoots Dean his best sneer. “Enough of the dramatics. I’ve given you a lot worse.”
I snort laugh and try to stifle it.
Everyone’s looking at me, and it’s funny enough that I really would give Alex a yellow card, just so he’d punish-fuck me later, but I can’t.
It comes over me so quickly.
My hand is over my mouth before I can utter a single word.
Shit.
It’s this crazy sickness bug I’ve had for weeks. I’m still trying to laugh even as I hold my stomach and double over. I grip the arm of the bench as the world spins, trying to protest even as Alexander reaches my side.
“Again?” he asks and his hand is on my back, rubbing circles that should be soothing but only make me retch harder.
“It’ll pass in a second,” I manage to say, but this time I’m not so sure.
“Half-time,” Alexander tells the others, and I guess Dean’s recovered just fine from his agonising football injury when he ushers the boys in for mid-game drinks and chocolate.
Brutus takes his chew and goes padding off after them. I love how he loves the boys. You’d never know he used to be such a grump if you met him now.
Alex waits until they’re all out of earshot, and I know what’s coming before he says it.
“This isn’t a sickness bug, Melissa.”
My eyes are watering from retching but I’m still clinging onto the desire to play this down as nothing. “It’s just a bug. That dodgy takeout.”
Alex sighs. “That dodgy takeout was weeks ago. You’re either seriously fucking ill, or you’re-“
He doesn’t say it.
I don’t say it, either.
“It’s nothing,” I tell him as the queasiness passes a little. “Probably just the tail end of food poisoning.”
“And what about the exhaustion? The two a.m quest into town for an onion bagel the other night?”
That makes me smile afresh. “Sometimes a girl just fancies an onion bagel.”
He laughs. “Not that much.”
I know he’s right.
It’s been keeping me awake at night, thinking. Wondering.
Wondering if there is a third Alexander Henley jnr. growing in my belly. But I can’t… go there…
I’m in my second year of a law degree. I have studying to do… so much studying…
Plus, we have a great set up here. Alex’s boys are settled here with us at the weekends, and they get on really well with Joe and Dean. We’ve got a whole family thing going on, and it fits. It really fits.
I don’t know what kinds of crazy a baby would add to the mix.
We were careful. I was careful. I take my pill every day, and did even on the days I was definitely ill with food poisoning, and those scary things girl
s always say about the pill not working if you’re sick, I figured those were just silly overblown facts. That the statistics must be super low, not even worth worrying about.
Yet here I am, sick in the garden. Again. Craving onion bagels and falling asleep wherever I’m sitting come mid-afternoon.
I know it just as well as Alex seems to – I’m either pregnant or seriously ill.
I just don’t know if I want to face it yet.
But he does.
“It’s time,” he says. “No more stalling, Lissa. It’s time.”
His tone is one that tells me he won’t stand me messing around. I breathe a sigh in resignation as I stand up straight.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“No,” he says. “Now. The boys will be enjoying half time with Dean. The test will take a few minutes tops. You have to pee on a stick, sweetheart, it’s not a marathon.”
“But the morning is better,” I protest.
“I read the instructions. It’s suitable for any time of the day. Plus, I bought a pack of two. You can do another in the morning if you need to.”
I take a breath, meeting the eyes of the man I adore more than life itself.
“What if it’s positive?”
He smirks. “Then we ditch the rest of the storage boxes into the garage and I get painting the nursery.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m being serious, Alex.”
“So am I.”
I take a seat on the bench and he drops down alongside me. His hand feels so warm when he takes mine, so firm and safe.
“You said you wanted children of your own,” he says.
“I do. It’s just timing. You’re relaxing, finally, after the court case crap with your dad, and Thomas and Mattie are settled, and so are Joe and Dean. Even Brutus likes the routine.”
“And we’ll all adjust just fine.”
“Nappies? Midnight changes? Crying through the night?”
He smirks again. “I’ve been there before. So have you.”
“I took care of my brother, I’m not his mum,” I say, even though he’s right, I have been there before. Under considerably more stressful circumstances too, even if I am at college now. “What about my course?”
He looks thoughtful, but not concerned. “I’m only writing part time. Dean’s photography course is part time. We’ll cope between us. Hell, Lissa, we’ve got enough to hire a whole fleet of nannies if we couldn’t cope.” He tips his head. “But we will cope. We’ll be just fine. More than fine.”
