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I tell myself it feels good because it’s for her. It’s for Cait and it’s making her happy. I tell myself it’s okay because we’re only pretending to be a couple for the sake of her family. That outside of this we are still just friends.
I focus on her and the happiness that glows around the table—the bustling table that’s big enough to hold a football team and then some. Her brothers have eased up on me now that a few drinks have been consumed and we’re talking football; there’s a lot to be said for supporting the same team. As for their wives and her mum, they’ve eagerly welcomed me in and I get the impression they’re just happy that Cait’s ‘finally’ brought a boyfriend home.
The one person I struggle with is her dad. It’s one thing to be polite, friendly, happy with everyone else, but with him... I don’t want to pretend. Not about his daughter, who I know is his world. I don’t doubt for a second that the Careys love their kids equally, but she is a daddy’s girl, the youngest and the one they were holding out for, thanks to the sons that came before.
I know all this because they’ve actually said it, joked about it even. They’re all so free and open and loving. Just as Cait is.
I feel the heavy weight in my gut, the tug on my heart that won’t quit, and I have to cough to swallow the dessert wine her father has just poured for me.
‘Very nice,’ I say, keeping my eye contact brief as I battle with my conscience and the wish that things could be different. ‘Thank you.’
‘Thank you for helping; we’d still be decorating if you hadn’t turned up.’ He winks at me as he sits back down at the table. ‘Not to mention the help with the rabble.’
He gestures to the kids; now fed and watered, all seven have left the table and are once again tearing around like they’re on speed, though Cait assures me it’s just the excitement of Christmas running in their veins.
‘It’s been a pleasure.’ And it has, in spite of my inner turmoil.
I know I’ve yet to convince Cait though. I catch the occasional crease between her brows when she’s watching
me; I’ll reassure her as soon as I get her home.
I’ll reassure her all the more once I get her in that elf get-up again and do everything I wanted to do last night and more. I’ll reassure her when it’s back to being about sex. Just sex. Because loving her is too easy when I can mask it in make-believe.
‘You know, you could always stay, Cait? You and Jackson are more than welcome, and your old room is all made up.’
She tenses up beside me. I tense too.
‘No, thanks, Mum. I have work tomorrow; it’s easier if—’
I watch the way the light threatens to flicker out in her mother’s face, see her father place his hand over his wife’s arm and the latter speaks volumes.
‘It’s okay, Cait, I can drop you back at yours early enough tomorrow.’
Her head snaps to me, her surprise so evident in her frown. ‘Really?’
‘Yes...if you’d like to?’ I add a nod when I see her continued hesitation.
‘Okay.’ She shakes her head at me, her smile disbelieving, but there’s a glow about her, a happiness, and my chest tightens. It’s hardly keeping it about the sex, playing happy families. But seeing her happy, her mother and father too, it makes it feel right.
I don’t know what the deal is, whether they don’t see Cait much these days and miss her, or whether they’re worried about her in general, but I know having her stay is important to them and I can do this.
And what about tomorrow, and the next day and the next, when they expect you to be an item?
She leans over and kisses my cheek. ‘Thank you.’
I breathe in her floral scent, her happiness, and smile. ‘You’re welcome.’
I’m sure we can work our way out of this when we’re ready. But for now I’m going to enjoy making Cait happy. I’m going to enjoy being a normal everyday couple, in a normal everyday family...
And maybe, just maybe, Granny’s eggnog went to your head hours ago.
* * *
I climb out of bed to turn off the light, but as my finger hovers over the switch I turn back to look at him. Jackson. In my bed. My childhood bed.
It couldn’t be more fantastical if my bedding was still covered in fluffy rabbits and flowers. I’ve never brought a partner home.
And I haven’t now, I remind myself and ignore the twist to my stomach.
