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“We are making plans, Jamie.” She stroked my face.
“Not just Christmas plans.”
“You just signed your divorce papers…”
“I know.” I flattened my hands on her back beneath her clothes. “That’s why I need you to know where I want us to go.”
“Shouldn’t we wait?” She let out a soft moan as I worked my hands up her soft skin.
“I feel like I’ve been waiting forever, Quincy.” I touched my forehead to hers. “I want to live my life with you—”
“Jamie.” She breathed out my name as her hands squeezed my shoulders.
“I’m not saying I want to rush things, but I need to know that at some point you’re going to be ready for a lifetime of this. Of us.” My heart sank into my stomach as she sat up with her back ram-rod straight and a confused look on her face. Where did she think this was going?
“It’s not something I’ve thought about since Richard and I split. I’ve spent the last seven years focusing on being a good mum, and I’ve struggled with that. Pippa has been the only constant person in all my plans.”
My chest was constricting my lungs. I was beginning to feel panicked. What if she didn’t want this to go where I wanted it to? She said she loved me, but what if it was only enough for a fling and not a future? “Is there room for two more in your plans?”
“I thought my future was going to be me and Pippa.” She shrugged as she searched my face. “I know you’re already a big part of our lives, Jamie, but if you become more to me you’ll also become more to her. You won’t just be making plans with me.”
“I know, and the same goes for you. It’s not just me, it’s Molly too. I know all of that, but what I’m asking you is if you want to include me in your plans like I want to include you in mine?”
She smiled at me softly as her eyes caressed my face before they settled on mine, “More than anything.” She touched her lips to mine and traced them up to my ear, “Maybe we should start with my plan for tonight?”
“And what’s that?” I ran my hands to her breasts and squeezed.
“More of this,” She placed her hands on top of mine over her jumper. “A lot less clothes.”
“I’d like that.”
Quincy
Over the past week I’d seen Pippa become more and more excited about being a flower girl and going on her first plane trip. She’d spent the first couple of days of her school holiday piling all the outfits she wanted to take with her on the rocker in the corner of her room. There was a lot of tulle in bright pinks and purples. Her Converse collection was neatly arranged in a rainbow coloured streak across the cream carpet. I was trying so hard to keep all my feelings in check, but seeing it all laid out in front of me was terrifying. She’d piled her t-shirts in a rainbow pile too. I could tell that despite the excitement she was anxious. Her OCD was playing up like it always did when she was stressing about something.
Most parents would be over the moon that their six-year-old was so organised and particular. Me? Not so much. It reminded me of her dad. It was like a neon sign that said Richard Was Here or Made By Richard. Why couldn’t she have been more like me?
I opened up her grey and pink ballerina suitcase and started going through her outfits one by one. I had no idea how Richard was going to cope with all the tutus she’d neatly piled on the rocking chair. I pulled a handful from her chosen ones and started folding them into the case. She did not need two purple ones and the red was far too bright, her dad would keel over and die…on second thought…
“In you go!” I scoffed as I folded the puffy skirt in half and then in half again and tucked it under her other ones. “Good luck with that, Richard.” I giggled to myself feeling a little childish and at the same time victorious.
“Mummy?”
“Holy fu—Jesus!” I swear that girl had a gift for sneaking up on people. It was like she was some kind of stealth ninja. “Pippa, what have I told you about sneaking up on me? You’re going to give me a heart attack!”
“You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think?” She rolled her eyes as she knelt next to me on the floor. “You were talking to yourself like a crazy person.”
“I was just making a list of things we need to get for you. You can’t take all these, you know your dad isn’t a tutu fan.”
“Oh. My. God. Mum!” She growled through clenched teeth as she glared at me. “What have you done?”
“Pippa! What are you doing? I just folded those.” She scowled at me as I grabbed one of the tutus I’d packed from her hands.
“You don’t fold these! Do you not know anything?” She mumbled as she laid the skirt on the floor and rolled it neatly. “You have to do it like that so it doesn’t crease.”
“Okay, we can do that.” I took out the other skirts and helped her roll them up too. “What’s going on, sweetie? Why are you so upset?”
“I’m not. I just don’t like it when you fold my tutus. Nanny never folds them.” She took the offending items of clothing out of her suitcase again and laid them from light to dark in front of her before rearranging them neatly in the lid of the case and zipping the net across. “You’re stressing me out.”
