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Saturday.
We have a lazy morning with my parents. My mum cooks us a full English breakfast and enjoys feeding Damien. Damien eats a lot especially when it comes to home-cooked food. I help mum with the dishes, and we potter about the house, while Damien and my dad read the papers and put the world to rights. I love how well he has settled into my family.
Damien has planned our day today. He has also firmly stated that the day has been paid for by him and he will under no circumstances accept any money from my father. It is his treat (well ours he actually said, but it’s his money) and any offer will be seen as an insult. So, there you go Dad, no arguments.
The car picks us up at 1:00pm. It’s not George our driver but Damien does seem to know him. Damien pops a bottle of champagne and pours it, handing my parents a glass. My mum is extremely impressed.
The car pulls up right outside the doors of the palace theatre. I had an idea this might be where we were going. Last night my mum mentioned that she hadn’t been to the theatre for years and that she loved to go as a child with her mum, my grandma. I saw Damien’s mind working as she told him.
“Oh my goodness! Damien, this is wonderful.” My mum sobs happy tears as we all climb out of the car. We walk straight in and are greeted by the doorman by name. My Dad raises his eyebrows and I laugh. Yes dad, this is what life with Damien King is like, you better get used to it.
We are shown to our box and a gentleman takes our drinks and snacks order. I need all the snacks, this baby is hungry today. We have a perfect view of the stage from our box. I’m sat next to mum and she keeps squeezing my hand in excitement while point things out to me. She is in her element. Damien smiles as he watches her enjoy herself. Our child is so lucky to have Damien as their father. People in the audience look up to our box, obvious checking to see if we are celebrities. Dad pretends not to notice the attention, but I can see the pride in his eyes and body language.
The show is phenomenal. I’m an emotional wreck, blooming hormones.
“Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Not usually my kind of thing, the theatre, but I enjoyed that.” My dad says as we make our way out of the box. The car is waiting for us outside the exit. It takes us to the restaurant Damien has made reservations at. My dad loves his steaks, so Damien has booked Hawksmoor, the best steaks in Manchester. The restaurant is located in a late Victorian courthouse. The interior is true to the building’s features with a beautiful parquet floor, wood panelling, and clean brick walls. It’s a lovely atmosphere.
Mum and dad get the Chateaubriand, Damien gets the Porterhouse and I get a Filet. We all thoroughly enjoy our food while chatting and laughing the evening away. Mum and dad are telling Damien all sorts of stories of me growing up, they find them hilarious. I’m just sitting here storing the evening away in my memories. It’s so lovely having my parents and Damien getting along so well.
Once our bellies are full, and I’m feeling a little tired, we head home.
Dad offers Damien a nightcap, but he refuses. He has not had a drop of alcohol since I told him I was pregnant. It’s like he is pregnant too.
Sunday, Damien is up early getting ready for golf with my Dad. He is wandering around my bedroom in his expensive and very well-fitted golf attire. He is so goddam sexy. Even more so knowing he is doing this for my dad and me. Damien has been having lessons and learning all he can so him and my dad can have a good game. His bum in those silky trousers, yum. Damien catches me staring. His gazes turns dark. “You like what you see?”
“MMMmm I do.” Damien looks at his watch.
“On your knees then my Bella, I’ve got 10 minutes.”
The boys go off to golf in Damien’s Bentley. My dad will be the talk of the golf club arriving in that. He looked very impressed when he got in it with his golf clubs.
Mum and I are going out wedding and baby shopping. Damien has arranged for the driver we had yesterday to take us around. Mum said she didn’t mind driving, but Damien insisted as Damien does, and he is right, it will save us time having to find parking spaces everywhere.
First, we go to some bridal shops. Just to have a look. We haven’t set a date or anything yet, although I know Damien would prefer sooner rather than later. I think we should wait until the baby is here. I would like to decide on my colour theme though at least. Plus, mum needs to know so she can get her outfit sorted, as that will take months knowing her.
We are having a lovely day, browsing. Mum’s a little tipsy as we keep getting offered champagne, I’m just sticking to orange juice. That’s another reason why I would like to get married after the baby has arrived, I want to be able to at least enjoy one glass of champagne on my wedding day. After our fill of weddings and before I need to carry my mum home, we go to some baby boutiques. We literally buy everything from dummies to prams.
“Are you sure Damien won’t be upset that it’s me here choosing your prams with you?”
“Of course not, and if he doesn’t like the prams, I’m sure he can afford to buy another.”
Yes, I have ordered ‘Prams’ plural. Well, if you can’t have two when your fiancé is a billionaire then what is life all about? When I was little, I had a Silver Cross Balmoral dolls pram in red and white. I absolutely adored it. My mum has kept it in case she has any grandchildren. Anyway, the first shop we went in, there it was in full life size form. Mum and I gasped when we saw it.
“It’s meant to be Bella.” Said mum through her tears. So of course, that was pram number 1. Then I would need a pram that is more versatile, one that can be thrown in the boot and is easy to put up and down, so we got a silver cross travel system as well.
After all the morning’s excitement, we are both feeling “rather peckish”, so we find a nice little café and order some lunch.
We are seated in a window seat watching the world go by and excitedly talking about our purchases, when a man walks past the window and stops in front of us. I recognise him, but I’m not sure where from. He looks at me with so much anger, my heart begins to beat faster and panic sets in. The man enters the café and storms over to our table.
Chapter 14
Bella
“How dare you show your face around here!”
“Don’t you speak to my daughter like that!” but the guy continues as if mum hadn’t said a word.
“You killed my best friend!” I now remember where I know him from. It’s Shane, he was John’s best friend, ‘was’ being to operative word. I haven’t seen him for years. Neither had John. He hasn’t aged well at all. He has long greasy hair swept up in a ponytail and a long unkept beard. He looks grubby and smells of chip fat.
