Chapter 12 #2
‘It’s really something to watch them together, isn’t it?
’ His low voice says in my ear now, and I shift in my chair so I can face him.
I find it so hard to have a conversation with such a din around us.
As I turn, I don’t miss the appreciative way his gaze slides over my face and torso.
I’m in a sleeveless Chanel shift dress, and I have to say I’m rather pleased with how flattering it is.
Verity and I had quite a chat about our new friend Charles last night.
He’s certainly very dashing—tall and fair, and with that wonderful posture that tells one he’s a military man.
He’s even taller than Ben, and a single glance at him tells one exactly where Max got those wonderful blue eyes from.
Verity made some observations about his physicality that are absolutely too lewd to repeat but were highly amusing all the same.
I smile at him. ‘It really is.’
‘Those three can teach us all a thing or two about life and love, can’t they?’ he muses, his blue gaze shifting to where his son is still crouched between Dex and Darcy.
I sigh at the sight of the three of them, all young, all impossibly beautiful and vibrant. ‘It turns out, we know nothing at all. That’s how I feel, anyhow.’
He chuckles. ‘I fear you’re not wrong.’
He has such a warm, lovely laugh. It gives me the confidence to ask something I haven’t asked him yet.
But now, basking in his happiness rather than the oppressive weight of Ben’s judgement, it feels easy.
The stakes feel lower. I can tell, somehow, that I don’t have to weigh my words as much with Charles.
‘Can I ask, did you… see this coming?’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘The three of them? Oh dear God, no. Not a clue! You could have knocked me down with a feather.’
I nod slowly. ‘That is the world’s greatest understatement. But you took it well? It’s none of my business,’ I add hastily.
‘I took it on the chin, I suppose. If you know my son, you’ll know he never asks permission.
He wants something, he goes after it. Or them.
Just as he said. He’s a strong-minded devil, but it all comes down to the fact that he has absolutely lashings of integrity, and therefore I trust him.
When I pushed him on this whole… threesome business and asked if he was sure this was what he wanted for life, do you know what he said? ’
‘What?’ I ask, my eyes wide.
‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!’ He slaps his hand on the table and laughs heartily, and I laugh, too. ‘Well, I told him I’d rather take his word for it. A threesome! Can you imagine?! It would finish me off, I’m sure. Not sure my old ticker could take it.’
I’m giggling hard now. Charles’ reaction of shock and utter acceptance is oddly reassuring.
I suppose that’s what happens when you don’t walk through this world laden down with dogma.
You take new, unknown concepts ‘on the chin’, like he said, and you assess the integrity levels of the person who’s experimenting with such concepts, and you evaluate the situation on its own merits.
How refreshing. I suppose that’s what living authentically means.
He reaches for the bottle of excellent St Emilion next to us and refills my glass, then his. I’ll have a dreadful red wine hangover tomorrow, but I find I don’t care.
‘While we’re asking each other dreadfully personal questions,’ he says, the hesitation audible in his voice, ‘might I ask how you’re feeling about your husband’s absence?’
I laugh, but it’s not grounded in humour, and twist my wedding rings on my finger, looking down at the sparkles my diamonds make in the candlelight. ‘How long do you have?’
‘I have as long as you need me to listen,’ he says in a voice that’s slightly gruff. All I hear is sincerity. Generosity. And when I look in his eyes, I see no judgement, only concern.
I give him broad brush strokes, because I already know he’s aware of the details.
He’s aware that Ben hasn’t ever welcomed Max or Darcy into our home.
I outline the tenets of Ben’s faith as it stands today.
His decision to take the side of praying for our children’s eternal souls over celebrating their unions in this life.
The increasing extent to which he’s isolating himself.
And finally, I admit that it’s probably for the best that he’s not here.
‘I wouldn’t be able to relax for a moment,’ I confess. ‘I’d be viewing everything through his eyes, just waiting for him to blow up and then go horribly, coldly silent.’
He’s quiet for a moment when I’ve finished speaking, and then he pats me lightly on the back.
‘I’m sorry for him. I’m sorry for what he’s missing out on—not just tonight, but in general.
But Lauren, all I see when I look at Dex and Belle are two happy, beautiful human beings, who’ve chosen to stay true to themselves.
’ He pauses, and his gaze is so grave. So intense.
‘And I see their mother, who raised them to be these wonderful people and who has chosen to support and celebrate them in the face of not insignificant emotional obstacles.’
I press my lips together, blinking furiously to hold back the tears. I’m not sure I can take any credit at all for the people Dex and Belle turned out to be. I’m not sure I even deserve to be here.
‘That’s very sweet of you,’ I tell him, ‘but I’m not sure…’
He shakes his head sternly. He looks so like his son. ‘Nonsense. All of our children have found a way to love without fear, and that’s a wonderful, wonderful thing.’
I glance over at Dex, who’s now standing, his arms around both Max and Darcy. His head is bowed, his face soft with love.
Charles is right. There’s no fear there.
‘Thank God they have,’ I say.
Loving without fear.
Now there’s a thought.